“I thought we agreed I would be asking the questions.”
“I just let you think that,” Knox says, tilting his head. “What is it like having a twin?”
“We never got along as children,” I say. A smile drifts along my face. “We fought all the time. I think our feud started when I accidentally stuck gum in her hair. She had to shave her head, and she never forgave me.”
“Sounds brutal,” he says, with a wry grin. “You two look so alike. How could your mother tell you apart?”
“A mother’s intuition.” I shrug. “We could never trick her.”
“Do you switch places often?” he asks.
My eyes narrow, but his face is relaxed. That familiar smile tugging at his lips.
“No,” I say slowly. “We only did it when we were young. I struggled with mathematics, while she couldn’t pass her science class. So, we would sit in for each other’s exams, since we were decent in the other’s subject.”
“Sounds quite convenient.”
“It was at the time. We’re best friends now,” I say. “I just wish my mother could see us. She’d be so happy that we are getting along.”
She had always said that having a sister was a blessing. At the time, I had vehemently disagreed, but now I know that Mercy is special. Even if we argue at times and don’t have much in common, I know that she will always protect me as I will her.
“I’m sorry,” Knox whispers. “About your mother.”
“It’s fine,” I say. “It was a long time ago.”
“How old were you?” he asks gently.
“Seven,” I say.
Knox is silent, and I turn to my side to get some sleep. The floor is hard, and my ribs are sore, but I don’t have the strength to talk anymore.
By tomorrow, we should hear back from the High General’s office about how they plan to handle the prisoner exchange or if they reject the offer.
“Night, Mercy,” Knox says.
“Good night,” I murmur.
Prue nudges my shoulder at dawn. The windows are barred with thick planks, but I can see twinkles of midmorning light creeping in. Like a serrated blade, it cuts through my skull, making my eyes throb.
It’s been two days since we were captured. I would kill for a fresh pair of clothes. My uniform is stained with dirt and dry blood. Knox doesn’t look any better. He’s curled up on the floor, eyes closed, dark lashes grazing his cheekbones.
“Your father is buying time,” she whispers. “I don’t think he has any intention of releasing the prisoner in exchange for you. He is likely assembling a search and rescue team.”
I rub my eyes, pulling on the chain.
“What now?”
“We’ll need to send him a message,” she says. “I’ll need a lock of your hair.”
“As long as it’s not a finger, I’m fine,” I say.
Prue brings out a knife and snips a piece of hair from my nape.
“You can use the necklace too,” I say.
Warrick bought it for Mercy on our birthday. He never got me presents because I was a “disobedient brat,” in his words. Ikeep the chain on so it can help me channel more of my sister’s good nature and remind me to stiffen my temper.
“That might stir him,” I add.
