THIRST GNAWED AT ME, BUT THE HOLLOW AND ACHE weren’t nearly as acute as before. I was on my back, lying on something not exactly soft, but far more luxurious than the stone floor of my cell. A thin bed, maybe.
“Four days?” The feminine voice was distant, distorted by my own muggy mind. “You left her in there for four days and thought she wouldn’t die?”
“She’s still alive.” That was Altan’s voice. Of course I knew his voice. I’d been waiting to hear it every moment since he closed the cell doors after my bath—dreading to hear it.
If he’d offered just a sip of water, I’d have told him everything he wanted to know. I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself. I’d have done anything for drink, especially once the hallucinations started.
He moved closer, still talking. “That’s what matters to you, isn’t it? Keeping her alive?”
“We need her healthy, too. In case the Luminary Council sends for her. You’ve heard the rumors from the Shadowed City.” The voice was feminine, definitely, but too far away for me to know immediately. More likely I didn’t know her at all. There were a lot of people in the Heart of the Great Warrior, I had to keep reminding myself. “It’s a miracle that she’s alive,” she said.
“I left her with enough water to survive, as long as she rationed. And she did.” Altan stood so, so close to me. Too close. “She’s not as stupid as you think. She knew to save her supplies.”
“You’re lucky,” the woman said. “That’s all.” They were both quiet for a moment. Papers rattled. Metal clanged. Then: “What did she do, anyway?”
“I caught her stealing food to give to her neighbors. You know those Daminans. They just can’t help themselves when it comes to charity.”
My heart sped up. I hadn’t been stealing food for Aaru and Gerel. What was he talking about?
“She’ll recover in a few days,” Altan went on. “She’s already improved. Look. She’s responding well to the treatment.”
Treatment?
Vaguely, I became aware of a faint pressure against my inner elbow, and strength flowing in. I could breathe easier. My heart beat at an even pace. Drowsiness made my thoughts float away, but the panic had subsided.
I must have moved or made a sound, because Altan said, “Good morning, Fancy.” Fingertips grazed my forehead, like he was brushing aside a loose strand of hair. Disgust rolled through me, but I couldn’t find it in myself to move away. His presence was paralyzing. “Certain people thought we’d lost you, but I knew better.”
A shudder ran the length of me. That wasn’t true. Altan didn’t know anything about me.
My mouth still felt too dry to speak, but even if I could have, I wouldn’t have known how to respond. At least I could open my eyes now.
Two people stood over me. Altan, of course, wearing his customary smirk. A middle-aged woman I didn’t know, and didn’t want to; a scowl looked permanently etched onto her face. A tall wooden stand held a canvas bag aloft, and a thin tube ran from the bag and met its end at a needle, which pressed into my arm.
“Coconut water.” Altan watched my gaze. “Inserted directly into your veins. Commonly used to revive warriors and trainees who collapse from heat and dehydration.”
I’d heard about that, actually. Doctor Chilikoba had been called to Khulan to consult on whether the Khulani doctors should be allowed to continue this practice, though I’d never been told the decision reached. When she’d returned, she’d spent our entire visit telling me why she liked the theory behind this, but not the technique used. “It’s a quick way to rehydrate someone, but there’s not enough prevention of air bubbles from being introduced into the blood. Even a small bubble could kill someone. It’s a brilliant idea, but Khulani doctors need to perfect the treatment before continuing to use it on patients. They risk killing as many as they save.”
Her lecture had been distantly interesting, but I’d never thought it might apply to me one day. I’d always assumed Doctor Chilikoba would be the only doctor looking after me.
But the Pit changed everything. What if the liquid ran out and they had to add more? What if they hadn’t been careful filling the bag in the first place? Anything could add a bubble of air that moved directly into my veins.
Considering how concerned they were about my life and health, this seemed like an unnecessary risk. With my free hand, I reached for the needle.
The frowning woman slapped my fingers. “Don’t touch.”
A whimper crawled out of my throat. I did not want that thing inside me. Yes, it was saving me right now, but every second it stayed there risked a surprise death.
