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He laughed. He laughed so hard the rat he’d stolen dropped to the floor; he clutched his stomach, rolling his head back with laughter.

“Free?” he said between laughs. “You, free? That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in years.”

“Fifteen years. That’s my sentence. I’ve served twelve already.” My words were clipped, quick arrows trying to cut through his laughter.

They bounced off Nelson’s chuckles uselessly. If anything, they made him laugh harder and harder, until he coughed, and his spit flew at me.

Choke, I thought. I pictured it, wrapping my hands around his neck the way I did the rats. Pictured myself twisting.

“You’re too funny. Youreallythink they’ll let you walk out of here? Caria’s tits, that’s a good one. I’ll have to tellRobbie. You’re so simple, Sam.” He loved the sound of his voice dearly. “There’s noend.”

“There is,” I protested. “Three more years.”Just three more, and I could leave these dark, scream-filled halls behind and join the Monastery.

He smirked. “Who d’you suppose is keeping count? Anyone who knew you has forgotten you exist. No one is going to come get you. Think, Sammy.”

My normal revulsion to his assigned nickname was drowned out by the roar in my ears as the implication hit me.

Forgotten by everyone.

“Someone has to sign off on your release. And that someone is me. Your sentence isdonewhen I write to the king andsayit’s done.”

My gut twisted. Technically, Nelson wasn’t a prisoner like the rest of us. He was a noble, and while in high society he would’ve been as valuable as a gutter rat, here he had absolute power.

He grinned at my obvious distress. “Who knows? In another ten, twenty years, Sammy, we could be friends, and you’ll talk me into letting the royals know your sentence is finished. But mark my words, you will never leave without my blessing, and you’re nowhere close to earning it.”

Acid boiled in my stomach, a mix of fury and nausea.

“You can’t do that,” I protested, even though reality was forcing the walls to close in on all sides. Because yes, he could.

My future hinged on Nelson’s charity.

I was doomed.

“And who would stop me?” He shrugged, as if it was just a fact of life. “Besides, you’re better off in here than out there. Even if ol’ King Stormblood himself came down to pardon a gutter rat like you, do you know what kind of life you’d have? No one would hire a filthy thing like you. Even the brothels wouldn’t take you, except to have something cheap on the menu. When they used you up, you’d be on the streets. See how much you make begging with your ugly face.”

Nelson laughed again, then turned, collecting the rat once more.

This time, I didn’t say anything.

His words played on a loop over and over. Twelve years I’d been here. I’d be here ten more. Twenty. Forever, if it was truly up to Nelson. Until either he grew so tired of me he killed me.

Or I killed myself to make it end.

I bent into a corner of the hall and heaved, vomiting up what bit of precious food my stomach had held. The smell, foul as it was, actually drew the rats forward. I killed them with only half a mind, still turning over Nelson’s speech. Even as I killed their brethren, they came forward. They were starving, and any chance of food, at survival, however disgusting, was worth it to them.

Did they know they were doomed?

One came slower, dragging a trap half caught on its neck, squealing, squealing. I snapped its neck. Put it out of its misery.

I collected the last of them and brought them to Cook.

Nelson left me alone. Apparently, he’d had his fill of tormenting me today.

But there would be tomorrow.

And the day after. And the one after that.

He’s lying. He has to be.I nearly vomited again in the sink, but there was nothing in me but the barest bit of water. The acidic taste clawed my throat while I forced myself to swallow it down. Now was not the time to show weakness.