He crouched down next to me in the straw, carefully laying out his instruments. “I’ll have some food and water brought,” he said, though without any pity or compassion. “And a change of clothes, if you’d like them.”

I didn’t say anything, just remained tucked into my corner. I was too weak to fight him off, and if I was going to escape, I needed to save my strength.

“I wasn’t able to learn anything useful yesterday, unfortunately, but I think fresh blood will help. I’ll be making a trip to Varenia myself soon, to collect some of the coral. I thought I might check in on your sister while I’m there. Just to see how she’s doing in your absence.”

My muscles tensed at his words. “If you touch her—”

He removed the silver knife from his satchel. “Yes?”

I contemplated begging, offering him anything he wanted in exchange for my sister’s safety. But what did I have to offer that he couldn’t freely take here? The guards certainly wouldn’t protect me.

When he reached for my arm, I didn’t struggle. I had healed yesterday, and I would heal again today, though I wondered how long I could last like this. I needed to strike when I had some kind of advantage; otherwise the guards would catch me, even if I did manage to kill Ceren. But I couldn’t afford to wait too long. At some point, I may not have enough strength to recover.

He took less blood this time, but I was too weak to stand by the time he was finished. He lowered me back onto the straw with the same gentleness he’d shown yesterday. “I’ll have the guards bring you some beef liver stew.”

He chuckled when I cringed despite my weakness. “And some bread, if you like.” He stroked my hair, which had come unraveled during the night, as my head swam with dizziness.

At first, when I heard the familiar opening notes to the song Ebb sometimes sang to herself, I thought I must be dreaming. I opened my eyes and looked up at Ceren. He was singing to me, in the same surprisingly beautiful voice I’d heard that night by the underwater lake. Hot tears seeped out of the corners of my eyes and ran down my cheeks into the straw beneath me. I wanted to attack him now, when he was vulnerable, but I was too weak to reach my boot. Why hadn’t I done it when I had the chance? Lady Melina had warned me not to let another opportunity pass me by.

My Varenian morals were going to be the death of me.

When he was finished, Ceren leaned down, the strands of his hair brushing against my skin like feathers, and kissed me on the forehead.

* * *

Many bleedings followed, so many I lost count. I slept as much as I could, my dreams my only escape from the misery of the dungeon. I was dreaming of my sister when I startled awake at the sound of Lady Melina’s voice coming down the hall, followed by the angry grumblings of one of the guards. I had no idea how long I’d been down here—the only break in my days beside the bleedings was the single meal I was brought, and even though my stomach turned at the smell of it, I ate all of the liver stew I could. One day I would have an opportunity, I told myself, though it was starting to feel more and more like a lie.

“Take your hands off of me!” Melina said in her soft Varenian accent. I couldn’t see her, but I could envision her chin lifting in indignation as they manhandled her through the corridors.

“Get in there,” the guard grunted, and a moment later, I heard the clang of the metal door closing behind her. She wasn’t next to me, but she was close by. I could hear her muttering about the dirty straw and lack of ventilation.

The guard’s steps retreated back down the hallway, and for a moment I listened in silence, wondering what Melina could possibly have done to get herself thrown in the dungeon.

“Are you there, child?” she asked once the guard was out of earshot.

I sat up and scooted toward the door of my cell. “I’m here. What happened? Why have you been imprisoned?”

“I declared that Prince Talin was the legitimate heir to the throne, and Prince Ceren a murderer who had killed Queen Talia.”

My mouth fell open. “What? When?”

“Tonight at dinner.” To my surprise, Melina almost sounded amused. “It went about as well as you might expect.”

Gods. Now we were both trapped. “Why would you do such a thing?”

“It was the only way I could think to see you.”

I slumped back against the door. “You had yourself imprisoned for me?”

Her laugh was low and throaty. “Don’t flatter yourself, child. I did this for Varenia, not for you.”

“I don’t understand.”

She lowered her voice so that I had to strain to make out the words. “One of my spies told me about your healing abilities.”

I wanted to cry, but even that would require too much energy. “I’m so sorry. Now that Ceren knows about the blood coral, I’m afraid our people are in more danger than ever. And there’s no one left to warn them.”

“There’s a way out of the mountain even Ceren doesn’t know about,” she whispered. “And if you’re willing to trust me, I believe we can get you out of here.”

In my present state, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to escape even if the guards were to open the doors and personally escort me out of New Castle. “What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me, child.”

“Will he kill you?” I asked.

“Quiet!” the guard yelled as he passed our cells. “Prince Ceren said there should be no talking!”

But he hadn’t said anything about singing, apparently. That night, Melina wove me a strange song. I memorized the words until I heard them in my sleep, until they became my prayer.

Deep in the mountain,

Far below,

Beyond the lake,

Where the glowworms glow,

The path is clear,

To Varenian eyes,

Follow the blood,

To where freedom lies.

* * *

Finally, Ceren came for us, when I’d begun to think I might spend the rest of my life inside this prison.

I could hear the guards straightening and Lady Melina rustling in her straw at the sound of his voice. “Ready the women.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” one of the guards said. A moment later I heard Melina’s cell open, then a thud. “Get up, wretch, or I’ll kick you all the way to the gates.”

I heard heavy footsteps, and then the guard was at my door. I’d been offered fresh clothing on multiple occasions, but I had only changed twice, when I’d been given sufficient privacy to do so. I was beyond caring about modesty now, but I was afraid that if I removed my boots they’d see the knife, the map, and my pearl necklace. Fortunately, someone—I assumed it was Ebb—had made sure I was given clean riding pants and simple tunics to wear, not gowns that would have made it harder to conceal my contraband.