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I t was a fitful night of pain and confusion.

My back was stiff, and muscles ached from laying on the stone floor.

I wasn’t sure if it was morning, but I rose and worked the kinks from my body.

It would have been far too easy to curl up and wither away in the corner—that was exactly what I wanted to do, but a nagging voice in my head told me I couldn’t give up yet, even if death seemed certain.

Footsteps drew near, and torchlight flickered around the cracks of the door. The lock turned and blinding blue light flooded the room, obscuring the faces of the two guards.

The first figure stepped forward. “Nova.” The familiar voice triggered a wave of relief.

“Jarrett.” I exhaled, rising from the corner. I feared he’d been taken away with Devrix. “Are you … Are we—”

“It’s morning. I need to collect your blood,” he interrupted in a smooth tone.

I looked to the guard manning the doorway. A stern faced Arden emerged in my developing vision. Trust only Jarrett— that had been Devrix’s warning. “Of course.” I bridled my excitement from seeing Jarrett, along with all the questions I had for him. Instead, I asked, “Are you taking me upstairs?”

“No. There is a small lab down here that Jesmine has ordered us to use.” He paused. “If I don’t bind you, do you promise not to run? You would only be putting yourself in more danger.”

There was no escaping, I knew that. I nodded, stepping forward. Arden led with the torch, and Jarret trailed behind me.

Not too far down the hall, we came to an open room.

The men escorted me inside. Small torches burned along the wall.

With their blue flames and the dark stone dampening it, the atmosphere was bleak.

The space was a crude version of Jesmine’s lab on the third floor.

Dilapidated tables, chipped glass vials, and old iron tools rusted on shelves.

I was directed to a stool with a ripped leather cover.

I was happy to rest on something other than the cold floor.

Jarrett gathered supplies, while Arden waited wordlessly near the door.

I wanted to ask Jarrett what he knew, what happened with Devrix, and if there was any chance of survival now that he was gone.

My tongue felt restless, holding back so many questions.

Jarrett is the only one I can trust. I will wait until he is alone and reveals himself to me.

“Food will be sent down later. I know you might not want to eat, but meals can be scarce down here, so I advise you do.” Jarrett’s tone remained neutral, unveiling nothing.

“Thanks, but it seems a bit pointless,” I grumbled. Jarrett’s eyes flashed up for an instant. “Without a blanket, I doubt I’ll make it another week sleeping on the frigid ground.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” he replied.

My blood was taken, and I was returned to my cell. Just as Jarrett had said, a bowl of gruel and a small glass of water were delivered through a sliding panel near the floor. There was no blanket.

Starving, I forced down the sludge. Flavorless and sticky, with hard chunks, as usual. I allowed myself one swig of water from the small glass. It tasted of iron and dirt, but prior experience had taught me to preserve it wisely.

In the remaining time, I sat with my legs tucked tightly to my chest and tried to sleep with my head resting on my knees.

When coldness crept in, I walked around the cell, tracing the walls with my hand so I didn’t smack into them.

The movement helped me stay warm and woke me enough to contemplate how I might survive.

Some point later, a small scratchy blanket was pushed into my cell from the same opening the food had been delivered. Whether it was Jarrett or some other guard, I couldn’t be sure—they left without a word.

The days went on, marked only by my morning blood offering and a random meal of questionable substance.

The blanket became my prized possession, and while it didn’t entirely stop the cold from seeping in, I could get a few hours of sleep at a time before I woke up shivering and numb.

The blackness was maddening. There was no way to gauge time and nothing to distract me from my self-sabotaging thoughts. Events repeated in my mind until I questioned everything. Would Claire be alive if she hadn’t been helping me? Can I really trust Jarrett?

When my thoughts circled around to Devrix, they returned to the night we’d spent together. The biggest question wasn’t whether I had misplaced my trust—I felt it in my gut, Devrix was good—the bigger question was: How had Jesmine found out about him?

And what was he trying to tell me with the letter?

Ultimately, my hunger was too strong and my mind too fogged to figure out the puzzle.

Jarret arrived for another blood collection. Only this time, instead of Arden, Pinchy-hands accompanied him. The oaf of a man must have just learned how to whistle because his weak attempts to carry a tune were the only sound between us.

I glowered in his direction as Jarret held the drawing vial filling with my blood.

“I’m surprised he can get out a whole three notes.” I snarked, my mood sour.

Jarret sealed to the vial. “Three is a welcomed improvement since yesterday,” he replied.

I felt him nudge my arm and looked down. He was trying to hand me a container of Devrix’s ointment. Not sure if it mattered, I still reached for it, whispering, “What’s the point? I—”

“Hey! What is yous mumbling about?” Pinchy-hands blurted just as I slipped the ointment from view.

“I need another drawing vial,” Jarrett said, shifting the attention. “Can you run to the supply room and get me one?” This could be our chance. If Pinchy-hands left the room, it would be the first time Jarrett and I could talk freely.

“Heh, I don’t know where them things are,” the oaf replied.

“There on the third row to the right. Big crate. Can’t miss it.” Jarrett explained.

I could see the pain on the man’s face from thinking. “Ehh, better wait so yous can show me,” he replied.

Jarrett’s face pinched with a frustration I felt deeply. If he could get the man to leave, there would finally be an opportunity for him to tell me if there was any chance of rescue.

Instead of leaving, Pinchy-hands moved closer. “What so special bout this one? Boss lady won’t even let us play with her.” His dull eyes wandered over me as Jarrett fussed with my bandage.

“She is the Blood Offering,” Jarrett replied. “Lady Jesmine has plans for her, so keep your hands to yourself.”

“Eeh.” The boorish man swatted away Jarrett’s reply. “We can always get another one if she breaks. Ain’t stopped me before.”

Jarrett stood, rising to meet the man’s stare. “Sure, go ahead—and you can be the one to explain to Lady Jesmine that you didn’t think her rules were worth following.”

Pinchy-hands snorted a huff of defeat. “Ahh, ain’t worth all that I spose.” He moved back to his post at the door. “Been a while since we had any fun, though,” he grumbled.

I was returned to my cell with no new information.