by Abbie Lyons
Everybody was staring at Hammer, mouths dropped. It was clear we’d all been thinking the same things about the warden. We all wanted to talk shit on the stuff he said every day. But we were all too afraid.
“Hope nobody important heard that,” Randolph the gnome murmured. “Or else you’re fucked.”
That provoked a few nervous giggles in the room. For his part, Wes didn’t know how to quickly respond. Could he really have been under the illusion that things here were all well and good? It was a penitentiary, for goddess’ sake.
“Hmm,” is what he finally settled on, before taking a few moments more to formulate a more helpful response. “I’ll admit, I’ve heard this new warden isn’t as present as the last one. I haven’t met him yet, so I can’t speak to what he believes. But he’s only been here a couple months. Maybe he’s still trying to figure things out.”
Could he really be that naive? Or, like us, was he just trying to choose his words as carefully as possible? It was impossible to tell. And, hell, the fact this was a new warden was news to me. Which was just further proof of how kept in the dark we were here.
“Just know that I’m on your side,” Wes said, sensing that he was losing the room. “And no matter what anybody says, I’m here to help you. If you don’t have anybody else, I promise that you have me. And that’s a promise!” He gave us a shy smile. “I know you guys are bummed. I get it. But there was a little something I wanted to try today. I was wondering if any of you would be brave enough to talk about the reason you’re here in the Enchanted Penitentiary. It’s okay if you can’t! But I think it might give us a good start in our discussion of the road back to being a good citizen.”
Shockingly—heavy on the sarcasm there—nobody was quick to volunteer. At least I had the excuse of not actually doing the crime I was here for. Easy reason not to participate.
“I suppose I can share,” Blossom finally said. “My case was quite high profile. Plenty of society knows already, so what’s the harm? I was one of the higher-ups at the Bank of a Thousand Spires.”
If she had a position that good, she must’ve been much older than the twenty-something years she looked. Fae were always deceiving that way.
“I don’t want to get too into the details,” she explained, “because my crime is actually quite complicated. It required a great deal of financial knowledge. But as the overall money in the banking system accumulated, I saw that certain numbers were being underreported. In cases like those, some of the extra crystals and precious metals were—”
“You were stealing,” Randolph interrupted her. “That’s all you need to say. We get it.”
She sighed. “It’s more complex than stealing, but yes, you could put it that way. But if we want to simplify it, we can say that’s what I did.”
“How do you feel about that?” Wes asked gently, really playing the role of therapist. If he moved to Hollywood he could probably get a part on some sort of drama show.
“At first I didn’t feel bad at all,” Blossom admitted, although there were now a few tears rolling down her cheeks. “But I’m starting to realize how many people I hurt. Not only the ones I stole from, but my family. And my friends. They expected more of me. I don’t know how they’ll ever be able to trust me again.”
“That’s very powerful,” Wes said. “Thank you for sharing. I think we can all learn a lot from what Blossom said. Realizing that what you did hurt others is important to remember. It reminds you that before others can earn your trust, that you need to earn back your own trust in yourself. I’d like you all to think more about that in the coming days.”
Wes was trying his best. He really was. I liked him, and I knew that all he wanted to do was help some Fae on the wrong path to go down a better one.
But so long as the warden—and probably most of the guards and staff—wasn’t on the same page, I feared some of these Fae would never get the second chance they deserved.
Chapter Fourteen
THE NEXT MORNING, I awoke to an unfamiliar face at the bars of my cell.
“Inmate. Breakfast is in five.”
I snapped to sitting, alarm pounding my chest. I clutched the blanket around me, feeling uncharacteristically naked in my prison-issued sleepwear with some stranger peering in at me.
“Who’s there?” I called back, my voice scratchy and stupidly weak. Ugh.
“Guardsman. Your assigned detail is in disciplinary review, so I’ve been assigned as interim.”
