I don't sleep all night. I stay wide awake. The other women in the cell stared at me but didn't speak. They lied down and went to sleep knowing I'd be here in the morning. I close my eyes often though, blocking out the nightmarish noises of moans and cries. I'm doing this for Nate. What did he ever do for me? He tried to kill me in the beginning. He also saved me multiple times. I hold my head. Being here is going to turn me bitter against him easily.

Prisoners begin waking up, and my cellmates introduce themselves as far as their names go. I told them my name was Sana. Only the girl my age, whose name is Ambry, attempts a conversation with me.

"What did you do to get thrown in here?" she speaks to me in Quillian.

I pace along the width of the cell, stretching out my muscles. The answer to that question that the soldiers know is unknown to me. I reply fluidly in her language, "A lot of things."

"Like?" She seems desperate. I don't blame her. I suppose it's the question to ask your cellmates. I want to know if any of mine are murderers.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Oh, right. Sorry for prying. I snuck into a house with my siblings, if you were wondering."

I pause in my prowling. That was blunt. "What?"

"The house was empty at the time. That's why I got arrested."

I take a seat in front of her. Maybe she can take my mind off infections and Nate.

"My parents died leaving me to take care of my five younger siblings. When we were kicked out of our home I found an empty one. Since we were trespassing and I was the guardian, I was thrown in here."

"Your siblings?"

"They work in the palace. At least I know they have a place to sleep and are being fed."

"Do you get fed?"

"They don't starve us here. We get fed once a day in our cells. Later we'll have an hour outside, and we'll eat as we walk back."

"How do the soldiers treat us?"

"Depends on what you've done."

And that's exactly what I don't know.

*****

A soldier lowers three of the bars to our cell. "All right. Get up. Get up."

I stand, letting my cellmates go ahead of me. We fall into line behind the other prisoners and walk down a hallway. Prisoners grumble as we shove each other along. The air smells musty and sweaty.

"What's going on?" I whisper to Ambry.

"We're going outside. We can shower if we want."

The path leads us up a flight of stairs. At the top two soldiers separate males and females by sending them through different doors.

A woman shoves me through the door on the right, and I'm met with the bluish gray light of outside, finding myself trapped in a rectangular courtyard. Across from me is a long metal building. Ambry motions for me to follow her toward it. Once we reach it we wait in another line.

"What is this place?" I ask.

"Showers."

A woman comes up to us as we draw closer to the front of the line. "Strip."

Ambry does so immediately. I stand there in shock.

"Well get on with it." Ambry peels off her undergarments. "You can't be expecting to shower in your clothing."

They'll see my lashes. "No, it's not that. Shouldn't we wait to remove our clothes until we're in the chambers?"

"Does it matter?"

I look around. "Well don't you feel awkward being naked in front of all these people?"

"They're just women. Besides we're naked when we're showering. Just be glad it's not cold—"

"Do you mean to tell me we're all showering together?" 

"Yes. Do you expect to have your own private bath?" She laughs. "Those luxuries aren't for us." Criminals. That's what she means.

"But you're not a criminal."

She rolls up her clothing. "In Quill's eyes I am."

I begin taking off the layers of mine, my back aching each time I have to strain it. I feel the eyes of everyone behind me on my back. I wrap my clothes in a bundle and hold them in front of me, wishing I could cover up the wounds.

There's a wall set up in front of us. Buckets are set up along it. Ambry lays her clothes on the ground and I do the same. She stands in front of the wall and reaches her hand into a bucket. She rubs the water over her skin.

I stare into mine. "Isn't there any soap?"

"What are you? A princess? Just be glad we get water."

I reach down and hear Ambry's sharp intake of breath.

"What did you do?" she asks.

I close my eyes, running my hand down my arm, the water tickling me. I wish I could crawl under a rock, that way no one can see my back to question it. "I disobeyed."

After exiting the bathing area we are handed an old, worn towel. As I'm wringing my hair out I ask, "Does any of the royal family make appearances? Like to interrogate prisoners? Do you ever see them?"

