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Blair’s mouth fell open in horror.

Obedience lay slumped against the wall just behind the place where his cage had once been, impaled on a shard of glass. The force of his wings had clearly slammed her against it; the glass had dug into her back like a dagger, slicing straight through. The jagged edge protruding from her stomach was drenched in blood. Her legs were splayed out on the floor, her head bent at an unnatural angle.

Her lifeless blue eyes stared unseeingly at the small window above her head.

Blair tried to scream, but no sound came out. Clement turned him away, sliding something cool and smooth onto his finger.

His ring. Lucy’s ring.

His vision swam in and out of focus as Clement led him into a dark corridor. A horrible lurch of familiarity rushed through him, and then came the sensation of falling, falling, falling through a black hole.

He awoke inside a memory.

Blair sat huddled in his cage, the cold, damp air clinging to his skin. The small window above him offered no more than a suggestion of light. He peered into the cage beside him to find Lucy curled up in the dirt, her breathing slow and heavy. The sight of her was reassuring. At least he wasn’t alone.

A door creaked open in the darkness. Blair sat up, strands of his filthy hair sticking to his raw face. His heartbeat pounded out an irregular rhythm against his frail ribs. He was so thin that if he looked down, he would have been able to see the movement of his heart beneath his pallid skin, like a trapped, panicked animal demanding release.

When he saw that the face of his visitor did not belong to the witch, he let out a shaky exhalation of relief. “Mrs. Kanniff,” he whispered, and she smiled sadly as she settled down on the floor just outside the bars.

“How are you, my dear?” Mrs. Kanniff looked him over, a heavy crease between her brows. “I wish I could find a way to help you. If it were safe to leave this place, I would find you some willow bark or cattail. Even cranberries would do in a pinch.”

“What for?” Blair frowned, leaning forward so that he could see her face more clearly through the gloom. With her thick Scottish brogue, it was sometimes easier to understand her words if he could watch her speak them.

“To help you and that poor girl heal.”

“I didn’t realize you knew about medicine.”

A smile flitted across her cheeks, but the dark circles beneath her eyes made the expression bittersweet. “My husband was a physician. I learned much from him.” She smoothed a hand over her stained citrus-colored dress, gazing into the distance as though she could see something beyond the dank stone walls encasing them.

Blair had never discovered why Mrs. Kanniff lived in their shared prison, only that she wasn’t involved in the witch’s plans, that she was in fact doing everything she could to make his and Lucy’s lives as livable as possible. He’d also deduced that she wasn’t supposed to visit their cells, and though she’d never said as much, he imagined it must have been dangerous for her to do so. Selfishly, he enjoyed her company so much that he hadn’t found it within him to ask her to stay away.

Several times, he had considered giving her his parents’ address and asking her to write to them if she was able. But the witch had warned him against speaking with anyone, and promised that his family would be targeted if he were to ever tell a soul who he was or where he came from. He didn’t think that Mrs. Kanniff would betray his trust, but he could never be certain that the witch wasn’t nearby, secretly eavesdropping.

“I’ll tell you what,” said Mrs. Kanniff, her face brightening. “When you are far away from here, safe at home, I want you to find a copy of a book called Materia Medica. There will be plenty of recipes in there to help with the healing process.”

Blair smiled, touched by her kindness. “I’m not certain I’ll ever be free from this place. If I am someday, I will do that. Thank you.”

They both froze at the sound of a far-off noise. When the sound dissolved into the darkness, Mrs. Kanniff whispered, “The folks in the village aren’t pleased that I know my remedies better than their physician. Men are intimidated by me.”

“I don’t find you intimidating.”

Muffled footsteps issued from somewhere nearby, and Mrs. Kanniff scrambled to her feet. She brushed the dirt from her dress. “Take care, my dear. Dream of a place far from here, and someday it will be true.” She kissed her palm and pressed it to the bars before hurrying down a stone-lined corridor.

Blair’s heart hammered in his ears as the witch’s footsteps drew nearer. She came into view, her flaxen hair lit by the light that crept through the tiny window like a taunt—a cruel reminder that a wide world existed outside of these bars, if only Blair could reach it. The witch’s red lips curled into a crescent moon smile.

Lucy stirred awake. When she caught sight of the witch, her eyes went wild. She dragged herself across the dirt to the back of the cage, her fingers scraping into the compact earth.

“Have a nice sleep?” Obedience asked. “You’re going to help me with something important today, Miss Lucy.”

The witch cocked her head and the cage door unlocked with a metallic click and swung open. Obedience closed her fist around thin air, her magic tugging on Lucy’s body as though there was a hook fastened to the girl’s tattered shirt. Forced from her cage and cowering at Obedience’s feet, Lucy curled into a ball and began to rock.

Rage roiled through Blair like acid, nearly choking him. “Let her rest! I’ll do whatever you want. Use your magic on me, not her!”

Obedience’s attention snapped onto him the way sharp teeth closed around a fresh kill. Slowly, she smiled. “I applaud your bravery, Mr. Saltonstall. But this is a task for Miss Lucy.”

Blair turned his face away as Obedience knelt before Lucy. He waited for her torturous screams to rip through him, for her cries to hit him like a physical blow.

Instead, he heard a crack.