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A trembling sob rips from my throat. I grab his shoulders and haul him against my chest, holding tight.

Silvius still hasn’t returned.

His aklo tells us he’s aware of what happened; to forgive him for not making it back tonight; to be assured that, no matter what happens, Akilah’s life will be spared.

I clutch my soldad, pleading with the heavens these words are true.

“Please... can I see her?”

He hesitates and turns to River. “Use the pass your master gave you.”

“They took it.”

Aklo frowns; he pulls a blue and gold beaded chain off his belt and passes it over. “I must return. Be careful.”

As we approach the prison gates, two guards scrutinise the bead-pass, their frowns deepening with suspicion. They share a silent conversation and then hand it back to River with a curt nod. They seal us from using magic, and we’re ushered down a cold, lantern-lit tunnel.

I move quickly along the passageway, one hand trailing the stone and mud walls, the other clutching a kerchief of Akilah’s favourite cakes. More guards are huddled around a table between two rows of cells, playing dice. Behind sturdy wooden bars, some watch while others are curled over flickering candles. A man is wearing Akilah’s cloak, and Akilah—

Akilah is slumped against the far wall. I take River’s pass and emerge from the narrow passageway, brandishing it before the guards. “I wish to speak to a prisoner.”

They pause, blink a few times, and continue their play. One man grunts to make it quick. I scurry over to the cell, River at my heels. “Ilios,” I call. “Ilios.”

Akilah stirs, her swollen eye struggling to open. For a moment, confusion clouds her expression, but then she recognises us, albeit with some uncertainty. “Cae—Calix?” she whispers, voice weak.

I reach between the bars and she shuffles until she can grasp my fingers. “I’m so sorry,” I croak.

She makes it to the bars and sags against them. There’s an infected cut on her cheekbone. It needs tending, but she forces herself to smile through the pain. She pats both our arms.

River sobs. “I sh-shouldn’t have—”

“You’re barely fourteen. A child. I’m the best choice.”

It shouldn’t be about choice. If I had been more diligent...

Ippifras.I made this mistake.

“I believe in your magic,” she says.

I shake my head violently and clutch her arm, dropping the kerchief of cakes. “Silvius is helping us. He’ll find a way. You—you shouldn’t be here, in this— Guards! Guards,” I swivel on my knees towards the redcloaks, “move him to another cell.”

They look at me, dice clunking to a stop in the cup mid-shake, then laugh. They throw the dice.

She’s a woman. She shouldn’t be in a cell with them...

I crawl closer to the guards. “Youmustmove him.”

They stop again, swinging narrowed eyes to me.

One rises from his chair, balling magic in his hands.

“You misunderstand,” I say swiftly. “Not forhissake—for your own.”

The leader sets down his cup. “What do you mean?”

“The swelling of his face,” I say, thinking fast. “It’s a sign of infectious disease.”

“So?” he growls.