“You’re Sarie’s little sister, are you?”

She nodded mutely.

He gripped her wrist, twisting it hard. “Speak when you’re spoken to, girl.”

Raisa gasped in pain, tears springing to her eyes. “Yes, sir. I’m Sarie’s sister.” She held up the bakery bag with the other hand, like a shield. “I brought her dinner, sir.”

“The Sarie what’s in the Raggers?” the sergeant continued.

She glanced up quickly, then away. “The Raggers, sir? What’s that?”

The sergeant laughed. He let go of her wrist and took a swig of beer. “What’s your name?”

“Rebecca, sir.”

“You’re a right pretty little thing, Rebecca. How old are you?”

Raisa cast about desperately for an age. Younger was better she decided. “Th-thirteen, sir,” she said, hunching her shoulders, trying to remember what thirteen looked like.

“Ah.” He grinned wider. “Would you like to see your sister, then?”

“I would, sir.”

The sergeant stood and took her by the arm. “Come on, then.”

Sloat began muttering a protest. “Sergeant Gillen, I a’ready told her, No visitors.”

“Shut it, Sloat,” Gillen said. “We’ll make a special exception, in this case.”

He hauled her down a long corridor lined with stout-looking wooden doors, her feet touching the floor only at every third step. And all the way, Raisa kept thinking, This is the brutal Sergeant Gillen. The one the Raggers whispered about. The one Amon spoke of, who beats people in the street. What have I gotten myself into?

At the end of the hall was a metal gate, and beyond that another wooden door that Gillen unlocked with a large metal key. Gillen took her through both, stopped long enough to light a torch, and then propelled her down a narrow staircase to the cellar.

Raisa shivered from fear and cold. It was chilly and damp on the cellar level, and she knew they must be close to the river, because of the stink.

Or maybe it was the stink of death all around her. This was an evil place, where evil things were done. Images of disaster circulated through her head. She felt panicked, claustrophobic, and she knew she had to get out.

“You know, sir, I’m thinking maybe it’s best I come back tomorrow,” she said, turning back toward the stairs.

“Come on, missy, we’re almost there.” Gillen seized the scruff of her neck and yanked her forward so hard she nearly fell.

Instinctively, she knew that any sudden claim to royalty would be disregarded. In the unlikely event he did believe her, he would not hesitate to throttle her to death and drop her in the river to prevent her from carrying this story back to Fellsmarch Castle. Gillen had a killer’s heart under his royal blue uniform.

She’d thought of it as an adventure, like something Hanalea would do. She’d thought she understood the stakes she’d be playing for, and she’d been wrong.