“Then,” I say, smiling even though I know nothing good will meet us on the other end of this journey, “that means we’re on the right track.”

Ana pushes up to her knees to glance through the barred window of our rolling cage. I lean over to follow her gaze. The dark, ominous bulk of the city jail rises up against the velvet blue of the night sky.

“I hope that thought keeps you warm,” Ana says as the coach begins to slow to a stop. “Because we’re here.”

CHAPTER 21

Ana

The jail in which we are unceremoniously tossed is the finest in Potosí.

Which means it’s a single rusting rung above one of Dante’s circles of hell.

See, Kiki, I wish to say, I do read the books you tell me to.

But now hardly feels like the time to gloat over my literacy.

“I refuse to die here, Ana,” Kiki says as she toes at a pile of dirty hay in the corner. “What is this?”

Her bravado faded the moment they tossed us in this cell.

“I suppose that’s our bed for the evening.” It’s cruel that I said so just to get a rise out of her, but this cell is tiny, and if we’re going to be here all night, I’m going to have to find a way to make my own fun.

Kiki hops away from the hay when something moves beneath its depths. I catch the briefest glimpse of a thin hairless tail as the thing disappears into the shadows of the cells.

“What the hell was that?”

“Our new bedmate.”

She retches as if she’s going to be sick.

Sometimes I forget how delicate she is. Not delicate as in fragile but …

Kiki is not as comfortable with rats as I am. As I had to be. She stands in the middle of the room, looking desperately uncomfortable.

“You should try to relax.” I stretch my legs, then cross them at the ankles. “We might be here for a while.”

The look she shoots me is cold enough to freeze the bars of this cell brittle enough to snap. “I will not be touching anything.”

I close my eyes and sigh. “Let’s see how long that lasts.”

An hour.

That’s how long she lasts not touching anything. I’m almost impressed.

But it’s been a long night. And day. A long couple of days, actually.

She settles next to me, as far away from the filthy bedding and its rat inhabitant as possible.

“Magdalena will notice that we’re missing sooner or later,” I say.

With a groan, Kiki slumps, dropping her head on my shoulder. “Jesus.”

I pat her head gently. “I don’t think he’s listening.”

She snickers. But then, she frowns. “Why would a magistrate be involved with any of this? With Alejandro? With Rosalita?”