The cell she sat in was nothing like the one she’d imagined. It was a cold, wet place designed to squeeze the last bit of hope from your heart. There was no bed and no blanket. And there definitely wasn’t a window for her to look out of. Here, there was only herself and any misery she dragged alongside her.
“They tell me you refuse to give your name.”
An older, thin man stood outside her cell, his cheeks hidden by a groomed beard. The hairs were combed to perfection—all tiny soldiers in line on his face. The pins on his uniform were just as straight. The hollow circle over his heart designated him as a captain. Just like that decorated lone guard in the square.
This captain did not smile at her. Since he’d slapped cuffs on her at the edge of the Drowning Square, she had yet to see him drop his scowl.
“But I think you’ll tell me your name,” the captain said, leaning forward so his nose hovered between the bars of the cell.
“You’re wrong.”
“You’ll tell me because I’m not like those nice guards who were gentle when they brought you in—” He cut off, as if he’d just realizedshe’d spoken. He blinked at her. “Do you have any idea what’s going to happen to you?”
She shrugged. “I don’t care.”
The older captain studied her like she was an oddly behaving animal.
She crossed her arms, leaned back against the cool stone.
“You don’t care,” he said, speaking slowly, “that you’re about to die?”
She cocked her head at him.
She’d been in far worse situations. Which made it difficult to take this captain seriously. And then there was still the fact that Phineas was having her followed. He couldn’t get her back if he let her die.
Anger burst to life in the form of tiny half stars at the seams of the captain’s eyes. “You know they shut down traffic out of the city?”
Officially. That wouldn’t stop Phineas. His routes in and out of Gadore remained open. She’d used one just the other night.
“Do you know why?”
She kept her expression as bored as possible. “They want to subject more people to the torture that is your face?”
The captain gripped the bars so tight she could see the curve of bone under his skin. “Fleeing the scene of a crime,” he sneered at her, all teeth and snake eyes, “makes you look like a damned good suspect. All it takes is one word from me, and you’ll be thrown down that well.”
“I’m innocent.” Not that such a thing ever mattered.
“Then there’s the small matter of this.” The captain pulled something from the pouch hanging at his belt. Metal flashed. “The guards confiscated it.”
Her flask had been the one thing she couldn’t hide. She’d shoved the strange coin in her mouth before they took her belongings and made her strip. That had been the real reason she hadn’t given a name. Her mouth had already been too full to put words in it. Now she clutched the coin in her fist.
The captain unscrewed the cap of her flask. “I wonder what we’ll find in here.” His gaze held hers as he gently tipped the top of the flask toward the ground. At first, it was just a dribble, then the captain tiltedhis hand further, and the full volume of her flask splashed against the smudged stone.
The captain bent down to study the small puddle. “What do we have here?”
“Water.”
He sniffed the opening of her flask. “Seawater,” he crooned. “The only thing in the world capable of diluting magic.”
She couldn’t help it. She laughed. The sound filled the cell then pounded its way down the hall.
“Don’t you get it? You’re going to drown!”
She stopped laughing.
Before the captain could say more, a prison guard stepped up to the bars and inserted a set of keys into the lock. A click echoed around the cell.
“What do you think you’re doing?” the captain asked.
