A dusty beam of light wormed its way through the stone, and I leaned in, hoping to steal some warmth. I was a thief. It should have been easy, but the warmth eluded me. How long had I been here? Five days? A month? Eleven years? I called out to my mother and then I remembered. That was a lifetime ago. She is gone.

The narrow beam came only after long spells of darkness, maybe once a day? I wasn’t sure, and even then it didn’t stay for long, sneaking in like a curious onlooker. What have we here? It pointed at my belly now, my shirt stiff with dried blood. My, that doesn’t look good. Shouldn’t you do something? Was it a laugh I heard as the beam faded away? Or was it a quarterlord taunting me?

I wasn’t dead yet, so I knew that the knife plunged into my belly had at least missed anything vital. But the wound wept yellow, and my brow was feverish, the filth of the cell seeping in.

My dreams seeping out.

Rats rustled in a dark unseen corner. Synové hadn’t mentioned them. I remembered her telling me about her dream. I saw you chained in a prison cell … You were soaked in blood. I remembered her worried eyes. I remembered dismissing her fears. Sometimes dreams are only dreams.

And sometimes dreams were so much more.

Where is Jase?

I heard a rattle and looked up. I had a visitor. He stood in the corner studying me.

“You,” I said, my voice foreign to my ears, weak and brittle. “You’re here for me. I’ve been expecting you.”

He shook his head. Not yet. Not today. I’m sorry.

And then he was gone.

I lay down on the floor, the chains jangling against the cobbles, and I curled tight, trying to ease the ache in my gut.

I’m sorry.

An apology from Death?

Now I knew. Worse things than dying still lay ahead for me.