Closing my eyes, I breathe in through my nose and exhale slowly before continuing with a quieter, calmer tone. “Whether I planned it or not, I’m here now, and if we don’t get ourselves out of this, we will die. So, I suggest we learn what we can about this place and the noctis residing here as quickly as we can, so that wecanform a viable plan.”
With a long, impatient sigh, Elison returns to cleaning her fingernails. “What is it we need to know?”
Before admitting it out loud that I don’t actually know, I take a look around the place first. From our cell at the end of the block, it’s difficult to see all the way down the corridor to count how many humans they’ve got stashed here, but we were dragged past them when we arrived, and from my memory, I’d estimate that there are at least fifty people down here with us.
Beyond that? My knowledge of this place is extremely limited.
“Anything,” I say at last. “Everything we can learn. Like where all of these people came from. How long they’ve been here. What they were doing when they were captured.”
Bitterness puckers my tongue as I remember my own actions that led me here. If we survive this, I’m still not sure I’ll ever let myself live down my own stupidity for falling for the oldest trick in the book.
“I can see if any of them remember the path we were dragged down here,” she suggests.
But I’m barely listening. A memory has directed my attention back to the mystery woman in the cell diagonal to ours.
“What’s her deal?” I ask, the jerk of my chin pointing to where the lonely woman sits in the middle of her cell, her back turned to the rest of us. “She’s the reason I’m here, you know? She was calling for help in the street and foolishly I came to her aid.”
“You, of all people, fell for that?” Elison snorts, her attention never once peeling away from her fingernails and the grime she’s cleaning from under them. “That was foolish, especially for you.”
“That’s what I said.” There’s a bite of irritation on my tongue that I can’t stifle.
But Elison doesn’t react. She just laughs, a short and airy sound that feels too bright for this dark place. “Well, I guess we all make mistakes.”
I bite back the urge to argue with her. Mistakes are for the weak and for those who don’t value their lives. This mistake was avoidable. I shouldn’t be here.
“It’s funny you should ask about her,” she continues. “You won’t believe this because I had a hard time believing it myself when I first heard the guards and the prince talking about her. But apparently, that’s Fox Devonshire. She’s the former Magistrate’s wife.”
I nearly choke on my words. “His wife? But wouldn’t that make her—”
“The prince’s aunt? His own family? I think it does. But she’s not a noctis, so I guess that makes her relationship with the Devonshires inconsequential.”
“My gods…”
My eyes bulge at the thought. My family was taken from me when I was still young enough that many of my memories of them have faded, but I still remember the love and loyalty for which we had for each other. I can’t even fathom what it would be like to have them turn on me.
Then again, thanks to Rowland, I’ve recently discovered the sting of betrayal. I imagine her predicament might feel similar, having the people you trust obliterate that allegiance, that relationship.
Looking at her now, her misery is beginning to make sense.
“What happened to her?” I ask. “Why is she here? And why is she…missing so many fingers?”
Elison shrugs. “Apparently it’s what happens every time she tries breaking out of this place.” When she finishes cleaning her second hand, she leans back against the cold wall. “You know she used to be a thief. At least that’s what all the legends about her say. She had a good sleight of hand. She was exceptional with lockpicks. That sort of stuff.”
I’d almost forgotten that part of our history lessons. Most of the stories regarding the abolishment of the mages and demon-kind revolved around Halira and Ryven, the druid heroes of Arcathain. But there are few that detail the Magistrate Alphonse’s contributions to our nation’s victory—if you can call it that—as well as some recordings of the assistances made by his then soon-to-be wife, Foxlynn Abigail.
Hers was a true rags-to-riches story. A homeless orphan who was left with no choice but to join the Shadow Crusade, only instead of joining the ranks, she met her true love when General Alphonse Reid Graham started her training.
“So, tell me, Charlotte,” Elison continues, glancing at me from the corner of her eyes. “If someone as skilled as her can’t break out of here, how do you propose the two of us can? Mind you, I’d like to keep my fingers, preferably.”
“And you will,” I say, my attention drifting over to Fox.
I swear she’s perked up since we began talking about her, even though I know we’re being too quiet for her to hear us from this distance.
If she could hear our plotting, maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. The secrets she could tell us about this place…
I file that possibility away for now, still unwilling to trust her farther than I can throw her. She was, after all, working with the noctis. Maybe she still is. Maybe she’s down here to spy on us all and report what she sees and hear.
Until I know her motives, it would be best to keep her in the dark.
