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And, so, Wren did, thoroughly discomfited by the boy’s ominous statement and the knowledge of what had been thrown into the liquid darkness that contained something clearly unknown and dangerous. Then, before her very eyes, the water began to froth and bubble, as if it was a boiling pot upon a fire. But the water was not heating up: it was being churned up by something.

A school of little fish.

It took Wren a few seconds to discern the shape of them, but when she did, she backed away instinctively, though she was several feet away from the water to begin with. The fish were small, but they had huge, incredibly sharp teeth and made quick work of the former prisoner who had been thrown in the water for them to consume. It took barely a minute for them to eat everything, the sound of their jaws snapping in disappointment echoing all throughout the dungeon when it became clear there was no more food to be had.

And then the fish dissipated, swimming back deeper into the water until Wren could no longer see them. The water grew still once more.

Out of sight,but not out of mind.

She was sincerely glad she had not touched the water once over the past three days. She had no doubt the fish had an incredibly keen sense of smell and movement. One stray slip into the water, and Wren might not make it back out alive.

Wren’s head was left full of snapping jaws, prisoners turned into chum, and the faces of those she had lost, as she wondered how many days she was supposed to put up with the torment she had found herself in. Surely, the High King had no use of her stuck in here forever?She lowered herself to the left rear corner of the cell and leaned her head against the wall, eyelids heavy. Perhaps the king thought to break her? He would not be successful. She closed her eyes. Tomorrow, she’d begin training again. It was time to stop playing the prey and become the predator.

* * *

When she awoke,she was not sure why.

Exhaustion plagued her and the aches in her bones complained as she shifted on the hard stone, ready to go back to sleep. She could not have been asleep for longer than a couple of hours. Her eyelids closed, but something kept her from falling back asleep.

Something was wrong.

She opened her eyes and froze as realization dawned.

Water lapped at her ankles.

Wren jerked to her feet in an instant, looking down at the water that was filling her cell. It rose with the tide every day, but this was the highest it had been. Even now, as she watched it, the water climbed farther and farther inside, until after a minute, it was around her calves. Her mind flashed back to the man-eating fish. She needed to get out of the waternow.

“What do we do?” she called to the bard.

“Climb, climb, climb!”

She glanced in his direction. It was almost completely impossible to see him in the darkness of deep night, but she tracked the sound of his movements and realized he was higher up than her.

“High, up high, as if it were the sky,” the boy sang at her, his shadow clinging to the metal grate of the cell walls. “Fish do not fly, do they? That would be a sight to see!”

Wren did not need to hear the riddle twice. Without another thought, she scrambled up the bars on her left, climbing up and up until she was out of the water. But it wasn’t high enough; in five minutes the water reached her toes, so she climbed even higher.

“Do they mean for us to die?” she fired at the boy. “What is this madness?”

“I’d make a good corpse if I am dead,” was all the boy said, in lieu of a real answer.

He had been through this before and he was still alive. But not completely sane. Had night after night like this driven him into madness?

She could believe it.

Already, her muscles were beginning to ache with the effort of clinging to the bars. There was nowhere for her to lean her weight against, so the only thing that was keeping her out of the water was pure strength. Which wasn’t great, considering the terrible, insubstantial meals the guards had been feeding her, and the previous injuries she had sustained in battle.

Yet, clinging onto the bars was all Wren could do. If she fell into the water, she would be dead.

“How long does it last?” she barked. Silence. “How long does this last?” she demanded louder. Silence answered her once more. The little rascal chose now to be quiet?

Wren glared in his direction, listening to the silence. Well, not complete silence. Her eyes rounded. The blasted boy was snoring. She couldn’t believe it. How the devil was he sleeping?

“You’re mad,” she grumbled.

After what felt like forever but could, in fact, have been mere minutes—time passed as slow as a glacier—Wren’s eyes began to grow heavy, and she jolted herself awake several times. Panic and sheer adrenaline were the only things stopping her from falling to her doom. But it was getting harder and harder to keep herself up, and, with every passing minute, she felt her fingers and her toes and her knees trying to give way. The metal bit into her fingers and toes, cutting off the blood circulation.

You’re going to fall.