Prologue

The clattering of hooves was muted and soft, a rhythmic pounding that slowly pulled Ellie from the hazy world that she was drifting in. Coherency was still touch and go for now but her senses were sharp enough to know that she wasn't in that prison anymore.

"Almost there, Miller."

Hardy. He was still tense despite their escape and from the sounds of it they had thrown off their pursuers. If there had been any. Ellie shuddered recalling the ease with which her guards had been dealt with, and she still didn't know whether or not they had been killed or merely knocked unconscious, and she'd had no way of checking. Being blind, handcuffed, and effectively gagged put a bit of a wrench in being able to do anything easily or by herself, which was proven by the fact that she was currently wenched between the saddle horn and his body to keep from falling off.

She wanted to tease him for the forced human contact, which she knew he detested. She also wanted to scoff at the means of their escape—horses, really? Who the hell used horses nowadays to do anything? And since when had they entered a freaking medieval tale?

What she really wanted to know was how the hell he knew how to ride. Hadn't he grown up in the city?

She grumbled in response to his words, hating her inability to speak, and her fingers sought whatever they could to help ground her more. The fresh air was helping clear her head. The horse's mane was wiry and coarse beneath her hold as she twined it in her grip, and her palm brushed up against the reins; Hardy was making sure she was securely seated having wrapped his arm around her waist, and was holding the reins in his other hand.

She wanted to ask where they were actually going—there hadn't been any time to be given any explanation whatsoever—but she supposed it really didn't matter. As long as they were away from the prison she was happy.

The fingers not currently entwined with mane started frantically tapping against the sleeve of his shirt, spelling out a single word. A name.

The breath hitched in Hardy's chest as the pieces fell into place. Her capture, her unfair imprisonment, the treatment she'd received at the hands of her captors… "Tom and Fred are safe," he said, biting back anger with difficulty. She could tell by how rough his accent had suddenly grown; when he was well and truly pissed off about something it was almost impossible to understand him. "Joe won't get his hands on them."

She wanted to sag with relief at the reassurance but her spine was stiff with anxiety, and her skin still ached with the spell work that was supposed to be stifling her supposed powers.

Hardy knew her well enough by now to know this. His expression, if she'd managed to see it, would have unnerved her as much as her initial rescue had. He'd seen enough of the prison—and the prisoners therein—to recognize the inhumanity concealed within its walls. To realize that they'd treated this innocent woman as badly as they did everyone else accused of magical ability—without proof, no less—made him seethe. Ellie was out of it enough still to not realize she was trembling like a leaf.

They'd have to remove her restraints sooner rather later. Bruises were already forming around the harsh clamps around her wrists, and the spell work currently wrapped around her like a blanket was making him ache with the pain.

Far, far behind them an explosion threw sheets of smoke and flame into the air; Ellie jumped in his hold and shook her head as she automatically tried to look at the source of the noise. The horse shied and tried to sidestep but Hardy kept its head and urged it onwards. They were very nearly at the border and then they'd be safe momentarily.

"Prison command center exploded," he said quietly in her ear. There shouldn't have been anyone in that section of the building—he'd made sure that they were all held in the cells or otherwise dealt with—but if it turned out he was mistaken he didn't much care.

The footage of the prison conditions was safe on the device currently in his pocket. He wasn't afraid to blackmail the government itself for the way it treated his kind.