Ailor’s lips quirk. “You’re a little young to be a count, kid. From what I remember, they’re all older than me.”
“My father is Seok, the Count of Gain,” I say.
Ridges mar his forehead. “Oh, so you reallyarea hostage.”
I nod. “What did you do?”
“To tell you the truth, I don’t know.” Ailor coughs and then stretches his legs in front of him. “I was at home, and then suddenly the palace guard arrived, and I was taken and brought here. I don’t claim to be an innocent man—it could be any number of things from my past. But I’m not sure what I did to warrant Idle or why I was put in the cell with you. I take it you didn’t have anyone else in here before.”
I shake my head.
“I wonder why the special treatment, then. I would think it has something to do with my boy, but if that were the case, I would be dead.”
“Who is that? Your son?”
He smiles. “I’d rather not say.”
I have to respect that. I have people I want to protect as well.
A prisoner wails in the distance. It’s a high-pitched scream that makes me shudder for how brief it was. Chills run along my arms, and Ailor turns toward the noise as well. Whatever is being done to the man is doubtlessly horrific. All prisons are a type of torture. Some are just more direct.
“I take it not every cell comes with lanterns and cheese and privacy,” he says. “Perks of your status?”
“A friend on the outside,” I admit.
I still don’t trust this man, and I want to protect Hana as best I can. That prisoner’s scream was a harsh reminder that there were other ways to get information out of me. Hana chose kindness because I saved Nayo. Although I suppose “saved” is the wrong word. Even a month forced to serve as a pleasure boy would be beyond saving for me. But he is free. “Saved from worse” is more accurate.
“Can that friend get a message out of here?” Ailor ventures.
“I don’t know,” I say. “Truthfully, I don’t know if they will return.”
“I guess we will hope they do.” He coughs again and leans against the wall.
He puts it so simply that I can’t help but think it’s the only thing to do—to hope.
Hope is the first thing that flees from a place like this. Either Ailor is a spy or he is an incredible coincidence, because for the first time since I received Sora’s letter, I feel some optimism. Like there is reason to hope. Like I might just survive. Like we all might make it.
Chapter Forty-Three
Mikail
City of Loptra, Khitan
She is dead.
I close my eyes, then inhale the pain. With a single breath, I lock away yet another tragedy to the recesses of my mind. Maybe one day the dam won’t hold and I’ll burst with horrors—but for now I press on. I can’t alter the message. I can’t change reality. Daysum is dead, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I am not Lord Yama, the god of death who can send souls to be reborn. The only thing to do is to move forward. That’s the only thing to ever do.
I swipe at my eyes and fling the letters and decoding paper into the fire. Then I get to work. I’ve been through far worse. I’ll get through this.
As I planned, I code and write out my messages. I suppress all my sadness and load the carrier pouches, then slide a ten mark to the woman behind the counter. With that amount of money, she’ll pick the fastest, strongest birds. The ones that fly high enough to evade archers.
The gray-haired woman slips the tip into her pocket, then ties the pouches to the eagles. She removes their tethers and hoods and releases them one by one through the aperture in the ceiling.
I pay the total with my mind clear, yet my hands shake as I take the change. I stare at my fingers. It’s curious. I resolved to care more about the living than the dead long ago, but grief surrounds me, heavy as lead. Although I suppose my issue is still the living—how do I tell Sora?
I rub my forehead and wander back toward the dress house. I take the long way, hoping the words come to me. As I pass the marketplace, I pick up provisions, replacing what we lost in the sled. I haggle with the sellers because they expect it, but also because I’m in no hurry.
Once I have the goods purchased and couriered to the inn, I secure winter horses for tomorrow. There’s someone watching me, a spy. Euyn has gone on and on about how someone has been following us, and I suppose he was right. But they’re far enough away to just be observing.
