The hours dragged by and the only happening that marked the passage of time was the sun's light moving across the room through the tiny window. Once in a while the guard—probably Marvin—would walk around the corner. Anya wondered why he bothered. She had no way of escaping. If she had access to her magic she might have a chance, but not as she now was.

The magic inhibitor was a terrible thing. It made her feel disconnected from herself. She still could feel her magic inside of her, but it was almost as if it was lying just out of reach. It was a frustrating feeling. She wondered with a sick feeling if that was what if felt like for Lord Wildwood when she was stripping his magic.

With the inhibitor, even her body felt as if it was not quite right. While she could move her arms and legs, everything felt wooden and odd. Unfortunately, Anya's mind remained active and sharp apparently unaffected by the inhibition. Anya spent a long time agonizing over everything that had happened and everything that might happen in the future.

Anya spent a lot of time lying on the cot, or pacing around the room, forcing her oddly disconnected limbs to move. She still wore the clothes from what might have been that morning and they were not overly filthy yet.

The monotony of the day was broken only once by the unbelievable discovery that her remaining potions were still tied to her arm. They were not easily visible, but it was shocking that her captors had overlooked such an important detail.

Anya's mind immediately began to race. The unused ignition potion would not be of much help to her here because it would have little to no effect on the cold stone and hard iron bars, nor would the untested potion of flying. However, if she was allowed access to an area with larger open windows, even high up, she might find an opportunity to escape.

It was a small hope, but Anya grasped on to it desperately. Surely now that Anya had been discovered, if she somehow escaped, Thorne would let her and the twins depart. She could not be useful to him any longer.

Or she could pretend to agree to do another task for Thorne if she had to and then somehow find her way to the twins. She really had tried to complete what he had desired of her. It was not her fault that she failed.

A familiar woman's voice from just out of sight broke into Anya's thoughts. "I don't want to talk to her." It was Ildri.

"You don't have to talk to her and I'm not getting up just to take it in to her.  You do it," responded the heavy male voice.

"If I go in there, she might hurt me. She's a witch." Anya felt a sharp twinge at the words.

"Don't be ridiculous. She can't use her magic right now."

"Fine." Ildri sounded sulky. Anya watched as she came around the corner.

Ildri wore an unpleasant scowl on her face. Anya supposed that it was a natural expression for dealing with a traitor like herself.

"Here's your lunch," Ildri said.

"Thank you," Anya said in the most gracious voice she could imagine.

"I can't believe that you did that." Ildri glared at Anya.

"I'm sorry."

Ildri shoved the tray under the bars. "Everything was a plot, wasn't it? Everything you did was to get closer to Lord Wildwood. It was all an act."

"I'm sorry." Anya did not know what else she could say. Nothing would make her actions better. It had not all been plotting and scheming, but Ildri would never believe her. None of them would.

Ildri turned and walked away, her footsteps clipped and angry. Anya felt empty. It was not as if she had not known what it would be like if she were caught, but knowing did not make the reality any easier.

Anya ignored the food and paced around the small area. She had no appetite. She did not know how she could bear to stay in this space so long. But at least she was at Wildwood.

If they moved her to the capital, she would likely be kept in the king's jail. The rumors that she had heard of that place sent shivers down Anya's spine.

The noise of a door banging shut loudly at a distance drew Anya's attention away from her dark thoughts. Was she getting another visitor?

"My lady? What are you doing down here?" the guard asked.

"I have business. Come, open the door for me."

Anya's heart sunk. There was almost no one she wanted to speak with less than Lady Theresa. It was going to be unpleasant.

Anya considering lying down on the bed and feigning sleep, but it would at best only delay the inevitable. So she sat down and waited.

Lady Theresa came around the corner, along with a different guard. The lady was glowering, and Anya swallowed past the lump in her throat.

"Open the door," Lady Theresa commanded when the guard hesitated. He quickly did her bidding.

"Anya."

"My lady," Anya said, nervous prickles running over her skin.

"What did you do to Jim?" she asked.

"I hit him with a paralyzation potion. He's frozen."

"Frozen? He's not cold." But Lady Theresa's voice was.

"Not exactly..."

