A loud whistle shrieks in my ears.

One set of hands lets go, then another. I flop painfully on the ground, my hands gripping my abdomen where the kick landed.

“Sod off, the lot of you. If anyone is going to be turning in these criminals, it’s me.”

I manage to adjust to a sitting position before eyeing the newcomers. They’re in uniform, black tunics with three (or six?) silver stripes running lengthwise from neck to navel.

City guards.

Manacles materialize, seemingly out of nowhere. I can’t quite count how many men surround us through my hazy vision, but I think it’s at least a dozen. My wrists are cuffed, Secret Eater is taken from my side. I can’t even manage to protest as the world sways from side to side.

I don’t remember losing consciousness, but the next thing I know, I wake on the ground. It hurts to open my eyes, and every limb aches. When I try to adjust for comfort, pain pierces through my skull.

“Whatever did you lot do to piss off Warlord Kymora?” a gruff voice asks.

When no one answers, another voice says, “Seems to me they stole her property. She insisted all weapons in their possession be saved for her arrival. You lot really picked the wrong mark to filch.”

“Doesn’t look like they have a full brain among the four of them. Still, station two extra men outside the prison. I don’t want any chance of them escaping before she arrives. Forty thousand ockles is enough to retire on.”

“Not in this city.”

“Maybe I’ll retire to the tropics. Or head south toward the mountains.”

“And live without anyone else to boss around?”

Laughter fills my ears.

“Don’t like the look of this big brute. Better make it four extra guards outside the prison.”

“Yes, Captain.”

A creaky door opens and closes. A lock turns. I finally manage to pull my eyelids apart. Even then, it takes me a moment to realize what I’m looking at it.

The cell is filled with inky darkness. I can mostly see shadows where Petrik, Kellyn, and Temra are. My sister is crouched down beside me, her hand not far from mine, as though she’d been holding it a moment ago.

I try to sit up and groan.

The boys rush to my side. Strong arms haul me into a sitting position, and then Kellyn is searching my face.

“Are you hurt?”

“Everywhere,” I answer.

“And your head?” Petrik asks.

“That hurts, too.” I raise a hand to where the back of my skull throbs, only to find something crusty there.

They made me bleed.

“Where are we?” I ask.

“Briska City Prison,” Temra says.

“And the weapons?”

“Right over there.” She points, and through the bars, I think I see a mass that could be the Zivan blades atop a table.

“Everything else is gone,” Kellyn says, his voice sounding dangerous, like he’d very much like to hit the nearest person. “Filthy guards took our supplies and money. My money. All gone.”