Between paralysis and the stray thought, reaching for my powers and finding them was slower than Amy was in reaching out to touch me.

The touch lasted all of two seconds. Then, belated, she pulled her hand away, and my consciousness went in the other direction, more of an immediate blackout than any time I’d fallen asleep or been knocked unconscious.

Forced.

⊙

⊙

⊙

⊙

⊙

I roused, and my body felt leaden. I used my flight, instinctively, like I was getting out of bed in the morning, and I pushed myself to a sitting-up position.

The feeling of having betrayed myself was the first thing to set in. I’d betrayed every aspect of myself, from that vulnerable side of myself to the scholar to the warrior monk and the wretch.

I’d let my guard down.

Now…

I dared to look.

A square room with a cot and a closed door. I lay on the cot. Amy sat in a chair in the corner opposite where I lay. A guard stood near her.

I brought my knees to my chest, and I hugged them, as if I could put myself further away from her. My hand was bandaged. I felt tightness around the injured parts. I couldn’t tell through bandage, but it felt like the skin was there and swollen.

I wondered if I’d have to hurt her. I’d have to be careful of my injured hand.

“You don’t need to be afraid,” she told me.

I didn’t answer.

“Don’t give me the silent treatment. Please.”

That just made me want to do it more. Petty. Refuge in hate, in fighting mindlessly because the alternative was surrender.

I thought of Sveta’s absence. She’d been watching over things.

“My team. Are they okay?”

“They’re fine. They’re back in the prison population.”

“Do they know you’re in here?”

“No.”

I squeezed my legs harder.

“They were angry, when you passed out,” she said. “There was almost an incident. Marquis—he’s here because I am. He talked them down. Your group had a huddle. They talked about it. They agreed it made the most sense to let it be, given cost, benefit, and what Citrine said about Shin.”

“Leaving me here,” I said.

“They didn’t like it but given what’s at stake…”

“Supplies for Gimel,” I said, feeling hollow. The hollowness scared me.