“Honestly, Kiki, I don’t know. I feel like we’re only seeing a tiny corner of a puzzle but we’re missing all the pieces.”

Letting my eyes drift shut—the left one is truly swollen now, I’ll be lucky if I can see come morning—I lean my head back against the stones. They’re damp and disgusting, but my exhaustion wins out. I’ve slept in worse places. Slept in far better places too, but in this case, prisoners cannot be choosers.

“We’ll figure it out,” Kiki says. “I know we will.” She pats my knee gently. “And for now, soothe yourself with the thought of what the warden’s face is going to look like when he realizes he’s jailed the children of one of the most powerful men in Potosí.”

I crack my good eye open to look at Kiki. She’s barely more than a dark blur in the penumbra of torchlight. Her expression is lost to me in the gloaming. “I am not his child.”

“No, but you are his ward,” Kiki insists. “You live under his roof. You eat at his table. He provides for you, just as he provides for me. You are a part of this family. You count.”

The fact that her words create an odd little lump in my throat has nothing to do with anything. Nothing at all. Pure coincidence.

“Thank you,” I say softly.

“No need to thank me for stating the truth,” Kiki says. She opens her mouth as if to say more, but a yawn cracks her jaw. It may be damp and disgusting, but it is pleasantly dark down here in this cesspool of human suffering.

“Get some rest,” I say. “I’ll wake you up if the rat comes back.”

Was it a mean thing to say? Yes. Of course.

Would I say it again just for the amusement her disgruntled face provides me? Absolutely.

But eventually, Kiki dozes off, head resting against my shoulder. It feels lovely, having her so close to me. Lovelier than it should, considering the circumstances. I try to stay awake, honestly, I do. It’s a valiant effort, but slumber comes for me too. I am only human, after all.

I am awoken by the sound of footfalls against stone.

It takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness, punctuated now only by the weak light of a single torch mounted on the wall opposite our cell.

Boots click against the floor, oddly loud in the silence.

I glance at Kiki, but she’s still out. At some point, she curled over to her side, her head resting on her folded arms. Gingerly, I rise to stand, my aching joints protesting with every movement.

The sound of those boots draws closer still.