Fear flickered in my gut, but it was quickly smothered by a burning resentment.
They had not brought me here for a trial. They wanted to make a lesson of me, to peel back my skin and show the world what happened to a mortal who chose the shadows over their brittle, golden lies.
I searched for the spirits, but the silver at my wrists acted like a void, swallowing every trace of shadow before it could even reach my fingertips.
“She is awake,” the guard closest to the bars barked.
The man beside him peeked over his shoulder, his lip curling in a sneer that did not quite hide the flicker of unease in his eyes. “Filthy traitor.”
I forced my head up, the effort making the room tilt. I dragged in a shuddering breath, my lungs burning with the wet air of the underground. I could not find the words to curse them—my tongue was too thick, my throat too dry—but I could show them the fire they were so desperate to douse.
I pinned my glare on the sneering guard and spat.
The glob landed square on his cheek and trailed slowly down his chin. A wicked satisfaction bloomed in my chest as the guard’s face turned a mottled red.
He growled, wiping the saliva away with a gloved hand before striding toward the bars with a stomp.
“You deserve a slow death,” he snarled, his face inches from mine, the smell of sour wine and sweat rolling off him. “And I will personally ensure you receive it. By the time the council is done with you, you will be begging for the edge of a blade.”
His words blurred together, a mix between not caring and not being able to resist the sedative.
My eyes fell closed, and I drifted to sleep with my head slumped against the too-cold concrete.
* * *
I sat up slowly, the movement no longer feeling as though I were about to collapse in exhaustion. The heavy fog of the sedative was finally receding, leaving behind a stinging clarity.
I shifted against the wall, my gaze drifting over the strange architecture of the cell.
To my right, the wall was a massive slab of seamless concrete. At first glance it appeared solid, unbroken from floor to ceiling. But as I leaned back, something caught my eye.
The slab did not quite meet the rear wall.
A narrow gap remained where the two surfaces failed to touch, no wider than a few inches. Just enough space for a faint breeze to whisper through.
And just enough space to see beyond it.
I pressed my face toward the opening. I did not see any stones or shadows at first, and shuffled closer to lean further into the gap.
My eyes widened when they caught sight of the heel of a foot resting in the dirt. It was wrapped in a threadbare sock blackened with grime, the fabric sagging around a skeletal ankle. Above it stretched a thin, wasted calf streaked with layers of dust.
For a moment, I panicked, unsure if this person was alive or just hanging onto life. But, I swallowed down the twitch of fear and tried to grab their attention.
“Hello?” I whispered.
I darted a look toward the bars. The High Court guards were deep in a low conversation, their silver helms tilted toward one another as they traded murmurs.
I looked back to the gap, but the foot had not moved. It remained still.
Searching the floor of my cell, my fingers closed around a loose pebble. I weighed it once in my palm, then flicked it through the opening.
The stone arced through the air and struck the shin with a soft crack.
A choked gasp echoed from the other side.
The leg jerked back, disappearing into the shadows. A moment later, a face appeared in the narrow slit.
I recoiled at first, my stomach turning at the sight of him.