Page 12 of Quicksilver

“Oooh, lucky me. I'm honored.”

The Captain pouted, nodding. “You should be. Do you know how many people Queen Madra deigns to see in person these days?”

“Not many? I can't imagine she has that many friends.”

Harron rubbed the pad of his thumb over the pommel of his sword. “Leave the sharp tongue at the door when we exit this cell. It won't serve you well where I'm taking you.”

“You might be surprised, Captain. Most people think I'm pretty funny.”

“Madra's sense of humor runs a little darker than evenyou'reused to, Saeris Fane. You don't want to provoke her into using you for sport. But by all means, do as you wish. These areyourlast hours in the Silver City.” He shrugged. “Are you ready to meet your Queen?”

“Ready as I'll ever be.” It was a relief to hear that my voice didn't shake. My insides were a quivering, knotted mess as Harron took me by the arm and guided me through the lower levels of the palace, though. I breathed in through my nose andout through my nose, the pull and push of air level and drawn out, but the normally steadying technique did nothing to quiet my nerves.

Twenty-four years.

That's all the time I'd been given in this cursed existence.

Despite how hard, and miserable, and hot, and frustrating it had all proven to be, I’d bizarrely hoped for more of it.

We hiked up endless staircases, Harron prodding me in the small of my back when I stumbled or tripped on a step. Once we were above ground, the palace proper sprawled out before us, all vaulted ceilings, arched alcoves, and disturbingly lifelike paintings depicting the dour faces of men and women whom I presumed were Madra's predecessors. I'd never seen anything so grandiose before, but my head was swimming, black spots dancing in my vision, and I couldn't muster up the energy to appreciate any of it. And Iwasbeing marched to my death. Funny how your own impending demise will rob a girl of her desire to take in the scenery.

Our trek through the palace seemed to take forever, but in truth, I was moving so slowly that Harron threatened to toss me over his shoulder and carry me three separate times. When I staggered, the cavernous hallway spinning around me in a blur of light and color, Harron dragged me roughly to my feet but then surprised me by shoving a water canteen into my stomach.

I took it, unscrewing the top as fast as my trembling fingers could manage. “I'm shocked. Wasting water on the dead?”

“You're right. Give it back,” he growled.

But I was already drinking. I was so thirsty, so desperately dehydrated, that the water felt like liquid fire as it went down, but I paid no heed to the burn. I swallowed, swallowed, swallowed, panting down my nose as I fought to breathe around the flow.

“All right, all right. That's enough. You're gonna drown yourself,” Harron warned. When I didn't return the canteen, he tried to rip it out of my hands, but I stepped back out of his reach. “You're gonna drink the damn thing dry,” he groused.

This comment was the thing that finally made me lower the canteen. “Oh? Let me guess. You'll have to walk all the way to a tap somewhere to refill it now, will you, Harron? My heart bleeds for you. Tell me, have you ever had to try and survive a day on the water ration Madra issues?”

“QueenMadra's water allowances are more than generous—”

“I'm not talking about in the Hub or any of the fancy inner wards. D'you even know how much she givesusto drink every day? In the Third?”

“I'm sure it's enough—”

“Six ounces.” I shoved the water canteen into hisstomach so hard that his breath made an“ooof”sound as it rushed out of his body. “Six.Ounces.And our water doesn't come from a tap. It comes from a standing reservoir that fills from your run-off. Do you understand what that means?”

“There's a filtration process—”

“There's agrate,” I snarled. “It catches the solids.”

Harron's features remained impassive, but I thought I caught a flicker of something close to disgust in his eyes. He rolled out his shoulders, then shook his head, looping the canteen's strap across his chest. “If the Queen's advisors think that system works for the Third, then I'm sure it does. And look at you. You seem pretty healthy to me.”

The confession was right there, on the tip of my tongue. 'If I seem healthy to you, then that's because I've been stealing from the Hub's water reservoirs my entire life.'

I caged the words behind my teeth. I was already neck-deep in shit, and I didn't need to add water theft to my charges. And there was Hayden and Elroy to think about. They'd still need tosiphon water to survive, and they wouldn't be able to do that if the guardians suspected for even a second that such a crime was possible.

Harron shoved me forward again, but this time when I walked, the stone floor was a little steadier beneath the soles of my boots. “You people walk around with those plague bags hooked on your belts,” I said. “You say our ward's locked down so tight because we're quarantined. You say we're afflicted with a sickness. That we're contagious. But we aren't, Captain. We're being slowly and methodically poisoned because we don't matter. Because we ask questions. Because we say no. Because Madra sees us as a burden on the city. She feeds us foul, dirty water, and we die in droves because of it. Meanwhile, you and yours turn the handle, and fresh, clean water flows into your canisters. No one standing over you, looking over your shoulder, beating you and telling you enough. Have you ever asked yourself why—”

“I'm not paid to askanything,” Harron interrupted in a clipped tone.

“No, of course not. Like I said. Ask a question, and you'll get sent to the Third. It isn't disease that's contagious in my ward, Captain. It'sdissent.Anarchy and rebellion spread like a wildfire. And what do you do with a fire? You blockade it. Trap it behind a wall. Give it nowhere else to go until it burns itself out and dies a quiet death. That's what Madra's doing with my people. Except our fire hasn't burned out the way she'd hoped it would. We've been reduced to embers, yes, but the coals that lie beneath the ash of my ward are still hot enough to burn. Do you know much about metalwork, Captain? I do. It's under the most unbearable conditions that the sharpest, most dangerous weapons are forged. And wearedangerous, Captain. She’s turned usallinto weapons.Thatis why she won’t suffer my people to live.”

Harron was silent for a long time. Then he said, “Just walk.”