When he did awake, there was nobody there and nothing to see. The Bayars must have pressing business elsewhere, Han thought. More important people to torture, maybe.

Maybe they’d somehow found the armory on their own, and no longer needed him. Maybe they’d decided to abandon him and Flinn to starvation. People always said that wasn’t a bad way to go, but they tended to be people who’d never gone hungry.

Han heard nothing from Flinn, chained up in the far corner. He considered calling out to him, but didn’t want to wake him if he’d managed to go to sleep.

Even Crow had little to say, but the silence within Han’s head was thick, as if Han’s ancestor were brooding.

A flare of light against Han’s eyelids woke him. Squeezing his eyes shut against the brilliance, he waited, measuring progress in the clink of keys and the squeal of metal on metal as the intruder opened doors to get to him.

It was Fiona, and she was alone. She seemed oddly subdued, almost frightened, her nose pinked up as if she’d been crying. She carried a large jug and a bulging bag over her shoulder.

Who died? Han wondered. Micah? He happied up a little at the thought.

Fiona lodged her torch into one of the metal brackets on the wall, lit another from it, and mounted it on the other side. Then came and knelt in front of him.

“Ah, Alister,” she said, gripping his stubbled chin with her hot fingers, turning his head this way and that. “You’ve looked better.” She wrinkled her nose. “And you’ve smelled better.”

“Whose fault is that?” Han whispered. His throat was too raw to allow more than whispers. “Decided to go into the family business after all? And here I thought we had a future together.”

“Shut up,” she snapped. “You’re the one who—” Then she collected herself, no doubt recalling that the last thing she wanted was for him to shut up.

Han focused on the jug Fiona had set down next to her. “Is that water?”

Fiona nodded. Pulling the cork with her teeth, she poured into a cup and handed it to him. He drained it quickly and thrust it out again, figuring he might as well make the most of this visit before she told him what they meant to do to him now.

“Slow down, Alister,” Fiona said, pouring again. “There’s plenty more, and I brought you some food as well.” She licked her lips and attempted a smile.

Is she trying to charm me for some reason? Han wondered.

When he’d drained the second cup, he raised his manacled hands to point at Fiona’s carry bag. “You mentioned food?”