She knew all about Rebels. The whole of Zanstonia did, whatever the Borough. They were known to be against the king, and their leader had been executed last year for trying to kidnap … well, her. She assumed her father had killed those who hadn’t managed to escape. Dionne seemed to know a lot. Perhaps she might have an answer. ‘Aren’t Rebels executed?’
‘Some are, depends on their crime, like anyone else, but the law says you can’t be executed under the age of twenty-three, so anyone below that age given the death penalty is sent here.’ She jerked her chin at the island, then blinked away the rain on her long lashes. ‘Anyone on Horstal Island with the death penalty is hanged in the courtyard on the day of their twenty-third birthday.’
It wasn’t just the chill in the air that caused Scarlen’s body to tense. The thought of knowing that was coming would be terrifying.
‘Last time I was an inmate, there were five Rebels in there. Four of them got caught trying to break into the king’s palace. He arrested them for treason. I got to watch one of them hang.’ Dionne shook her head, spits of water flicking off her hair. ‘That’s not something I’ll ever unsee.’
‘Why did you watch?’
‘You don’t get a choice.’
Scarlen hoped no one was due to hang while she served her time. ‘That’s harsh.’
‘Fucked up, more like. But, hey, that’s Horstal. Wait till you see what else they do to us.’
The skipper yelled something that was lost to the wind, and the guards stepped closer to the prisoners as theWarden Klinerbumped against the wharf.
Scarlen swallowed hard as she stood upon wobbly legs.Breathe, just breathe.
Dionne tapped her hand while the guards weren’t looking. ‘Just remember what I told you, and you’ll be all right. You’re small enough to not stick out like a sore thumb.’ She followed up with a soft smile.
A signal was given to a guard in the tower, then another guard appeared and the prisoners were guided off the vessel as a flash of lightning lit the sky. They all shuffled forward to a cross-barred gate, then through an opened iron door, the warmth inside as soothing as a hot bath. Scarlen figured the light was witch magick, like they had at the palace, as fire sconces might pose a problem in a prison.
The guards wore a navy uniform with silver buttons, their lightning rod on show, secured to their side along with a bunch of keys in a brown belt that matched their shoes. Each guard had their name stitched into the top left side of their blazer.
A guard unchained the prisoners, leaving the magickal ones with their Rings on, then pointed to another doorway. ‘Remove your cloaks. Step this way.’
The room had pale-pink walls and a brown rug covering most of the dark polished floor. A slight waft of disinfectant filled the air, and black wording by another door said ‘Admissions’.
Scarlen was searched by a female guard who was efficient when it came to rummaging around in her long plait, which used to be twice the length before she’d run away from home and cut some. Her ears were checked, nose, and mouth, then she was told to go into the next room, which looked the same as the last.
‘Name?’ asked the guard, sitting behind a bolted steel desk.
She was stuck with it for now, so replied, ‘Scarlen Smithson.’
He glanced up. ‘When you address a guard, you say sir or miss, unless it’s the warden, then you say Warden Cardell.’ The education was given casually and with little expression.
‘Yes, sir.’ She paused. ‘Would it be possible for me to see Warden Cardell?’
That widened his eyes. ‘Friend of yours?’
‘No, sir. I wanted to go over my case with him.’Let him know who I am.
A snigger jabbed her way. ‘We’re not the courthouse. This is prison. Yourcasehas been well and truly dealt with. So, no, you won’t be seeing the warden.’
‘I can’t even get a message to him?’
He looked at her as though she were stupid. ‘No.’
‘But—’
‘Do you have any tattoos, major scars, or birthmarks anywhere on your body?’
She glanced at the faint ring mark, lighter than her pale skin, surrounding her wedding finger. ‘Just this birthmark.’
He made a note. ‘You’re to have a shower, your clothes will be taken, and you’re to put on a prison uniform. You’re in Green Block Two, so your uniform will be green. It’s against the rules to wear the wrong colour for your block, so if you’re ever cold and an Amber offers their sweatshirt, decline. Understand?’
She didn’t understand why she would be around an Amber but nodded anyway. ‘Yes, sir.’
