114

“Everyone stay calm,” you murmur softly, hoping Ashur doesn’t kill you on the spot for saying it.

Mae nods at you. “I’m sure we can find a mutually beneficial resolution,” she says as though she’s talking about building a new bridge along the Imperial Highway, not Tarquin’s life.

The magister narrows his eyes at her. “We want asylum,” he says.

“Asylum?”

“Protection,” he says. “Freedom from consequences. From the Magisterium, the Venatori, the Shadow Dragons—any and all harm.”

A tiny frown creases Ashur’s forehead. Protect a group of mages so evil they left the Venatori for being too lenient?

“In return,” the magister says, “you’ll get Tarquin back—and I’ll tell you where your mage is.”

“No,” Tarquin says. “Not worth it, Viper. Don’t.”

The magister tightens his grip on Tarquin and the magic along his fingers goes from white to an angry, painful-looking red. “No protection, no deal,” he says.

You and Mae both look at Ashur; Ashur looks at the magister. There’s a long silence.

Finally, he says, “You’ll get your asylum.”

• Turn to page 115.