Peering down, Evin saw little Kady Fairchild, his neighbor’s daughter. The young girl watched him with wide, doll-like eyes that shimmered with impending tears, and memories bubbled into Evin’s mind of the girl coming to the inn and having tea parties with Evin’s mother when the tavern wasn’t busy. Overcome by this simple memory, Evin’s hands fumbled and he dropped his dagger. It clattered to the stone floor.

Bet sighed. “Move,” she told Evin. “Let me try.”

He didn’t argue—he couldn’t think enough to be angry. As he bent down to collect his dagger, all he could focus on were the orange-lit faces of the people packed together inside the cage. Memories of how they fit into his life swirled inside his brain, surging into his thoughts as though a floodgate had been opened.

Allen and Lam were there, brothers and tradesmen who spent many a night celebrating their good fortunes at the tavern, and who often slipped Evin sips of their ales when his mother wasn’t looking.

Sera, a seamstress apprentice that Marten was sweet on, was here. She was one of the few people who could stop Evin’s father from being all business long enough to sit down for a nice meal.

He saw Shon, the mayor’s assistant whom he and Marten often practiced their pick pocketing upon, and who always got so satisfyingly huffy when he realized his handkerchiefs were missing.

All these people were a part of life in Hesiod, and yet for the past two days, all Evin focused on was saving his brother and his parents—when he wasn’t busy focusing on how this was supposed to be a grand adventure or how annoying Bet was.

Why hadn’t he thought of all these other innocent people earlier? Why hadn’t he worked harder to save anyone when the village was burning? A rush of guilt washed over him.

With a clang, the cage’s lock snapped open. Bet smiled down at Evin. “I think my way is easier.” She slipped her wand back into her robes.

The bars around the lock glowed bright red, and inside the cage, the crowded villagers hugged one another. Evin grasped the bars of the cage and yanked back—but the door only opened a few inches before stopping with the jangle of chains. Startled, Evin looked at the cell door and saw that chains were attached to the top and bottom, allowing it to open only a small bit. Connected to the chains were two more padlocks.

“Of course,” he muttered.

“What’s wrong?” Evin heard Mary Wright ask. “Did you get it open?”

“Not yet,” Evin said as loudly as he dared. “Bet, can you get the top lock? I’ll get the bottom one and—”

“Evin!” Hearing Jorick’s voice, Evin stopped and turned to see his friend race around the side of the cage.