Ooookay then. Whoever this guy was, he was not messing around. I got up and did my usual morning routine as best I could, keeping one eye towards the silhouetted figure at the entrance to my cell as much as I could. I was starting to get used to the steps in my daily preparations: the rough feeling of the gritty paper towels, the terrible, pungent, institutional smell of the soap, the freakin’ hopeless battle that was attempting to do my hair. Did they even let us get haircuts in prison? Or was I going to be released from here in ten years with a mullet and horrific split ends?
Smoothing the flyaways on the crown of my head with a few drops of putrid water from the sink, I tentatively approached the front of my cell. “Ready,” I squeaked.
To my surprise, the guardsman at the door wasn’t a stranger at all. It was Cobalt, Gage’s friend and fellow Azelorian.
“Oh,” I said, not able to stop myself. “It’s you. Cobalt?”
If he heard me say his name, he didn’t acknowledge it except for a subtle, almost imperceptible twitch of the lips. I took the brief pause to study him a bit closer: his face was much more angular than Gage’s was above the collar of the standard-issue uniform, although his hard gaze was equal to Gage’s most serious looks. He was quite a bit shorter than Gage, but what he lacked in height he made up in wiry build, looking as sleek and capable as a fox. Something told me he’d be good in a quick-moving combat situation, but not much else. He definitely had a weak chin. If it weren’t presumably against regulation, I’d tell him to try out some stubble or even a full beard to conceal it.
“Inmate,” he repeated, barely flicking a gaze at me. His eyes were a nondescript brown, muddy and nervous. His voice was also curiously high, more so than I’d realized earlier. “Are you fully prepared for your first meal of the day?”
“Uh, I guess?” Was this the way Azelorian guardsmen were supposed to talk? Because he sounded like a robot in a bad human sci-fi movie. “I mean, yes.”
With a jerk of his small head and a wave of his hand, Cobalt released me from my cage, and watched closely as I marched myself out into the hallway in the direction of the cafeteria.
The quiet between Cobalt and me was different than the quiet that fell when Gage was at my side. It was uncomfortable, almost awkward, and not in a way that I felt could be smoothed over. He made my skin crawl, honestly.
And the fact that he wasn’t Gage—that Gage was nowhere nearby—wasn’t helping.
“Where’s Gage?” I realized it was probably against protocol, or whatever, for a prisoner to ask about a specific guard, but I knew Gage, and Cobalt knew Gage, and maybe we could broker some kind of detente so he could keep me up to speed.
“I told you. Disciplinary review.”
“Yeah, but what does that mean?” I wheedled. “Like he’s in trouble for something?”
Cobalt made a whistling noise that might have been intended as a snort. Yeah, nice try, I thought. “You mean you don’t remember your getting injured the other day?”
Instinctively, my hand went to my temple. The wound had healed, but the memory was still as sharp as the cut had been. “Duh.”
“Well, when a guardsman’s charge is injured, that’s an automatic disciplinary review.” Cobalt cleared his throat. “We have one duty, and that is to safeguard the physical safety of our charges. In that respect, Gage failed.”
“He didn’t fail!” I cried in spite of myself as we drew near to the cafeteria entrance. “I just had a...seizure or fit or something. He wasn’t even there. How is that his fault?”
Cobalt didn’t answer, just flicked his hand to unlock the cafeteria doors.
“Seriously?” I said, not moving. “Cobalt, you’re his friend. I know you know more.”
“I can assure you, inmate, I don’t,” he said, in his reedy, nasal voice. It was almost surprising to hear such a lackluster tone coming from someone in the Azelorian Guard. Less than macho, that was for sure. “But if you’re so concerned, maybe you’ll take better care of yourself.”
I huffed, visibly pouting, but Cobalt’s gaze was locked straight ahead into the cafeteria, so I realized there was no use in putting on a show and shuffled in.
