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bounded out.
    Mzatal drew a deep breath and released it slowly. “Kara Gillian,” he said in a potent melodic tone that drove straight through to my core. “You are a dangerous unknown. I prefer you to become a dangerous known with possibilities other than death.” He paused and regarded me with keen intensity. “But if deep assessment reveals full essence-binding by Rhyzkahl, then I will have no option but to slay you.”
    I dragged my hand across my forehead. “Whew! And I thought today wasn’t going to be shittier than yesterday!”
    “It is in truth a most fortunate day for you,” he said as he raked a gaze over me. “Wait here,” he ordered, then turned and exited, closing the doors with a flick of his fingers.
    Silence descended, broken only by my unsteady breathing.
Dispersal, essence sheer, madness
. Right now the available options were all pretty fucking heinous. Even if I survived the removal fairly whole, I’d be nothing more than a slave. He’d stated quite clearly his desire to use me.
    My fear settled into a weird acceptance. There was one other possible out. Mzatal had told me there was less chance of making it through the void a second time. Less chance. Not “no chance.” And why would he need to disperse my essence after slaying me if there truly was no chance?
In other words, the available options are “shitty” and “shittier.”
    I heard two demons conversing outside the door, and cold slammed through me again. Gestamar back from having Idris prepare some new, horrific ritual? No way was I just going to stand here twiddling my thumbs.
    Oddly calm, my gaze swept the room, even though I knew damn well there was no convenient knife or noose. Only the damn statue, and broad thick windows covered in wards. I moved to the window near the statue and put my hand toward it. A tingle of pain shot through it, along with a surge of queasiness.
But I’ve gone through wards before
, I reminded myself grimly.
I’m wearing the collar. It’ll suck, but dying for good or having my essence ripped apart will suck worse.
What choice did I have?
    None.
    I couldn’t let myself think about it anymore. If I did I might lose my nerve and would probably never have another chance to take the plunge. Literally. My heart beat triple time, as if counting off my remaining seconds.
    I set my shoulder against Elinor’s hip, dug my bare feet into the floor and pushed. She was a heavy bitch, but no match for my desperation. With a creak of stone, the statue slowly tipped, then toppled into the broad window with a satisfying
crash
, creating a sufficiently large hole.
    Her head and shoulders protruded from the window into the open air. I clambered onto the statue, hissing as the first wards stung like a thousand bees. I pushed against them, feeling as if I was slogging through goo. A headache spiked as I forced my way forward. Only about a foot more and I could fall. Holy shit, it would suck, but staying here would suck worse. I dimly heard a bellow and the crash of the door being thrown open. Pain and nausea spiraled higher, and I gasped raggedly. I was on her shoulders now. Another inch and—
    A different pain speared through my head as a clawed hand tangled in my hair. I let out a cry of pain and scrabbled to grab at the statue’s head. So damn close! Gestamar bellowed, pulling at me with a hard grip in my hair and on my thigh. Desperate, I tried to slash my forearm across a shard of glass. Oddly it didn’t break the skin any more than a piece of wood might, but the movement caused me to lose my grip on Elinor’s head. Pain from the wards searedthrough me again as the growling demon dragged me bodily back into the room and away from the window.
    My knees buckled as the throbbing headache tripled in intensity, but Gestamar shifted his grip to my upper arms and kept me from completely collapsing. Maybe my head would explode and take care of the whole thing. That’d be convenient. Nausea rose, and I tasted bile.