Shortly after the rumbling began, Caspian began to hear the sounds of voices shouting beyond his cell. He turned his head toward the open slats between the bars, increasingly bemused by the eruption of noise beyond his line of sight. As far as he could tell, it didn’t seem like the rebels had expected it either, which led him to guess that the source must have been something to do with the Aspirian military. His heart fluttered at the thought. On one hand, he was excited by the prospect that he would be found and rescued from the grisly fate that awaited him as a prisoner of the Scourge. However, he was equally as worried that something would go wrong in the supposed ambush.

If the soldiers weren’t expecting him to be there, they would think to look closely at his face before they fired their weapons. He could still be shot accidentally by a gunman with an itchy trigger finger, landing him in the same situation he would have been in with Ethan. And even if they did recognize him and help him escape from the rebels, he might be separated from Iris. He hadn’t seen her since he had been dragged off for his interrogation, and he didn’t know where to look to find her again. He doubted the soldiers would be patient enough to let him wander the prison in an aimless search for her during the middle of a raid. It was more likely that they would force him to go with them and leave her behind. It was just as likely that they would mistake her for a member of the rebellion and kill her too.

With a shudder, he shifted his good arm and rolled his ankles, testing his range of mobility. Even small motions pained him, and he bit his lip to stifle a whimper. Frustration coursed through him with the realization that he could barely move and was in no condition to look for Iris, even if the soldiers allowed him to do so. He was going to have no choice but to go with them, and that was only if they didn’t kill him on sight. Knowing that he couldn’t do anything to save himself or her made him feel helpless.

Wallowing in his dispiritedness, he didn’t notice that someone had approached his cell until he heard the grating of metal on metal, signaling the opening of the door. The sound surprised him, since he’d thought the rebels would have forgotten about him in the midst of an attack. [color=#b97703][i]Maybe they want to move me to another location, so they won’t lose the ‘information’ they think they can get out of me,[/i][/color] he theorized as he turned his head back toward the entrance of the concrete room. However, as soon as he laid eyes on the person who’d stepped inside, he raised his brows in shock.

[color=#b97703]“Iris?”[/color] he rasped, baffled by her sudden appearance. Dozens of questions began to flit through his mind as she rushed toward him. Where had she gone when the guard had taken her away from him? How was she walking around the prison without anyone keeping an eye on her? Why was she wearing a dress? The onslaught of confusion tied his tongue, and he couldn’t ask any of the inquiries except for the most prominent of all: [color=#b97703]“How did you get the key to my cell?”[/color]

As she helped him get up from the bed, an agonized expression contorted his face. Everything hurt, and his vision swam as stabbing pain flooded his body. [color=#b97703]“Slow,”[/color] he gasped, unable to string together a more coherent request. The urgency of the situation hadn’t slipped by him, but he wasn’t in any condition to hurry. If he was going to get out of the prison with her and dodge the military, he was going to have to do so at a limited speed.

Carefully, he managed to get his feet underneath him, leaning heavily on his right leg since the left couldn’t support his weight. He was precariously unbalanced, but it was going to have to do for now. [color=#b97703]“Where are we going?”[/color] he asked, glancing at Iris as he held onto her with his left arm. The stab wound in his bicep burned, but ironically, it was one of the least of his concerns compared to his broken bones and bullet wound.