It wasn’t the first time I’d been in here without Gage at my side, but I still felt strangely afraid. Even when I was on my own, he’d still be patrolling the mess hall. There wasn’t really anyone friendly for me to talk to. Sure, I recognized some of the inmates from my Citizenship class, but I’d been a bit of a wallflower in there so far. We weren’t really friends. Not that I needed friends, necessarily. There was also Delilah, but I’d be joining her in the kitchen just after breakfast—I didn’t need a double dose of crazy today. Having the solid backstop of Gage had given me a sense of comfort I didn’t even recognize until it was gone. Until now.
“Move along, inmate,” Cobalt commanded. I scowled at him.
“You’re not my real guardsman.”
If he thought it was funny—and I doubted he did, the buzzkill—he didn’t show it. Sighing, I shuffled off to the food line and procured my usual tray of nutritious...whatever it was. Working in the kitchen hadn’t given me any more of an idea. As I gripped the edges of the tray and surveyed my seating options, it hit me. I could sit with whoever I wanted. Which meant—
“Why, if it isn’t Petal Pink.”
The voice sent shivers down my spine, and not ones that were totally unpleasant. I darted a gaze to the right to see Prince Tarian—Tarian, I supposed—raising an eyebrow at me from one of the tables.
“You look well,” he went on. “Fast healer, no doubt.”
“It’s a gift,” I quipped back. My eyes widened as my gaze fell on what lay in front of him on the table. Instead of the colorless slop most of us had, Tarian had a tray loaded with delicacies: milk puddings in the familiar pale green of Fae teas and spices, a steaming pot of cinnamon wine, and an entire bowl of crunchy, savory sparrows-eye peas, roasted to perfection.
My mouth watered instinctively. It felt like an eternity since I’d tasted real food—human or Fae—and the added nostalgia of the cuisine of my home in the Invisible Cities was bordering on intoxicating.
“Hungry?” Tarian said, no doubt noticing my staring.
“Yeah,” I said. No point in hiding it. Honestly, at this point in my incarceration, I’d sell my soul for milk pudding.
“Please,” he said, sweeping a hand over his spread. “Be my guest.”
With a glance at Cobalt, who was staring dead ahead like a typical guardsman, not bothering to monitor what I ate, or with whom, I hustled to Tarian’s table.
“Where did you get this?” I breathed, slamming my own tray on the table and pushing it aside to help myself to pudding, a bowl of sparrows-eyes, and a steaming cup of cinnamon wine.
“I’m a prince,” Tarian drawled. “Even in prison, I can make things happen.”
I only half-listened to his explanation, already slurping away half the cinnamon wine. The familiar perfumed burn of the hot liquid warmed me from the first instant it touched my lips, and I gulped at the rest of the mug, draining it in an embarrassingly short time.
“My, my,” Tarian said. “Quite an appetite.”
“Shut up,” I said. “Do you know how long I’ve had to eat this other crap?”
I plucked a dainty rosewater pastry, barely the size of the tip of my thumb, from his tray and popped it in my mouth.
“About ten days, I’d wager,” Tarian said. “Truly, you’ve been here an eternity.”
I narrowed my eyes at him as I chewed. Swallowing, I said, “You don’t understand. I don’t belong here.”
“Right, right, right.” He waved a hand, a lock of sea-blue hair falling across his brow as he grinned. “You’re innocent.”
I stopped eating. “I thought you believed me,” I said.
“I do,” he said, plain and simple enough that I believed him. “But that doesn’t mean you’re not going to be stuck here.”
I shook my head. “I can’t stay here. There’s a real killer out there.” Maybe it was just the cinnamon wine, but I was feeling revitalized, rededicated to my mission. And Tarian was right here—it was too perfect. “You need to help me.”
“Hold on.” Tarian leaned back in his seat, his palms up. “No. I won’t help you that way. Not in any kind of...” He paused, searching for the words. “Official capacity,” he finished.
“What do you mean?”
“You think you’re the first prisoner who thinks she can walk up to the Fae prince, bat her eyes, and expect me to pull some strings for her to negotiate an early release somehow?” Tarian said. “Please. Others have been much better at it, anyway. I haven’t even seen you naked yet.”
My cheeks flamed. “Ew? I wasn’t going to, like, seduce you.”
