Those were perhaps the worst torture.

For hours, days, weeks, years—however long she had been locked away—she kept replaying everything that had led her to this moment, all the things she still had to do, all the questions that remained unanswered.

Was Jaren safe? Were they still hurting him? Was he even still alive?

And what about his magic? Was he the only anomaly, or were there others? Why was he in Zalindov when he could have used his power to evade arrest? What crime did he commit to begin with?

Then there was Naari—how did she know Jaren’s secret? Why had she kept it from the other guards, from the Warden? Was that why she’d watched Jaren so closely, because she’d feared he would try and escape?

But even after Kiva spiraled around her questions about Jaren, as the time passed, there were more things she didn’t know, more she was desperate to hear any update about.

Was Tipp all right without her? Was Tilda?

Had Naari discovered who was poisoning the prisoners? Had she figured out that Olisha and Nergal were pawns? Had she told Rooke? Had they found a cure, or were people still dying?

Was Kiva still to face the final Ordeal, the Trial by Earth? Would they just forget about it and keep her locked up in isolation forever? If so, what would that mean for Tilda? Would she be allowed to live as a prisoner, should she survive her illness? Would she be killed? Had she already been killed? It wasn’t just the sickness or the guards who were a threat to her—the other prisoners were, too. Kiva had heard them whispering, the anti-rebels plotting her demise: . . . snuff out that so-called queen in her sleep . . .

Kiva hadn’t lingered on the threats, knowing Tilda had been safe while in her care. But being locked away . . . Anything could have happened in the time she’d been gone.

And what about Kiva’s family? Had Cresta sent word to the rebels that Kiva was in the Abyss? That Tilda’s life was at risk if Kiva didn’t make it out again? Did her family know about her suffering in the dark? Did they care?

Don’t let her die.

We are coming.

They had failed to keep their promise, and Kiva was no longer sure if she could keep hers—to Tilda, and to herself.

Her family’s coded notes had given her the strength to stay alive, the knowledge that they were still out there, the hope that she would one day join them. But now Kiva feared that would never happen, that she wouldn’t live to see outside of Zalindov’s walls.

Outside of this cell.

Outside of this darkness.