I shinny my back straight against the wall and brace my arms to give me some leverage. Then I raise my straightened right leg up and to the side. Unfortunately, I’m not quite flexible enough and I’m struggling to get my boot to my fingers. I strain for all I’m worth, pushing it closer inch by inch. I manage to grasp a loop of my laces with the tips of my fingers. However, I lose my grip and my leg falls back to the floor with a thud.

I take a frustrated breath and give it another go. Only this time Ines kicks her leg over, pushing it against the back of mine and propping it up. And it does the trick. With my laces now in reach, I grab the center knot and pull it out. But before I can yank on the loops, Jag appears on the other side of the bars with four guards behind him, one of whom is the tall bouncer from the pub.

I drop my leg to the floor, but it’s too late. Jag’s already taken note of my positioning and Aarya’s bare foot.

“Oh no, don’t stop on my account,” Jag says as the bouncer unlocks the cell door.

The sound of his voice chills me.

“I had come down here to make you aware of the festivities,” he says like we’re guests and not prisoners. “But I see you’re already playing a game of your own.”

None of us moves or attempts to speak.

Jag steps into the cell. His silver hair is neatly arranged around his face, his black clothes are impeccable, and the cloak he wears around his shoulders is lined with deep red velvet.

Jag positions himself in front of Ines. “Now let’s see what we have here.” He eyes Aarya’s bare foot and my partially untied laces. “Given your bare feet, I assume Ines has something she can’t reach, something useful, perhaps something she might…pick a lock with?” The way he uses our names like we’re all familiar to him is unnerving. He waits a beat. “Yes, I believe that’s exactly right. The question is, where is this mysterious item, and how shall we find it?”

When no one answers, he concentrates on Ines. “Not in your boots, I imagine, or you would just have taken them off. And my guards searched your clothes.”

Aarya looks like she wants to murder him.

“No,” Jag says. “I think whatever you’ve hidden must be somewhere in…your hair.” His assessment is that of an expert strategist, with a reasoned tone to match, yet his words cut like a knife. “I think we’d better check, don’t you?”