"How will we cure him? Sir Thomas has tried everything that he can think of and nothing affects him." Lady Theresa glowered at Anya. Anya looked away.

"He'll come back to normal on his own. Several days, a week at most."

"How fortunate for you. He is a good friend and has helped us greatly in the past. We will ensure that justice will be done if that is not the case," Lady Theresa said.

Anya shook her head. "I wouldn't kill Jim."

"Just my husband."

"I'm sorry."

"That's not good enough, Anya. I want to know why you did this."

Anya shook her head sadly. "I'm sorry."

"No. If you were sorry, if you actually felt repentance, you would tell us everything! I'm—we're certain that you were not acting alone. Having you contained does nothing if your accomplice is still on the loose. Tell us who you're working for or with and tell us why you tried to kill Lord Wildwood!" Lady Theresa's eyes blazed her anger.

Anya hung her head. She wished that she could explain everything. She wished that she could help them capture Thorne and stop his plotting. "I'm sorry. I wish that things were different."

Lady Theresa cocked her head and her expression was completely unimpressed. Anya felt dejected. Anya knew that she did not deserve to be believed, but it felt terrible nevertheless.

"Is my wife down here?" came another voice around the corner.

Anya cringed at the voice of the newcomer.

"She is, my lord."

Lady Theresa looked towards the door. Her expression changed to one of worry and she muttered under her breath. "What is he doing up?"

"Would you please bring my wife out for me?" Lord Wildwood asked in a calm tone.

"Yes, my lord."

The guard came around the corner. Lady Theresa looked visibly annoyed.

"Yes?" she asked.

"Lord Wildwood wishes to speak with you, my lady," he explained in a cautious tone, clearly not at all comfortable with the situation that he was in the middle of.

Lady Theresa looked as if she would snap at the guard and then she nodded. "I will speak with him."

The guard swung the door open for her. Anya watched her walk out and winced as the guard slammed her cage shut.

Lady Theresa marched around the corner. "Why are you down here? You should be in bed, resting!" she said before her husband had even a chance to speak.

The guard glanced around. He seemed to be debating whether he should remain where he was.

"I could ask you the same question."

"I'm not the one who nearly died. Again!"

Finally the guard seemed to make up his mind and he nervously walked back around the corner and out of Anya's sight.

"Thank you," said Lord Wildwood. "You can take a short break."

"Thank you, my lord," said the guard gratefully. Anya heard the heavy door swing shut behind him.

"You should be resting!" Lady Theresa repeated stubbornly.

"You should not be down here. Sir Thomas can handle it," Lord Wildwood said firmly.

Lady Theresa made a very unladylike noise of derision. "She told him nothing."

"Did she tell you anything?"

"No. But perhaps that is because you interrupted me. And stop turning the subject. You, once again, almost died. You've got less business being down here than I do," Lady Theresa repeated. "You need to recover so that you can protect yourself when someone tries again!"

Lord Wildwood spoke evenly, obviously trying to pacify his wife. "I'm fine."

"You look pale," she accused.

"Near death can do that to a man," he returned.

"Exactly my point. Now get back upstairs and rest," she demanded.

"Why don't you come with me?" he suggested innocently. Anya wished that they would go argue somewhere else. She did not want to have to hear them talking. Not about her, or about anything.

Lady Theresa exhaled loudly. "I'm not falling for that. I wish to interrogate her and find out everything. What if this is connected to...?"

"If it is, we'll find out. But you shouldn't be down here."

"Stop worrying about me. I'm not the one who people are always trying to kill. Do you know how worried I am? How many times have I almost lost you?" The lady's anxious tone of voice made Anya feel even worse about everything she had done. And everything that her brother had done.

"I know exactly how you feel, Theresa. How many times have you tried to run away?"

"That's hardly the same thing. And I'm hardly running now."

"True enough. You're captivated by me," he said in a teasing voice.

Anya debated covering her ears.

"I suppose that's true. I quite like strutting peacocks," Lady Theresa said, but her voice was softer. They both laughed lightly. Anya felt horribly uncomfortable, trapped into listening to their conversation. They seemed to have completely forgotten that she was there.

"Please go back up. It's not only you I'm worried about," Lord Wildwood cajoled. "I'll just wait here until Samson returns."

