Night had fallen in earnest by the time they arrived, and Serina was grateful for Ember’s torch and Val’s firearm. She didn’t like the way the darkness crowded around them.

Ten women guarded the entrance nearest the path. They nodded solemnly as Serina’s group filed inside. The dim, musty stairwell was as narrow and shadowed as the cave’s entrance. Serina filled her mind with images of tall ceilings and sparkling chandeliers. She drew in a breath and imagined it as a clean sea breeze, without the smell of sulfur, or ash, or blood.

Blood?

They’d reached the top of the stairs. The thick iron door stood open.

Val raised his weapon. Serina fitted her knife to her hand.

Slowly, they stepped into the long hall. For the first time, Serina could hear the buzz of the lights. Belatedly, she realized why.

The guards weren’t shouting threats and insults.

Serina stared at Anika, Mirror, and Fox. They all held firearms. It wasn’t their turn on watch.

“Anika,” Serina said softly, and then she could see into the shadows of the cells: the arms splayed, the blood spatters. “What have you done?”

FOURTEEN

NOMI

NOMI WOKE WITH her head pillowed on her arm, curled up in the bow of the boat. Faint streaks of dawn illuminated Malachi’s face. He was asleep next to the tiller, head back against the gunwale, his mouth slack.

If they’d both been asleep—

Nomi sat up fast, belatedly noting other details: the sails, slack; the lights of a village glowing at the edge of shore, a dozen yards away.

Shore, just a dozen yards away.

She scuttled to the stern of the boat.

“Malachi!” she said, shaking his shoulder.

With an un-Heir-like snort, his head fell forward and he woke, sputtering like she’d dropped him in the water. “What? What is it?”

She pointed wordlessly at the village, so close.

He slumped back and rubbed at his eyes. “I know.”

“You… what—” It was Nomi’s turn to sputter.

“You were asleep. I didn’t want to wake you, and I knew we needed to wait until sunrise to dock anyway. So I took down the sails and threw the anchor.” He yawned. “I’m glad. I got some sleep too.”

Nomi stared across the water to the houses climbing spiderlike into the hills. “That’s Porto Rosa?”

He nodded. “It is.”

She craned over the gunwale, looking for the anchor line. “Then let’s go.”

“Not yet,” Malachi said. “We need to eat. And you need to change.”

Nomi looked down at herself, at her threadbare shirt and baggy prison pants.

“I know it will be painful, but we’ll need to play the part,” he added, almost gently.

“You mean the part of quiet, obedient girl following her husband with her head down.” The familiar urge to scream rose in her chest.