Page 61 of Daemon Master

He launched into an abbreviated explanation of his discovery of Crastley’s journal and everything that had happened since. He’d told the tale enough by now it was becoming second nature. When he finished, Elana sat in stunned silence.

“Well,” she said after a beat. “That’s…quite the story.”

“I know it’s a lot to take on faith. But if you let us go, or at least stop force-feeding us that awful tea, we can show you. We could even teach you how to form your own true bonds.”

“It’s not that simple,” she sighed.

“Sure, it is!” He stood, eliciting a wary look from Elana. Raising his hands to signal he wasn’t a threat, he said, “People deserve to hear the truth. This could beexactlywhat’s needed to put an end to daemonic enslavement and usher in a new era of peace.”

She bowed her head. “I so desperately want to believe you,” she said, playing with the fringe of her shawl. “But how can I besure this isn’t an elaborate trick to regain control of your aether? I may not endorse Serenity Corp’s methods, but I also know they wouldn’t pursue fugitives they didn’t believe dangerous.”

“Wearedangerous—dangerous to their way of life.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head.

She moved toward the door, and his stomach dropped.

“No, please, don’t go! There has to be a way we can reach an accord!”

“I…I need time to think. To reflect on what is best. We will speak again soon.”

Ignoring his shouted pleas, she fled the room, leaving him alone in his cell once more.

Adrian awoke to a rustling at his door. He eyed the wooden slab suspiciously. Nothing—no movement, nor sound. Had he imagined it? Leda had already made her last visit for the night to force her foul tea down his throat and judging by the lack of light around the frame, it should be hours before she arrived with breakfast.

Must have been some half-forgotten dream.He certainly had plenty to keep him up at night. He rolled over to go back to sleep.

That’s when he heard it—the lightclickof the lock disengaging. Bolting upright, he stared at the door. It creaked open wide enough for a figure to slip inside, quietly shutting it behind them. His eyes widened when they stepped forward.

“Seymour! Spirits above, what are you doing here?”

Dirt coated the watcher from head to toe, his clothes torn and ragged. A cut on his lip oozed blood, along with another gash on his arm.

“Keep your voice down!” Seymour hissed. “I didn’t see any guards outside, but surely even a bunch of daemon-loving pacifists know to post a sentry.”

Despite the watcher’s gruff demeanor, Adrian couldn’t hide his grin. “You saved my life.”

Seymour grimaced. “Don’t remind me.” His expression softened as he swept his emerald gaze over Adrian, his eyes lingering on Adrian’s face a touch longer than usual. “Still, it is good to see you up and about. I assume you can’t access your aether either?”

Adrian shook his head. “The tea—”

“Yes, yes, that spirit-cursed tea. I’d hoped you learned some trick from Old Man Crastley to get around it. Pity. We’ll just have to pray no one raises an alarm until we’re gone.” Seymour positioned himself by the door, reaching for the handle. “Ready?”

Adrian blinked, feeling two steps behind. “What are you talking about?”

Seymour sighed and spoke slowly, as if explaining something to a small child. “We’re breaking out of here. I made a racket until that spirit-cursed woman came to shut me up. We fought”—he held up his bloody arm—“and I won. Now, unless you fancy waiting around for someone to notice she’s missing and come check on us, I suggest we get moving.”

Nodding, Adrian stumbled to his feet. This was their best chance to rescue Heartrender and escape any of Kali’s unseen accomplices who might still be hunting them. He reached the doorway and paused, his earlier conversation with Elana flickering through his head.

Seymour shot him an impatient look. “What are you waiting for? We need to get out of here before someone raises an alarm.”

“Maybe…” He bit his lip. “Maybe we should consider staying.”

Seymour’s body went rigid.“Have you lost your spirit-cursed mind?”

Adrian winced, a part of him wondering the same thing. “I know our reception has been…less than friendly.”

Seymour snorted, crossing his arms over his tattered shirt. Blood and dirt congealed there into a muddy brown.