Page 46 of Awakening Storm

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The dungeon was silentexcept for the sound of their heavy breathing as they sat, leaning on each other.Thank God he’s okay.She reached across and placed her hand on top of his. “I’m not sure what happened, but thank you.”

Aidan twisted, groaning, and kissed her temple. “Theodora struck you with her dark magic and killed you. I revived you.”

She chuckled. “Leave it to you to give me the condensed version.”

He shrugged, his face scrunching in pain.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Are you hurt?” She angled away from him to get a better look.

“Broke my shoulder,” he said through clenched teeth. He came to his knees and stood, helping her to her feet with his good arm. “Now that you’re okay, I’m going to go after her. We have to get that scepter and get out of here.”

“I can help.”

“I’ll have to go through the door again. I’ll come back for you once I have the key.” Wrapping his uninjured arm around her, he kissed her with longing. When they parted, his lips tugged into a lopsided smile. “Just in case Theodora does permanent damage this time.”

She pulled him closer and kissed him again. “You figure a way out of this, and then we’ll to talk.”

“Deal,” he said, stepping back.

Rhianna sunk her teeth into her lip as he morphed into an eagle, made himself impossibly small, and squeezed through the bars of the door. On the other side, he changed back.

“Your arm,” she said. “How will you fight her injured like that?”

“I heal rapidly. It will be fine.” He gave her one last look of yearning, and then his hurried steps were echoing down the corridor. Eventually the footfalls disappeared altogether, leaving her in silence.

Rhianna stood in the middle of the empty cell. She hugged her arms around her middle and began to pace. At least it was better to listen to her footsteps than the silence. She paused at the door and glanced down the corridor. What had Aidan encountered when he’d left?

She jerked and pushed on the door, hoping it would miraculously open. It didn’t. If only she could unlock it somehow. Her eyes swept the floor of the cell, looking for anything she could use to try to pick the lock. She pursed her lips, then gasped. She’d had a bobby pin earlier!

Maybe . . .

She patted her hair, and her fingers struck the thin slip of metal.Yes!She pulled the clip free of her hair.

Fiddling with the pin, she tied to recall the video about picking locks she’d watched years ago after locking herself out of her apartment.

First, bend the bobby pin back and forth until it breaks in half. Then, bend one of the halves at the tip.

Taking a deep breath, she reached her arms through the metal grates. The cold bars nudged her chest. Since the lock was on the other side of the door, she’d be working blind, just by feel.

She put the bent end in place first and then added the other half in the lock above it. She jiggled the pin. After several attempts, she had to stop and rest. Her arms were cramping from having to hold them up at an awkward angle. But it didn’t matter how long it took or how tired she got, she had to keep trying.

On the fourth attempt, the lock gave, and the door inched open. She could have squealed with joy. She’d done it!

But she had to be discreet. So she exited the dungeon cell as quietly as she could.

* * *

Once Aidan left Rhianna, he moved cautiously through the castle, taking his time to allow his shoulder at least some time to mend before confronting Theodora. He traveled along the main floor, peeking in doorways to vaarious rooms—kitchen, dining room, living room, library. The castle was cavernous and empty.

He moved up the curved staircase to the second floor. There was a surprising lack of artwork for a place this size, leaving the walls bare. His footfalls were muffled by the thick rugs as he walked along the hallway, again tipping his head through every doorway. Each time, he held his breath, knowing Theodora could be within. At the end of a hall, he came to a room with tall double doors.A distinguishing sign,he thought.

He hesitated, rotating his shoulder. It was still painful, but it was usable. Controlled and careful, he turned the doorknob and looked in. The lighting was dim, even yellowed inside. Pushing the door wider, he inched through the threshold.

She was there in her bedroom, standing in her undergarments. Thick slashes covered her shoulders, ribs, and back, scars that spoke of being on the losing side of a sword fight.

He skimmed the room. No mirrors. Perhaps she didn’t want reminders.