Chapter Two

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Two guards follow me inside the prison hallway and pull the door shut behind them, thrusting us all into the dark. I press a hand to the damp, rough stone, and wait until my eyes adjust.

Torches flicker from bronze holders fitted into the stone, but they provide barely enough light to see the commotion before me.

"What a crowd we have collected here," a voice says, speaking my thoughts.

My eyes snap to the sound. Only one person here has a voice like oil.

The warden.

All seven Ill-Fated from the training ring stand huddled together, their backs to me. Alani is before them, facing the warden. He has a thin-lipped sneer curling beneath a hooked nose. His face is stretched and yellow in the flickering torch light, making him look as if he's just come back from the dead.

I swallow. No one speaks. Not even the water trickling its way down the stony walls dares to make a sound. We wait, holding our breath, Binks's tail anxiously flicking back and forth.

"Alani, my dear, I was surprised to hear you were down by the arena." The warden tucks his hands into the billowing sleeves of his black cloak. I've never seen him wear anything else. I don't even know what he looks like beneath the shadow folds of fabric.

The silver circlet atop Alani's head glints as she raises her chin. "I heard shouting, and I came to investigate."

"You heard...shouting," the warden repeats, skepticism oozing from his tongue. "The walls are thick, my dear. I didn't realize you had such good hearing."

"I was walking by," Alani says, but there's a nervous edge to her voice, and I think we all know the warden doesn't believe it.

A sick feeling pools in the pit of my stomach as I watch Alani press the lace of her collar against her neck, as if she could use it for armor.

The warden bares his teeth. He reaches up to pull Alani's hand from her throat. It looks gentle and loving, but I can see from the warden's white knuckles how hard he's holding Alani's fine bones. "We'll discuss this later, though I think you may know how you've violated my rules," he says, and I shudder.

Alani bows deeply. "Yes, your grace," she says, putting the words back on him.

Shadows play across the warden's face as the nearest torch begins to sputter. There's a scrape behind me as one of the guards shifts his leather boots and his poleaxe drags against the flagstone.

"And why are we in the hallway and not in the training ring?" Warden asks.

"The guards did not stop the prisoners from fighting amongst themselves. I stopped them, and punished them by taking away their training rights," Alani says.

Warden's dark eyes flick to her face. He takes it in greedily, like how the merchants in the Laplands look at rare jewels. "And what started the fight?"

Alani hesitates. Before she can speak, Binks steps forward.

"Me, my lord. I spat in a guard's face." Binks sinks to a knee and bows her head.

The warden gives her a look of revulsion. He steps back, as if he doesn't want any part of Binks to touch his slipper-clad toe, and snaps his fingers.

Three new guards loom out of the dark, coming to stand behind the warden.

Binks makes a small sound in her throat. My hand reaches out to her, but I stop when I notice the warden now staring at me.

"Why did you spit on my guard?" the warden asks, his eyes still fixed on mine.

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