Altan gestured toward the scowling lady. “This is Rosa. Yes, she’s Daminan. No, she won’t help you escape. She works for the Pit infirmary.” He offered a cup. “Drink.”
The coconut water cloyed on my tongue. I’d never liked it, even as a child. Too sweet. But now, I emptied the cup in seven long gulps. The cool liquid flowed down my throat and stomach, repairing the damage done by days without a drink. As I lowered the cup, I finally got a look around the room.
I was in an infirmary. One I’d cleaned before. Four stone walls, five empty beds, two observation windows, and one open door with a retreating figure. The woman Altan had been talking with before he noticed I was awake? It hadn’t been Rosa; her voice was too rough.
Two more cups of coconut water went down before my throat no longer felt like a desert.
I wished I didn’t know about the missing dragons. I wished for ignorance. For the freedom to continue life as before, with my mother and father and sister who didn’t understand me, with my guard and friend who knew me, and with my tiny dragon who meant everything in the world to me. I wished for that innocence again.
If I hadn’t snooped in places I didn’t belong, I wouldn’t be here now. Starved. Dehydrated. Dirty. Miserable. Trapped. The unnatural sensation of liquid dripping into my arm, a small bubble of death ready to strike any second.
Altan stood over me, tall and imposing. “What did you think of being alone?” A muscle ticked by his jaw. Two, three, four times. His eyes were narrowed, all humor pressed out of them.
Strength through silence, like Aaru had said. If I refused to respond, nothing I said could be used against me. Of course, it was my silence that had gotten me locked in my cell. Alone. And starving.
Four days. It had seemed like so much longer.
“How did you like the dark?” Altan’s voice deepened as he leaned toward me, more dangerous than ever. “Were you lonely? Afraid? Hungry?”
A low groan built in my throat. I didn’t want to think about the nightmare of that isolation. My body didn’t obey, though. My hands shook and my heart sped, warning of an attack. I fought to steady my breathing, in through my nose and out through my mouth. One. Two.
Three. Four.
Five. Six.
Seven.
Eight.
Please, Damina.
Nine.
Please.
Ten.
But my head buzzed and my vision tunneled, like the anxiety didn’t care that I had no energy for another attack right now. The anxiety never cared.
“Maybe we don’t have such different goals.” Altan stood straight and shook the danger from his tone, confident I wouldn’t forget the threat. He gestured to Rosa. “Will our guest live if you remove the needle now?”
The woman nodded.
“Then do it.” He curled his lips at me. “Here’s what’s going to happen if we can’t get along: I’ll have a private cell prepared for you, apart from the rest of the first level.”
My heart leaped, making my whole body jerk as Rosa pulled the needle from my arm. Coconut water dribbled from the tip of the needle before she pinched the tube and moved to put away the lifesaving death trap. Then she left the room.
“What do you think?” A smile slithered across Altan’s face. “Will some more alone time help you?”
Alone again. In a strange cell, not my own. Not even the faint familiarity of the first level, with my sewage hole and space beneath my bed. Just a vast darkness and maddening silence.
No, I didn’t want that.
But I couldn’t tell Altan anything. He was not trustworthy.
But if I insisted on keeping the dragon secret, he’d lock me away.
But the dragons.
But the darkness.
The awful choice only encouraged the headache pulsing behind my eyes and back through my temples. No matter what I did or didn’t do, there would be consequences. “What do you want with dragons?” My voice came harsh. Raspy.
“I want to save them,” he said. “Of course.”
I couldn’t believe Altan wanted to save anyone or anything. As a warrior, part of his duty was to protect all of the Fallen Isles, but how could that be true when he delighted in cruelty?
If I said nothing, it was into a new and terrible cell for me. And I couldn’t . . .
I couldn’t do that again. I couldn’t handle that terror. I’d lose my mind to the darkness. The strange woman had sounded like she wanted me kept alive, but Altan had already demonstrated that my life was inconsequential to him.
