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Drip. Caliel raised his head at the sound. The cold dank cell stared back with stony silence. Above him he could hear the wind howl and the promise of a coming storm. A tempest had upheaved their world when the people had risen against their kings. It had been made anew. In his missions to see it through, he'd been captured, brought back to the very island from which he'd escaped a year earlier with Tomas. Drip. His eyes narrowed at the origin of the echo. Emelia was waiting for him, so he didn't have long. Especially since their bid for change had left a single holdout. A powerful enemy. All of it would come down to a single person. The question was, who would win out? Drip. He lay down, shivering under the rags they called clothes. Once he was free, they would be facing their most cunning adversary yet-a man known for his strategies, the newly crowned Rickard Lace. Caliel knew from his own experiences how clever Emelia could be, but would it be enough? He closed his eyes. Only time would tell.

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