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held my arm, as if I might run.
    Where would I run to in this place of darkness? At least six doors had already been shut between me and freedom.
    My broken nose throbbed, and the pain was nauseating. Blood flowed down my lip and chin.
    The first guard stopped in front of a cell door and produced a ring of keys from his belt. He unlocked it and yanked the bars. The door scraped open with a rusty wail.
    A shiver seized me and shook me to the bones.
    The second guard planted a hand between my shoulder blades and shoved. I pitched forward on my hands and knees.
    They left me there.
    Rain ran off my clothes and puddled on the floor. I dragged myself to the edge of the cell and tucked my legs into my chest. Slowly, I became aware of my surroundings in more detail. The floor was uneven, scattered with grime. A bucket sat in one corner, reeking of refuse. Distant shouts and sounds of crying echoed through the halls.
    Something stirred in the corner. I drew back, horrified, as a rumpled shadow straightened and revealed a face. A cellmate.
    He was in shadow, but I caught a glimpse of stringy hair, bushy eyebrows, and mouth full of broken teeth. Had he arrived looking thus, or is this what this place reduced him to?
    I wiped some of the blood from my face with my wet sleeve. Even the slightest prod of my injured face made me hiss in pain. The memory of my sister, splattered in my blood, flashed through my mind. Panic gripped me again. Had they been arrested, too?
    How long would I be here? A day? A month? A year?
    I bent over and tried to breathe. Pain flamed through my face. My gut clenched. I almost vomited. Regaining my composure, I slumped back against the bars and looked at my cellmate again.
    “How long have you been in here?” I asked.
    “Stuff you,” he growled. “You deserve to be in here, with your fancy clothes and your airs. You’re the Dictator’s enemies, not the likes of me.”
    I was silent. He didn’t know who I was. How could he? I must be nearly unrecognizable by now.
    Footsteps rang out. The guard returned and looked at us through the bars. I started to scramble up. Hope flared in me. My mother and father had spoken to someone, pulled strings—Korr had changed his mind, retracted whatever he had done—
    But when the guard unlocked the cell, he took my cellmate instead of me.
    I dropped to the filthy stone floor and shut my eyes after they’d gone. I thought of the scrap of paper that had been in my pocket. I thought of my sister and her birthday. I thought of Korr’s black, expressionless eyes as I was dragged out of the house in front of everyone.
    My fingers curled into fists, and I wanted to scream, but all that escaped me was a groan.
    Hours later, the guards returned with my cellmate. His hands were bandaged. At the ends of the bandages, I saw blood.
    I curled up in a ball and faced the bars.
     
     
    NOW
     
     
    I HEARD VOICES. I cracked open my eyes, but the world was a blur of darkness and shadows and lantern light.
    Gentle hands touched me. They smelled of soap and bread. I leaned into them with a sigh.
    “Lakin,” I murmured. It had to be Lakin. Who else would touch me so tenderly?
    Slowly, details began to leak into my consciousness. I was lying on straw. My back burned with pain and my skin was hot. What was going on? Where was I? Why was Lakin here?
    I became aware of the pain, and I thrashed against it. Everything hurt, every single joint in my wretched body ached and throbbed and shrieked with agony. I twisted, and the hands grasped me hard.
    Soldiers?
    I was hoisted up. I sank my face into soft hair that smelled sweet.
    Lakin.
    I breathed her name, and then I was in darkness again. Sweet, sweet darkness.
    The light intruded abruptly. The air was cold. I moaned. My skin tingled as icy wind whipped across my cheeks, and I staggered forward while hands held me, guided me.
    Where was I?
    Warmth rushed over me again, and I heard the crackle of a fire. I sank onto a bed of softness, and heat