I should have died. It wasn’t as if I’d ever been forced to ration food like that. Damina was a wealthy island, and my family wealthier than most, thanks to Father’s ties with the Luminary Council. I’d always had enough food, carefully prepared by one of the best chefs in all the Fallen Isles. Even three years ago—the year there’d been a drought and tables all across the Isles of Lovers were leaner than usual—I’d had enough to eat.
I didn’t know how to be hungry.
The fact that I was still alive truly revealed Darina and Damyan’s love, because I could not have survived that on my own.
“You know what’s coming for you, Mira.” Altan loomed over me, full of barely contained fury.
I had no doubt that he would follow through with the threat to lock me in a more isolated cell. Alone. In the dark. Starving.
The thought of another day like that—let alone four more—made me want to curl up and die. I wasn’t strong enough to bear it.
“All right.” My heart thundered in my ears so loudly that I could barely hear my own whisper. “I’ll tell you what I know.”
I hated myself for the words, but they worked magic. Immediately, Tirta appeared in the doorway bearing a tray laden with food. One plain ceramic bowl with a dark liquid inside. One plate, piled high with fish and beans and rice. One fork, one spoon, one napkin.
At home, it would have been a very uninteresting meal, but here—right now—it was a feast. For a second, I didn’t even care about the utensils. I wanted to dig my hands straight into the rice and shove it in my mouth. I couldn’t even imagine taking the time to chew. Such was the hollow pain of hunger.
But Tirta’s gaze darted toward Altan and she placed the tray on the bed next to mine, just out of my reach. “Sorry,” she mouthed. Her seven braids swung down the back of her neck as she turned away, keeping her face down like a proper prisoner.
Oh. Of course. He’d make me wait to eat until after I told him what he wanted to know. Showing me the food before—that was just another way of taunting me.
My stomach gave a pathetic growl. I wanted that food, but I was still so weak I could barely lift my head, let alone launch myself onto the tray.
Altan glanced at Tirta. “Out.”
Her mouth dropped open, as though she wanted to protest, but instead, she nodded and exited the room, shutting the door firmly after her. Altan and I were alone.
“Now, tell me what you know.” Altan crossed his arms over his chest. Muscles strained beneath the leather jacket, like I needed the reminder of his ability to overpower me. Like I needed the reminder of my own frailty.
Ilina would say I was trading the dragons for a few bites of food and company in my cellblock.
Hristo would say I needed to do anything I could to stay alive.
And Mother would say I should not tell the truth.
“Dragons have vanished from the Crescent Prominence sanctuary,” Altan said. “I know that much. And I know that you have information on their whereabouts.”
How did Altan know about vanishing dragons? I hadn’t even known until a month ago—the day of the earthquake on Idris.
“What makes you think I know anything?” I clamped my mouth shut, praying he wouldn’t lock me in the isolation cell on principle.
A knifelike smile split his frown. “I have friends everywhere. I wasn’t always a prison guard.” He touched the clawed pin on his jacket. “And I won’t stay a prison guard once I have everything I want from you.”
My whole body shuddered. Altan had spies—or access to spies—in the Luminary Council. Or someone who worked for them, more likely, or else he wouldn’t need me.
“Well?” He glanced pointedly at the tray of food Tirta had left behind. “You know your options. Do you really want to spend more time alone in the dark?”
No.
I couldn’t.
I’d die.
There was no telling when Mother and Father would get me out, and I wouldn’t survive until then if I kept clutching this secret. Tirta had said so many adults died in the Pit because they expected things. Maybe I was like that—expecting food and water and decent treatment.
Now I knew better.
Tirta had said that prisoners who adapted survived longer.
I had to adapt. I had to be a Drakontos mimikus and change myself for protection.
Give up my secret or die. There were no good options.
“Very well.” I closed my eyes and sucked in a deep, dread-filled breath. “I don’t know much. I—” I swallowed a knot in my throat. “I found shipping orders. Instructions to move fourteen large dragons to the mainland. Someone is sending our dragons to the Algotti Empire.”