Damn.
Add that to his list of mistakes.
“So, you do know what we’re talking about.” Lucien smiled triumphantly. “Good. You’ll be tried three nights from now. Should be a short process.”
“Sounds like he admitted guilt to me,” Artie agreed.
Marius shook the icy bars, their rattle echoing through the dungeon. “No, you can’t do this.”
Murder.
The word was a clanging cymbal echoing through his mind.
This was never supposed to happen.
“I assure you, we can, and we will,” Lucien said.
That was why the silver planes were dark.
Marius had suspected it before, but this confirmed it. Fortune Elves were incapable of Seeing their own deaths, which meant that unless something drastically changed, he would not have a future in a few short days.
Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he swallowed.
“Please, I beg you, send a message to the king.” Marius widened his eyes, uncaring that he was begging. “He’ll want to hear about this.”
“The king?” Artie laughed, elbowing his friend. “Imagine that. Thekingwould want to hear about two murderers up north.”
“He does!” Marius protested, shaking the bars again. “Please!”
Laughter was their only response as they turned and walked away, ignoring his continued cries.
Between the coldand Marius’s growing hunger pangs, time passed in agonizing slowness.
After the two men left, the hallway remained empty. He’d yelled at first, only stopping when he realized it was a futile effort. The cold had gotten worse, and even the ratty blanket they had provided him didn’t ward off the chill.
He wasn’t sure if hours or an entire day had gone by before a shuffling reached his ears. He pulled himself up from where he’d been sitting on the ground, gripping the bars as footsteps came from down the hall.
“Hello?” he called out, his voice hoarse from disuse.
There was no response, but the footsteps grew louder.
Marius pressed his face against the bars, peering down the hallway.
A young woman in her late teens approached him. She wore a white apron over a dark blue dress, her brown hair was twisted back in a bun, and a fur-lined cloak hung across her shoulders. Her boots clicked as she walked down the hall, her fingers clutching a wooden tray where a cup, bowl, and slice of bread balanced precariously.
She stopped in front of his cell, sliding the tray through a crack in the iron bars. Her mouth was pinched in a line, and she refused to look at him.
Marius took hold of the tray but didn’t let go. “Wait.”
She jumped as if he’d shouted at her.
Inwardly cursing, he softened his voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
The woman’s gaze was glued to the ground, but seeing as how she was still there, he figured he should continue.
“What’s your name?” Marius asked quietly.
She trembled like an autumnal leaf, ready to fall at the slightest breeze. Her lip quivered, and tears gathered at the base of her eyes.
