I woke on cold, unfamiliar ground. My sight was blurred, and I was too sore to move without pain from some pat of my body, so I closed my eyes again and laid back down.What was I doing to make me this sore...? Oh, that's right. I sprinted the entire length of a forest, sat on a small, cramped plane for a few hours, then continued running all the way to Zafria's house...
And then I beat her senseless. Well. That was certainly an interesting day. At least I hadn't killed her. The corner of my lip twisted into an empty half-smile. No matter how much I had hurt her, the Grand Mage was still alive. For the first time ever, I thanked God for my lack of endurance.
I decided I really should get up and at least find out where I was. I pushed myself up and forced my eyes open, and after blinking a few times, the bluriness went away. I was at the American Sanctuary in New York, locked in a cell. How ironic that the assasin was now trapped in the very place she held her occasional survivors- the ones she was supposed to bring in alive. There weren't many.
But why hadn't the Grand Mage killed me? I've caused her enough trouble sending her back to Ireland. And she knows I killed my family, too. That's homocide. Oh well- whatever reasons there were to keep me alive probably made sense in her head, and I had no say in the matter. Why bother to even waste my time thinking about it? So I let myself lay back down and fall asleep, hoping that the warden might forget to feed me, so I could die of thirst.