stretched out beside me on the ground, his hand still on my shoulder, connecting me to him — to something other than my absurd fear. “I’ve seen others with this same problem. It helps to turn inward.” His voice was low, soothing. “Visualize somewhere calming and just breathe.”
I did as he suggested, picturing myself standing in the courtyard of the palace, Damian by my side, the open sky above us. I inhaled slowly and exhaled. Inhale. Exhale. In. Out. Eljin pulled his hand away, and my eyes flew open at the loss of his touch; I immediately tensed and completely lost the image of Damian.
“Just breathe,” he reminded me, but I couldn’t. My lungs rose and fell sharply as the panic surged back in. “Here, does this help?” he asked, reaching for my hand and holding it in his. I curled my fingers around his, clutching him tightly.
“Yes,” I whispered, ashamed at my irrational weakness.
We were silent for a long moment as I struggled to calm my breathing again. I rolled onto my back, so that we lay side by side in the darkness.
“It’s all right to be afraid,” he said quietly. “It doesn’t mean you’re weak.”
I shook my head, angry at myself for getting us into this position — for being afraid of this dark, small place deep beneath the earth. Neither of us voiced the bigger fears: Where were they taking us? And what would happen when we got there?
“Did I ever tell you about the time my father taught me how to ride a horse?”
“No.”
“As a child, I was actually quite terrified of them.”
“Of horses?” I asked in surprise. He’d seemed so confident and comfortable when the innkeeper’s son had brought Mira and Gusto for us. A pang of guilt and worry sprang up at the thought of our horses — I wondered what had happened to them.
“Yes.” He chuckled softly. “I always had an excuse or pretended to be sick when he’d tell me it was time to learn to ride. Finally, one day when I was eight, he grabbed me by the arm and practically dragged me to the stable. He already had a horse saddled and waiting for me, a small black gelding.”
As he spoke about getting bucked off and his father forcing him to climb back on and try again, his words slid past the knot of tension that coiled through my chest, gradually loosening it, until I was able to breathe slowly once more. My fingers relaxed in his as he told me about the rolling hills near his home and how he eventually worked through his fear and actually grew to love riding. As he described the freedom he’d felt as he’d galloped through the wild lands of Blevon, I pictured myself on Mira’s back again, the wind in my hair as she flew across the ground. Nothing but the sky above us. I hadn’t even realized my fear had slipped away entirely until my exhaustion overtook me, and I slowly drifted to sleep to the cadence of Eljin’s stories.
When the door opened, jerking us both awake, I jumped to my feet, even though my body begged for more rest. How long had it been since I’d had a full night’s rest? I couldn’t even remember any longer.
“Come,” the sorcerer said, but his voice sounded different. It was hard to tell with the dark robes and the hoods pulled up over their heads, but I was fairly certain he was not the same sorcerer who had brought us to this room.
I walked out into the dank tunnel first and was surprised to see five men standing there instead of three, two of them holding lit torches.
“You will do exactly as we tell you, and your friend will live.”
I nodded as Eljin followed me out into the tunnel, his eyes widening slightly at the number of men waiting for us.
“Walk,” the Dansiian sorcerer said, pointing down the tunnel.
“Of course,” I muttered, realizing that my hope of being led up the stairs and into the light had been in vain. I glanced ruefully at the stone steps that would take us away from the darkness as we filed past them.
One of the men with the torches marched in front of me this time, which was a slight improvement, as I could at least see a little bit farther ahead of us, instead of being forced to step continuously in the blackness.
We walked in silence for hours, only stopping once at another small room