“It’s only for one day, Twelve.” She spoke softly and her hand found Twelve’s shoulder in the gloom. “Use the time wisely. Please. Think about whether you have a future at the lodge. Think about the person you want to be.”

She stepped back and locked the door. On the wall opposite the cell was a small alcove. Silver placed the key in it and lit a waiting candle.

“I’ll send someone down with your dream milk,” she said over her shoulder as she walked away. “I don’t want you to suffer any more than necessary.”

Slowly, Twelve’s fingers unclenched and she stepped forward soundlessly. She pressed her face against the cold metal bars to keep Silver and Victory in view for as long as possible. When they vanished, the silence pressed around her. She couldn’t stop herself imagining the huge weight of earth above, waiting to crush her. Panic fluttered in her chest like a moth. Widge sensed it, squeezing himself against her neck and licking her cheek until her thoughts calmed and her breathing became regular again.

She raised a hand to scratch his cheek the way he liked. “Sorry,” she whispered. “This is my fault. You deserve better.” Widge chirped his agreement, but carried on licking her cheek.

Furious with herself, Twelve closed her eyes and let the warm orange candlelight bleed through her eyelids. If she stayed like this, she could almost imagine she was somewhere else.

“You obviously don’t.” Five’s voice broke rudely into her thoughts. Twelve opened her eyes, the horror of the dungeon crowding in on her again. She didn’t speak until she was sure her voice wouldn’t let her down.

“I don’t what?” she said loudly, pleased by the icy chill in her tone.

“Have a future at the lodge of course,” Five called. “If anyone in this place doesn’t have the temperament for it, it’s you. You’d be terrible at settling disputes among the clans. It’s laughable, totally ridiculous.”

Privately, Twelve agreed with him: the lodge was a means to an end. That was all.

“You’re right,” Twelve said. She allowed herself a moment of pleasure at the shocked silence that followed.

“Uh . . . I am? I mean, yes, I am!” Five corrected himself quickly. “Clearly.”

“My only consolation is that you’ll be worse,” Twelve went on, starting to enjoy herself, despite the coiling darkness. “I just can’t see the clans putting up with your whining. They’ll be hiring a banemage to do away with you before a week is out. I’d last at least a fortnight longer than you.”

“Whining?” Five sounded apoplectic. “My complaints are solely about you and are all totally valid.”

“Try telling that to the banemage,” Twelve shrugged.

There was a thud as though Five had kicked his door. Then, mocking: “I heard Silver mention dream milk.”

Twelve remained silent, her grin fading. Widge bristled.