"You're going to blackmail me with that for the next nine months, aren't you?" Lady Theresa asked in a cross voice.

"I'd do it forever if I thought that it would work."

"Fine. I'll go up. But you wait right here. You are not to put yourself in danger, Wildwood," she commanded.

"Yes, dear."

Anya heard the far off door open and close. She and Wildwood were utterly alone. He thought that she was defenseless. She felt her arm and the small vial was still there. If she threw it into the other room, there was a high chance that Lord Wildwood would be incinerated. If he was dead, surely Thorne would be satisfied. Surely he would release the twins. If she killed Lord Wildwood, everyone would be certain that she had done it, and she would undoubtedly be executed.

If she was not already in line for the executioner already.

But surely Thorne would keep his word. Wouldn't he?

Anya took a deep breath. This chance might never be afforded to her again. Her chance of success was quite high. She might be caught in the blaze as well, but what did that matter? If she was caught in her own fire, or if they executed her, well, would that not be better than a life as a prisoner? Anya was not sure.

But would the twins be okay? Would they find a way to survive in the world alone? Even in the hands of Thorne they were at least being fed, surely. They were at least somewhat protected since he needed them alive to hold them over her.

And what about Lady Theresa? And the child that she was almost certainly carrying? The child would grow up without a father, and it would be entirely Anya's fault. And Thorne's fault. The man was a disease that spread misery to all he touched.

Why should anyone else suffer for Thorne's ambitions?

Then Wildwood walked around the corner. He stood outside the bars, in easy reach. She could throw the small vial at his feet and he would ignite. Anya would probably die too, from inhaling smoke if not from the flames. She would likely not have to be around to deal with the repercussions of her actions. All her problems would be gone.

"Miss Smyth. I'd like to speak with you for a moment," he said.

"My lord," she said, unable to refuse. Her mind whirled frantically between the possibilities. She could kill him so easily, but she did not want to. But it might be her last chance.

"You've created quite the controversy. I don't believe my staff have ever had so much to talk about in my lifetime." Anya was amazed at his tone. He did not sound angry at her at all. It was unbelievable. She had tried to kill him. She deserved his ire above all.

He continued speaking. "Everyone has an opinion on what exactly you did and exactly why you did it. Only you know the complete truth. But I have a suspicion. Let me share it with you."

Anya nodded lamely. Nothing he was saying was what she expected.

"I don't believe that you have any desire to hurt me, or anyone in particular. I believe that someone somewhere is forcing you to do this. I don't know what they are holding over you to make you do these things, nor do I know for certain why, but I strongly suspect that if left to your own devises you would not kill anyone."

Anya chocked back a betraying sob. If she let him know how close he was to the truth, Thorne would find out. If he was not having her magically observed, he had a spy in the castle. Damani and Kallie would pay the price. But Lord Wildwood's understanding made her want to break down and weep out the truth for anyone to hear. She was so tired of being alone.

"Even your earlier attempts were half hearted at best. Why did you not simply rip out my magic when you had the element of surprise? I see clearly you could have killed me easily."

Anya did not answer.

"You'll have to forgive my assumptions, but while you were stealing my magic, I could feel what you were feeling. Regret, anger, surprise, satisfaction? You were conflicted at first, but then you enjoyed it greatly.  The power felt good, didn't it?"

Shame rushed through her at his words. The fact that he understood almost made it worse.

"Yet, I have just one question for you."

"Yes?" Anya asked, dreading his next words.

"Did you contemplate killing my wife? With my own magic?"

Anya could not bring herself to deny it. "Yes."

"But you hesitated."

"Yes." Anya hugged her arms around her chest. He knew far more than he should. If Thorne found out...

"Thank you for not hurting her."

Anya turned her face away and clenched her fists. She felt like crying, but not in front of anyone.

At the sound of the door opening in the other room Lord Wildwood turned. Without another word, he left the immediate area of Anya's confinement.

"I'm sorry," Anya said to his retreating back. She did not know if he heard her.

"Thank you, Samson," Lord Wildwood said as he left the dungeon.

Anya lay down on her side with her back to the door. She could feel tears falling down her cheek and made no effort to stop them. After what felt like a really long time Anya finally fell asleep.