Elaine was on fire. Standing on a bed of hot coals, flames curling around her feet, skin blistering. Her hands were bound behind her back with coarse rope that was now igniting as well. Beyond the light of the inferno, nightmarish faces loomed in the shadows, a mob, chanting. . . .

Elaine’s eyes flew open. She was lying on the cold concrete floor, drenched in sweat. The metal bars swam before her eyes. A draft was blowing through the dungeon, but she could still feel the heat of the blaze from her dream.

Suddenly, she saw a flickering light in the passageway outside, casting an elongated shadow onto the rough stone walls. Elaine swallowed. Her throat was dry as a desert. They couldn’t be collecting her now.

The figure turned a corner, and Elaine saw who it was: a familiar girl holding a short candle stub.

“Princess Sidra!” Elaine cried, voice hoarse. She leapt to her feet and executed a clumsy curtsy, the best she could do while shackled to the floor.

“Shhh,” Sidra hissed, stopping in front of the cell.

“Do you know what they will do to me?” Elaine asked. Her voice sounded desperate.

“They will accuse you of witchcraft,” Sidra replied. “The punishment is burning.”

Elaine’s heart thumped wildly.

Sidra continued. “Take this.” She passed a bundle through the bars of the cell.

Elaine unwrapped it, staring at the contents in amazement. “You don’t know me. Why are you doing this?”

“I always hoped we could be friends,” Sidra admitted. “And I will not stand by and watch an innocent person die.”

Elaine smiled. “Thank you. I will never forget this.”

Sidra nodded, then disappeared back the way she’d come from. Elaine watched her go, wondering if she’d ever see her again.

Elaine threw the thick, black cloak from the bundle over her richly embroidered tunic, which was a last reminder of her life as daughter of nobility. She glanced at the key in her hand, which Sidra had slipped her. Elaine unlocked the cell door and, like a bird taking flight from its cage, disappeared into the night.