Cold stone…hard floors…the distant smell of rot and damp… Bellina had lost track of how many days she’d been here. It was getting harder and harder to keep her wits about her. Five days? Six? More? The guards seemed to move in rosters but they must have kept them irregular to stop her knowing whether it was day or night. Every time they struck her, she kept hold of her faith, and her anger. She knew she’d done nothing wrong. Neither had her aunt. Neither had anyone in the village, which according to the Inquisitors was being torn apart in search of more witches. More witches! Like they’d even found one…she hated feeling so powerless, so trapped…but with her hands chained behind her (and at least one of them broken beyond repair, at this point) there wasn’t anything she could do.

Hope of rescue was gone. If anyone was coming for her, they’d have come by now. She’d also given up trying to give the Inquisition an answer they liked — the truth only brought more torture, and though she’d tried a few lies, they’d seen right through them. All she could do was live — keep living, keep thinking. Remember who she was, who her family was. Think back to her dear friend, Maeve — that brought a pang of sadness to her aching body. They’d promised to always be there for each other…but how could Maeve be here for her now? Here in this cell on the other side of the world…she wouldn’t even know that anything had gone wrong for weeks yet, if she ever did… A tear rolled down Bellina’s cheek as she realized, perhaps for the first time, how truly alone she was…

Cora jerked awake, and felt her face, wet with tears. She flexed both her hands and found with some relief that both were intact — that was her least favorite part of the dreams, the way the injuries seemed to follow her into the real world, lingering in her muscle memory. Nothing broken, nothing bleeding. For now, whispered an unpleasant little voice in the back of her mind that Cora resolved to ignore.

It must have been morning — she could hear the distant sounds of movement in the kitchens as breakfast preparations were made. The troubling loneliness of the dream was still with her, and she sat up wearily. Outside the door, the guard was staring at her, impassively. Not alone, then. A much more welcome sight was Ian, spread out asleep in front of her cell, using a jacket as a pillow. She gazed fondly down at him for a few minutes before gently nudging at him with the tip of her toe to wake him up. He sprang to his feet in a rush, staring around bleary-eyed, before he realized what was going on and smiled at her sleepily.

“Good morning, my love.”

“Did you sleep well?”

“I feel like my back has been replaced with a bundle of sticks, but otherwise, fine,” he replied, stretching and grimacing.

She laughed despite herself. The insights into Bellina’s last few days alive only made her more grateful for her own blessings. It was with determination and purpose that she allowed herself to be escorted upstairs by the guard to where the Inquisitors were waiting.

And, to her delight, Colin and Audrina were both there, too. Her friend rushed forward to embrace her, despite the guard’s surly expression — she checked her over as though looking for signs of injury, then returned to Colin’s side.

“The interrogation will continue,” the first Inquisitor said flatly.

“To what end?” Colin’s voice rang out across the room.

“To ascertain guilt.”

“You questioned her for an hour yesterday,” Audrina said, her voice as composed and lordly as Colin’s had been. “Have you anything new to discuss with her?”

“We must —”

“Have you anything new to discuss with her?”

“No,” admitted the second Inquisitor, a little surly.

Cora was looking back and forth between them as though she was at a tennis match, astonished to see the Inquisitors actually looking a little sheepish. Had Colin and Audrina planned this last night? A line of argument that would actually sway the Inquisitors from interrogating her any further? She almost wept in gratitude for the support of her friends. To think she’d considered leaving this castle, this place that felt like home — thought of returning to San Francisco, that huge, ugly city, when she had such fine, wonderful people all around her…a single tear ran down her face and she dashed it away. Had to hold composure.

“Then I fail to see what the purpose of a continued interrogation could possibly be,” Colin said firmly. “She has proven nothing but unwavering faith — has gone along with the investigation, answered every question you could ask of her, submitted to imprisonment and being treated like a common criminal...”

“Lord Cotswold has leveled some very serious accusations,” the first Inquisitor said mildly, turning his eerie, cold eyes to Cora — she met his gaze bravely, trying to keep her expression neutral. “There are questions that have not been satisfactorily answered. We need to apply some — persuasion.”

Cora’s stomach clenched. She felt a sudden, numbing flash of every memory she’d tried to suppress from the dreams — every violation, every injury, every drip of blood, every torn ligament and broken bone…she found herself praying desperately that they didn’t break her hands. She needed her hands…she couldn’t deliver babies without her hands...

“Persuasion? You mean torture.” Colin’s voice was full of restrained fury. “You propose to torture an innocent woman, a member of my family, a member of my household and of this Clan, based on the word of a madman.”

“Lord Cotswold —”

“Isn’t a Lord,” snapped Ian, a little less composedly than Colin had — Cora saw the Laird shoot his cousin a warning glance, which served to straighten his back and calm him a little. “We refer to him by the title to be polite, but both his land and all his holdings were taken from him after the episode he had last year. Have you heard about that?”

The Inquisitor’s face stayed blank, but his eyebrow twitched a little. “We have not interviewed Lord Cotswold.”

“See that you do,” Ian suggested. “Ask him about what happened last year. He came charging in here, accusing Maeve of witchcraft, totally baselessly, and had a complete breakdown when it was made clear to him that he was mistaken. He’s been on a vendetta ever since, it’s clear to me, and I have no evidence whatsoever that his mental state has improved since that day.”

The Inquisitors looked at one another. The second one — the one who kept yelling at her in Italian — shifted from foot to foot, clearly frustrated by the situation. The calmer one with the dead eyes gave him a meaningful look, and he quieted, though the murderous look in his eyes suggested he wasn’t very happy about it.

“We will confer,” the Inquisitor said flatly.

“Does that mean Cora is free to go?” Audrina demanded.

“She will remain in the cell until we have conferred,” the second Inquisitor said.

“But —”

“It’s alright, Maeve,” Cora said quickly, giving the Inquisitors a grateful little nod. “I’m happy to wait wherever they want me to wait.”

“We will delay the final judgment until we have spoken to Lord Cotswold. His testimony will be necessary for the final decision.”

The Inquisitors nodded to the guard, then walked out through the doors to where their horses were waiting. Heading for Lord Weatherby’s castle, no doubt, to have a bit of a chat with Lord Cotswold.

Hopefully the man is drunk already, Cora thought with uncharacteristic spite. Then they’d see what kind of a person they were dealing with — what kind of a man it was who made these baseless accusations against innocent women. Who called month-old babies ‘hellspawn’ and deliberately goaded men into attacking. Who had been in the habit of stealing newlywed women away from their husbands and — Cora stopped that line of thinking as soon as she could.

The guard gestured in the direction of Cora’s cell, and she sighed. It was going to be another cold, boring day of waiting, it seemed. Before she went, Audrina pulled her into a quick hug, and Ian gave her a much longer one.

“Well, it was nice to see a little bit of sunlight,” Cora joked as she headed back down the stairs.

“That’s my girl. Keep those spirits up. It’ll all be over soon.”

“I hope so,” Cora murmured to herself as the cell door slammed shut on her yet again. “I really do.”