The night was long and Anya's sleep was uneasy.  She was sore and uncomfortable and tired of sleeping on the ground.  Worse, the only thing that lessened her pain at the loss of Sabin was her fear of Thorne.  It was almost a relief when they began to ride again.

It was not long before riding had become frustrating.  Anya could not help but notice the wary looks that the soldiers kept shooting her.  At first it was almost funny.  Here she sat, a bound female with no ability to use her magic, and these great strong knights clad in armor and carrying deadly weapons were afraid of her.  After a while, however it began to grate on her nerves.  What did they imagine she could do?  Turn them to stone with her gaze?  If only, for Thorne would be a statue.

It was not until they stopped for the lunch break that Anya's fears materialized as reality.  She was deposited in from of Thorne's stretcher.  She eyed him closely.  He was still bound from head to toe with ropes.  There was no way that an ordinary man could manage to escape.  Of course, Thorne was not ordinary.  He was a crafty, wicked wizard and he was resourceful.  And he yet had access to his magic.

Anya tried to reassure herself.  Sir Thomas had only been attempting to stabilize him for the journey.  He would not be waking up yet.  He was bound firmly, in fact better than she.  She wanted him to pay for his crimes.

Thorne would not escape, she told herself.  Then she noticed something odd.  The ropes, which had originally seemed so thick and sturdy, seemed to be thinning, and wiggling, until they slipped right off of his body as if they were a mere liquid.

"Anya.  Good of you not to kill me," he said with a wicked smile.

"Thorne!" she gasped. 

"I must bid you farewell for now, Anya," Thorne said with a grin.  "But I have much to do and no time for this nonsense.  Give the king my regards."

"Thorne's awake!  Thorne, everyone knows what you have done."

Thorne chuckled.  "That hardly matters.  I'll just work from the shadows as I do."  Thorne leapt up from the stretcher, as quickly as he had moved earlier.

"He's escaping!"  Anya shouted.  Everything would be for naught.

Then Thorne slammed face down on the ground.  Anya realized that he had been pushed down by a wave of magic, although she could feel no sense of it.  She breathed a sigh of relief and looked up to see Lord Wildwood standing there.

"Sorry to disappoint you David, but we've got other plans for you."

Thorne was clearly fighting the magic and losing.  It was a gratifying sight for Anya.  "I'll never cooperate."

"The words of an innocent man?  Your record speaks against you."

"Shut it, Wildwood.  You cannot stop what is to come.  There's no way that someone like you could defeat me.  Your pitiable honor and loyalty weaken you and forces you to waste your efforts," Thorne said in an eerie tone, still held fast to the ground.

"Just like your pitiful dog.  I destroyed that peasant easily enough.  It was only this one," Thorne twisted his head to look contemptuously at Anya, "Who was too foolish to take her freedom when I handed it to her.  Her stupid sentimentality limits her powers, as does yours," Thorne finished, his voice full of contempt.

Anya opened her mouth in outrage.  How dare he talk about Jim that way?  But Wildwood spoke first.  "I doubt that beating Jim was easy.  His magic is far greater than yours.  But that's why you picked on him so, wasn't it?  Jealousy?  I suppose the fact that a mere commoner exceeded you was difficult to swallow."

"He's awake?" the leader of the group had apparently decided to join them.  Anya glared at him.  If it had been left up to this man, Thorne would have been gone.  How good that Lord Wildwood had been there.

"I can't hold him like this all day," Lord Wildwood pointed out mildly.

The leader stepped closer to Thorne.  "How did he get out?"

"He dissolved the ropes using magic," Lord Wildwood said in a neutral tone.

The captain glanced over at the nearby soldier who had been watching the prisoners.  "Knock him out and ensure that he remains that way for the remainder of the journey.

Anya watched as Thorne was struck on the head and went limp.  Anya smiled slightly and she turned away.  Hopefully it would hold.

The rest of the journey was uneventful and they reached the capital with no further disturbances.  Anya was moved to the king's prison and there she remained.

* * * * *

Anya opened her tired eyes.  It had been a long and restless night.  She did not have to look around to know what she would see.  It was the same sight that had remained unchanged for the last seven months.

Seven months of the same little cell, the same bars, the same uncomfortable cot.  Seven incredibly long months of waiting while the king's men investigated and the king pondered.

Anya could have dealt with the wretched food and the almost unending isolation and even the horrible desensitizing loss of her magic.  It was the forced inactivity that was truly wearing on her spirit in the long run.  She told herself to be grateful to be alive, but every second she was awake dragged into an eternity and Anya would have given almost anything just to take a walk in a forest and hear the wind rushing through the trees.  She wished above all to see Sabin alive and well, or to see the twins.

Pushing aside her pain, Anya knew that she was fortunate in many ways.  She had been allowed small privileges such as writing letters to the twins.  It was good to know that they were safe by their own hands.

She was also surprisingly safe.

For Anya at least, the prison was not as horrific a place as the rumors had suggested, perhaps because of her solitude.  She was kept away from the other prisoners in a cell high at the top of the prison.

She did not know if it was because she was a woman or if it was because she was deemed too much of a risk to be with other prisoners because she was such a dangerous witch.

Anya's happiness or lack thereof did not really matter in the end.  Even in her most miserable moments, Anya knew that she had done the right thing.  Thorne would lose his head and Anya could accept her own fate once he was safely dead.

Anya smiled a bit.  Thorne was set to die that very day.  Anya wished that she could be there to see it, to witness the moment herself.

Anya closed her eyes again.  There was no point in getting up yet.  She had nothing to do even if she did but worry and wait.  She lay there until she fell asleep again.

* * * * *

"Anya."

It could not be.

Her eyes refused to believe who stood before her, because it could not be.  Thorne.

"You were supposed to die!" she gasped, her heart beating frantically.

"Afraid no one told me that.  I still have plans to complete."

"No."

"I just thought I'd stop by to let you know we are even.  I shall not bother you again," he said with an evil smile.

Anya stared at him.  "What?"

His smile widened.  "I killed the twins.  I have no further business with you."

"What!?" Anya half shouted.  "No!"  But something was not quite right.  "You haven't had time to get there."

"I have my ways."

* * * * *

Anya opened her eyes, her heart still pounding.  The same terrible thoughts kept surfacing in her dreams since she had told the entire truth of what had happened.  She just wanted it to be over.

An old guard came shuffling up the stairs.  He was frail and had graying hair and he balanced food in his shaking hand.  Anya watched as he came closer.  His name was Walter, and Anya liked him.  He was kind.

"Anya.  Got yer food here," he announced as he almost tipped the tray as he set it on the floor.  Walter pushed the tray under the bars with the side of his foot.

"Thank you," Anya said.  "Have you heard any news on Thorne?"

"Thorne?"

Anya shook her head.  "I mean the Earl of Farhaven."  She still thought of him as she always had, by his lesser title.

Walter looked confused for a moment, then nodded.  "His sentence will be carried out at noontime, so they say.  I'm going to watch."

"Can you come back and tell me about it?" Anya asked. She needed to know that he was well and truly gone.

"Still scared of him, are ye?  It's a shame, keeping a young lady like yerself up here for what that scoundrel did.  Ye remind me of my granddaughter."

Anya just smiled a bit.  "I played my own part in his schemes," she said with a sigh.

Walter scratched his head.  "I'll come back and tell ye surely."

Anya smiled.  "Thank you, Walter."

"Yer welcome," he said and continued shuffling on.  He delivered the meals every day, like the rising of the sun.  Anya could tell that he was coming to the end of his time, and she would miss him when he was gone.  She was not mistreated, but she felt terribly alone.