Vi sat curledin the back of a prison cell made of ice.
It didn’t entirely look like a prison cell—at least not the ones Vi had seen before in books and certainly not like the hanging cages of Shaldan. There were two flame bulbs frozen to the wall, fire managing to flicker within without ruining the integrity of the ice. There was scarce little else—a bed, and a place for Vi to relieve herself connected to the outer hull—though she had yet to make the attempt as that, too, was frozen over, and her shackles made it awkward.
The bed was the only thing not completely covered in ice. Vi was nestled in the furs that had been piled atop it, her back against the wall, facing the only point of exit and the one thing that made her feel as though she were in a cell. The opposite wall was made entirely of ice, like Adela’s hand, bars spanning from floor to ceiling. Only a Waterrunner—and a powerful one at that—would be able to break through or alter the ice.
Or a skilled enough Firebearer.
Or a Lightspinner.
That is, a Firebearer or Lightspinner whose magic wasn’t smothered to oblivion.
Fighting another shiver, Vi continued to stare listlessly forward. Drool collected around the gag in her mouth, dripping from her chin from time to time. Wiping it away was her only movement.
She had to focus on thinking of a way to escape. But all she could think of was her family. Was her father rotting away in a cell similar to this one on the Isle of Frost the crew had mentioned?
Escape, and kill them all, Vi thought darkly. The hole in her chest left by Jayme’s betrayal was slowly consuming her bodily. If Vi could thank her now, she would; Jayme taught her an important lesson—just how far she would go for her family and her mission.
“Well, well… look at you now,princess,” a familiar voice sneered. Fallor strolled into her field of vision, as if he was taking a walk through a park. “How far you’ve fallen.”
Vi narrowed her eyes slowly, watching him.
“Oh, don’t get up, princess, not on this lowlysoldier’saccount.”
She hadn’t intended to. He wasn’t worth the energy.
It was then Vi noticed the thick black brows he’d had painted on the last time she’d seen him were gone. In their place were four small dots above each eye that seemed to almost shimmer with a dark, crimson color.
“Wondering what these are?” He noticed her stare.
Vi gave a small nod. Let’s see how much precious information she could get him to slip.
Fallor leaned into the bars, gripping them with his bare hands. Vi couldn’t imagine how he would pry them off without losing a layer of flesh to the ice. He pushed his face forward, ruddy hair hanging around it in gnarly ropes. “They’re the mark of the Morphi.”
Vi tilted her head.
“You wouldn’t know, as a dweller of the Dark Isle. You have no idea of half the splendid things in this world.” He pushed away, still grinning like a madman. “And you never will. You’ll rot here until we deliver you to the elfin’ra. And from what I hear, they’ll make you wish you were back in Adela’s generous accommodations.”
Vi kept her face passive. The last thing she wanted to do was give this man any kind of emotion. Fear or rage—he’d delight in all of it, because it would give him the knowledge that he had power over her—that he could control, in part, what she felt. And Vi would be damned if she gave him the satisfaction.
“Seeing you, like this… so strong, so stubborn… you remind me of your father. He was like this too, you know, at first. You’re making him proud.”
The gag in her mouth ached. She wanted to spit every vile curse she knew at this man. But other than gnawing on the iron ball between her teeth, Vi worked to remain passive. At least until Fallor added, “But you’ll break eventually, just as he did. And he was a delight to crush.”
Vi launched off the bed and crossed the small cell in two wide steps. She glared at Fallor through the bars. Fists balled. Face lined with anger.
“Oh, you want to get to me?”
She nodded. She’d tear him apart with magic. She’d show him exactly who was going to be crushed.
“You want to speak?”
She nodded again, even though she knew he was just toying with her.
“Perhaps the elfin’ra will let you in five days. Enjoy your time here, princess.”
Fallor left. Vi watched him stroll down the long hall she’d been dragged down, up until the point he vanished from her field of vision. Vi spun in place, leaning against the bars. The ice sent tingling daggers up her spine, clearing her head.
She couldn’t allow herself to get so fired up; she would just play into their hands. But her emotions seemed fragile and scattered. Just when she thought—
