There is plenty else to study and learn about in the meantime, like how frequently the guards venture down here and when they rotate, what opportunities we have for stealing their keys, or other items that might be fashioned into lockpicks, how astute are they, and most importantly, what the layout of the castle is like.
First and foremost, however, I’d like to get to know our other cellmate.
The girl in the corner hasn’t moved or spoken in a full day, which both concerns and intrigues me. Someone like that has either been broken beyond repair, or she understands the way this place works and knows how to survive. I intend to find out which.
“Okay,” Elison replies, clearly losing her patience for my vague responses. “Then how?”
Without a word, I gesture toward the girl’s lowered head. Elison watches me with confusion as I stand from the bench and approach our cellmate.
“Hi,” I say awkwardly. “What’s your name?”
She flinches at the sound of my voice, curling deeper into herself like she can just shrink and shrink until there’s nothing of her left.
Under normal circumstances, I’d take the hint. But right now, I have nothing else to occupy my mind with. Sliding my back along the stone wall, I crouch beside her and take a seat.
“I just figured, since we’ll be stuck in here together, we might as well get to know each other a little.” My throat is dry, my conversational muscle woefully out of practice. I sound harsh and intimidating, even to my own ears, and I can’t blame her for the silence that falls between us.
And I startle when she breaks it.
“M-Mira,” she says hesitantly. “My name is Mira.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Mira. I’m Charlotte. That’s Elison—” Elison waves when I gesture toward her. “How long have you been here, Mira?”
The girl, who can’t be more than sixteen, pulls the weight of her hair over her shoulder and begins curling sections of it around her finger. “Mmm. I don’t know. A couple of weeks, I think. It’s hard to keep track of time down here.”
“I imagine it is.” Nodding, I pause, allowing time to pass so that hopefully the girl won’t feel like I’m interrogating her. Now that we’ve started talking though, she seems to warm up quickly; already her arms are unfolding from around herself. “Do they give you regular meals? You know, that’s one way we could keep track of the days.”
Her head shakes, her miserable eyes lowering. Her only response is a strangled sound, so I try a different approach.
“Have you eaten since you were brought here?”
“A few times.” She bites her lip. “I’m one of the lucky ones.”
“Lucky ones?” I glance to Elison but try not to appear too suspicious and uncaring. “How?”
She’s hesitant again, and it dawns on me that she was alone in here for quite some time before the two of us showed up. Maybe, like me, she’d been alone even longer.
Or worse, maybe she hadn’t.
“They—they have us on different diets. They’ll tell you yours soon.”
“Tell us ours?” Elison interjects, body shifting forward with sudden interest. “What does that even mean?”
Mira shrugs and, stroking her thick, almost-matted hair, glances nervously between the two of us. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s…troubling to hear. But I don’t think they want us to starve. You know, because they’re going to…” When her lip begins to quiver, she turns away again, retreating back into the silence that she’s held onto so strongly for the past day, if not longer.
There can be comfort in silence. This I know. But right now, I find none. It seems she finds none as well.
“Please, Mira,” I say, trying to spin my usually harsh voice into silken threads of gold. At best, I think I manage to make a slightly more malleable steel than what I usually wield. “Please tell us what they have you eating—”
The blacks of her pupils become as expansive as the dungeon.
“Oh, no! It’s nothing like…like what you’re thinking. They feed us normal food. Food fit for humans. Soup and bread, mostly. Sometimes an occasional vegetable. But we don’t all get to eat at the same time. I get three meals a day, but some of the others…” With a cautious glance around the cell block, Mira leans closer and lowers her voice. “They’re lucky to eat once a day. Some of them—mostly the men who look like they could pull a cart of hay without needing an ox to help—they’re only given a meal every couple of days.”
The worrying information hits me like a deep-sea wave might collide with a ship full of drunken sailors. My head lolls back, and for a moment, I feel my world swaying all around me. The noctis already have the upper hand. Mankind is already half-starved and weak. And they want to take away any advantage we might have once we’re in the Hunt. They want us as weak as we can be just to ensure that their kind can kill us.
It’s no wonder no one has ever escaped.
“I think the noctis want to keep us weak,” Mira continues in her hushed tone, and I realize I was right about her. She’s been watching, listening, learning. She might prove a great asset. “Since some of us have already done a good job of making ourselves feeble, we’re not a threat. Or at least, I think that’s why some of us get to eat more.”
