“Soldiers,tench-hut. There is aqueenamong us,” a voice said mockingly from the dark corner cell. Yemi squinted in its direction to see only a mop of damp dark hair framing dark eyes set in a disfigured face glistening with either blood or sweat.
“Not quite,” she replied.
“What brings the Little Fish of Ixia into the bowels of hell?” said the shadow.
“Curiosity,” Yemi replied. “I was told there were more of you.”
“Other side of the wall.” The woman across the room pointed with her head. “The ones Cutter got ahold of? Ain’t no use to you no more.”
Yemi glanced toward the wall. She knew the cells beneath the Rock were haunted by the things that happened in them. Her own curiosity had never been so intense as to take her there.
“I see. I’ll begin with this: Is there anyone here who thinks they shouldn’t be? That they weren’t intent on engaging in anything criminal? Or are we all standing nobly in our truths today, bold and willing to die for them?”
All was silent but the crackling torchlight, the ragged, raspy breathing of some faceless no one in their cage.
“I appreciate your honesty. Now, did you come into our queen’s service tainted, or were you seduced to this other side after you swore your oaths? Did they have to work hard to turn you from us, or were you weak from the beginning?”
“We’re tired,” said a baritone off to her left.
“Excuse me?” Yemi said, silently thrilled for any response. He was an older man, mid-forties, still with his military bearing. He squatted against the back wall, less beaten than his compatriot, but he did look tired.
“We’re tired. Our families are tired, what remains of them. Tired of fighting, of waiting for the next fight. There can be no lasting peace with Mer blood on the throne.”
“Your name?”
“Caphree. She’s Tenerive. He’s Wall.”
“Mr. Caphree, we have been in peacetime for eight years. You all are the first whiff we’ve had of an insurgency in that time.”
He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. Only so much time will pass before Kespia starts a new campaign.”
“Or the Rakelands are on the move again,” Tenerive added from the cell beside him.
“Either way,” Caphree continued, “a new fight will come because of who is on the throne. And it’ll be us that’s paying for it again.”
“And you have a plan to keep that from happening? An endgame? Or is it all bluster and idle chitchat?”
Nothing was said, but Caphree and the woman were exchanging threatening stares. It was likely no one was supposed to talk. Yemi was surprised anyone had.
“Your situation can only improve from here if you’re forthright with me,” Yemi assured them.
“It wasn’t going to be a fight. The Drakes were going to get you to step down. Abdicate peacefully,” said Caphree.
“Theywere,” Tenerive scoffed. She chuckled and paced to the other side of her cell. “But now, who knows? After yesterday, they’ll be on the defensive.”
“Give me numbers. Some idea of what they’re capable of,” Yemi said quickly, not wanting her goodwill to run out.
Caphree shrugged. “Dozens. A hundred, maybe. Mostly civilians. They’d be capable in a fight because they’re used to it. But like I said, there was no plan for one in the beginning. They’d need time to coordinate something.”
Tenerive approached the wall between them, staring Yemi down, sweaty but apparently cooperative, judging by how clean she still was. “We told Cutter what he wanted to know. We’re not inner circlewith the Drake woman. No one here knew anything about aplan,” she said.
“Smart of her. For all she knew, you were loyal,” said Yemi.
“You have to know it wasn’t personal. Many of us see a future for you and for the country. Just not together,” said Caphree.
“?‘Many of us’ in the queen’s ranks or in your circle of traitors?” Yemi asked.
“Idiots. Trying to talk sense to the sea-thing,” Wall grumbled from the corner cell.