"Occasionally. They like to pick servants out from among us. We're free labor." She smirks at me. "Are you hoping to catch a glimpse of Prince Every?"

That beast? "No." I laugh, trying to make it sound girlish. "I was just curious."

******

Footsteps wake me up. 

I rub my eyes. I think I've been here a week and a half. The only way I know when it's a different day is by when we get fed in our cells or when we're taken outside. But we aren't taken outside at the same time each day.

"You're the one," a man's voice almost growls. I open my eyes in time to see a solider grab hold of me and hoist me to my feet. "You're the murderess." That's what they think I am—a murderer. He shoves me against the bars of blue light.

I clench my teeth. "And this is doing what exactly?"

He punches me in the stomach and I buckle over. I'm about to launch myself at him when Ambry moves toward us.

"Leave her alone—"

The soldier's hand flies across her cheek, sending her to the ground. I connect my fist with his face, and he stumbles back. He stares at me not expecting that much force. To be honest neither was I. We aren't exactly fed a lot here.

He raises his fist but I punch him again. This time in the chest.

"Is this how you killed them?" He grabs hold of my shoulders and forces me back. He leans forward. "Did you enjoy it—taking a life?"

I tilt my head to the side and lean forward, narrowing my eyes. "Get. Off. Of. Me."

"Mmhmm. . . I wonder if your victims said the same thing."

I latch my hands around his arms and try to push his arms off me. He holds on tighter.

"If you're going to kill me, go ahead and do it. But I'm warning you"-- I tilt my head up to look him right in the eyes-- "my death won't come as easily as you think."

"I think you'll be easy."

"Bingley," a soldier snaps, walking into the cell.  "What are you doing?" 

"Dealing out justice."

"That's not your job." The new man pulls Bingley away from me. "Is that understood?"

"But she murdered our soldiers."

"And she's in prison. You know women do not get the death penalty."

Bingley glares at me as the new man directs him out. "One day, you'll pay. . . properly."

*****

I hesitantly touch my face to feel how it's healing. The wounds don't hurt as much anymore even without the medicine. I've lost count of how long I've been here. For the most part the guards leave us alone. I'm the recipient of a lot of death glares though. I hear the door at the top of the stairs creak, and the sound of footsteps pounding down the steps. I look up and my eyes widen. Prince Every is paying us prisoners a visit. Pulling my hair out from behind my ear, I turn my head away. If he discovers who I am, he'll try holding me for ransom, and then when no one pays that ransom I'll be killed.

"Your Highness," I hear a man say, "how can we be of assistance?"

"I'm looking for suitable servants."

"Of course. If you would follow me, I'll show you those I believe to be what you are looking for."

Iron clanks open and shut multiple times, and I hear Every reject every one.

"This is the final cell, Your Highness."

I stiffen at how close the voice is. My cell door opens, and I hear footsteps walk inside. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ambry hoisted up.

"How about this one?" the soldier asks. "Her siblings are already serving in the palace."

"Already serving? No, she won't do. Her being in here gives her siblings a reason to continue working. Is there anyone else?" There's a pause. "What about this one?"

Arms wrap around me, and I'm pulled to my feet. I keep my face turned away.

"Are you shy?" Every asks softly. "You can look at me."

"I'd rather not," I snap.

"You've got a temper, don't you?" His fingers touch my chin and turn my face to meet his green eyes. His brown hair is shorter than I remember it. Last time I saw him I was taller. He's now passed me by almost a foot, and he's only two months older. "You look familiar."

I've never been so thankful for these wounds. "Does the prince often cast his eyes upon street rats?"

He smiles. The little beast actually turned out handsome. Not anything compared to Nate. . . What am I thinking? "I think you would be good in the kitchens. You may learn a little prudence there. What's your name?"

"Sana."

"Well, Sana, I hope your cooking is tasteful."

Do I tell him, I've never cooked a proper dish of food?

"Get her cleaned up."

He and the man leave, the light bars rising back in place. I sink to the floor. I was almost discovered. I'm sure if I was dressed up he would have known who I was, but he's not exactly expecting to find me as his prisoner or with a face that's mauled by wounds.