“They all say that. At first.”
I huffed and crossed my arms over my chest. I looked at Cobalt again, but he was impassive as ever. I wasn’t sure he was even paying attention to me.
“Your guardsman’s not here?” Tarian said mildly.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but no,” I said. “He’s not. Something to do with my getting hurt.”
“Mm.” Tarian traced the lip of his mug with his finger, leaning his chin on his hand. “Pity.”
“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” I couldn’t resist. Something told me that Tarian enjoyed this kind of banter. And I felt a little embarrassed that he’d called me out like that. I wasn’t trying to seduce him into doing something...just, you know, regular manipulate him.
“Your usual fellow? He’s a good guardsman,” Tarian said. “You’re lucky to be safe with him. Although I guess not safe enough to avoid being injured.”
“That was just my own fault,” I quickly said. “He didn’t have anything to do with it.”
“And yet he appears to be under review.”
I paused. “Do you know what happens there? In the administrative review, or whatever?”
Tarian shook his head. “No. I’m not interested in the bureaucracy of this place whatsoever. Which is perhaps why I would’ve made a miserable ruler. But you know me, I’m just a murderous usurper.”
I narrowed my eyes. So much for getting any information out of this guy. “I don’t think you are.”
“Really? That’d make you one of the first.”
“You talk like people make a lot of assumptions about you,” I observed, feeling free enough to eat another pastry.
“What can I say? When your life is a cliché, it’s simpler for people to go along with it rather than bother to look deeper.” He shrugged. “If anyone had a different opinion of me, I wouldn’t be sentenced to death, now would I?”
I swallowed. “I guess not.”
“I do regret that I can’t help you, Petal Pink.” Tarian’s expression was deep and probing, and I felt suddenly exposed, even in my super unflattering prison uniform, in the middle of a bustling cafeteria.
I haven’t even seen you naked yet.
Goddess. Get a grip, Emerald.
“Then try to help me,” I said. “Come on. You’re a prince, aren’t you?”
“I’m a prisoner,” Tarian said. “As much as you. I have no more means of seizing my freedom than you do.”
I huffed. That just did not seem likely. “Bullshit. You get fancy food, you find ways to cast spells...don’t tell me you don’t have some kind of special privileges.”
“I get only what I can get by whining,” Tarian commented. “And as you’ve seen, there are sometimes some injurious consequences.”
That much
was true. He had landed himself in the infirmary for...some reason. I realized I was still incredibly curious about that. Just my nosy bitch side coming out, I guess. April would be proud.
“So nothing that extends to actually helping people?”
“Short of offering them cinnamon wine...not really.”
“Hmph.” I cocked my head at him. “You know what? You’re right.”
“About?”
“You would have been a miserable ruler.”
Tarian’s face registered only shock at first, but his expression gradually melted into a wicked smile. A grin of appreciation.
“My. I like you, Petal Pink.”
“It’s Emerald,” I corrected, and boldly helped myself to another milk pudding. Without Gage watching me, and knowing that I’d gotten this prince pinned down, I was feeling a little daring. Not hopeful, mind you, but just willing to strike out a bit on my own.
Tarian said nothing at that, just studied me as I ate, which was more than a little awkward.
“Sorry if I don’t have, like, royal table manners,” I said after I’d finished my pudding. “I’m sure you’re getting super judgey about it.”
“No.” Another smile quirked his lips. “I couldn’t give a gnome’s ass about that. I’m just thinking.”
“About?”
“You.”
Heat blossomed in my chest. “What about me?”
“You don’t want to be here.”
“Yeah, I’ve told you that like a thousand times now.” I rolled my eyes. “Besides, no one here does.” I thought of my whole class, the rogue’s gallery of criminals who, despite all the various crimes they’d committed, had one important thing in common: they hated it here.
“Some have nowhere else to go,” Tarian mused, flicking a gaze over our fellow prisoners. “But generally, yes.”
“So what’s your point?”
“We should get you out of here.”
