“Yes,” the Drae spoke. Except it wasn’t in his voice. It was Ty’s voice. My dungeon buddy’s. Not raspy because acid had been poured down his throat or because he was a Druman spy. Raspy because it came from the partially shifted throat of Lord Irrik. “You were Ty, too?” I choked. Ty. Tyr. Tyrrik. He’d lied to me this entire time.
