Handy pulled himself up on a nearby marble bench and caught his breath. Wherever he was, he was away from that dragon, and that would have to do for now. He held his head in one hand. ‘What now?’ he thought. His one chance of escape, the Oaken Stairs, were gone. This wasn’t his city. He had no idea how to get out, and he had relied on the Queen’s words. He ground his teeth. ‘She knew,’ he thought viciously. ‘She knew and still she sent me to find those damned stairs instead of telling me of another way out.’ He shook with the thought but then chastised himself. Could he blame her? Seeing the way she looked at him, how she flinched when he spoke, the fear he instilled in her that he then exploited, how could anyone blame her for what she did?