I should’ve known our affair wouldn’t be a secret with all the eyes Mazus had on me. I was a fool for forgetting where I was. I want to be angry with Genevieve for betraying me to Silas, but I can’t. She’d lived her entire life at the mercy of others, contained within whatever cage her closest male relative had built for her. I don’t blame her for jumping at the chance to improve her station.

When I’m not thinking of Genevieve, I pick through every detail of my last days in Thayaria before leaving for Velmara, trying to discover the action that’s been interpreted as traitorous, but come up blank. The longer I go without answers, the more my confusion turns to anger. It consumes me. Either Laurel believes the worst of me without even hearing my side of the story, or she’s made me a pawn in some larger strategy without consulting me and left me here to rot.

I saw the evidence with my own eyes, Laurel had said. What am I missing?

Carex visits on what I think is day three, though he provides no information about what made Laurel think me a traitor. Doubt clouds his eyes as he questions me about my involvement with the rebels. Whatever evidence Laurel thinks she has, I can tell Carex doesn’t believe it. But he’s too loyal to her, too in love with her to ever go against her wishes. What a useless excuse for a male. If only he could have seen that what Laurel needed was someone to challenge her, maybe they would’ve stood a chance.

Laurel finally visits once I’ve lost count of how many days I’ve been in this underground hell. I don’t bother standing this time, my fury burning too hot to even look her in the eyes.

“Come to make baseless accusations again?” I spit. Her eyes widen for an instant before the cold mask I know so well returns. Not once in three hundred and twenty years has that mask been turned on me, and it both breaks my heart and enrages me in equal measure. “Or are you here to secretly torture me, like you’ve done to so many other prisoners down here?”

She flinches, and I know the blow lands as I intended. Laurel has never let go of her guilt, even as she holds onto the rage that drives her down here in the first place, stuck in an endless cycle between the two. The mask returns, though I can’t help but notice her eyes show regret and sadness.