“Yes,” she said, returning to herself. “I gather you think escape through the window is a bad idea.” She touched her own face gently, touched her own neck, as if reminding herself of her own frontiers. “And maybe that’s because you’re on Lovisa’s mother’s side,” she said. “But maybe it’s because you don’t want me to fall to my death.”

Bitterblue, who hated heights, shuddered. “All right,” she said. “I lost it there for a minute. I promise it won’t happen again. From now on I’ll only do wise things, like think about murdering the guard.” Then she started laughing. “Oh,” she said, sitting on the edge of her cot and rubbing her greasy, hurting braids with her greasy, sore fingers. “How I want a drink, and cake, and some cream puffs, and a toothbrush, and a bath.”

And she thought of Giddon, shirtless and muddy, disappearing into his bathing room and splashing water around, while Lovejoy the cat climbed into her lap. And then he’d come out and sat in the chair with them. She’d leaned against him. And even with the anxiety of Skye’s unread letter in her fist, she’d been happy.

She wondered, what would he say if he were here now? He would say something perceptive that would help her understand her situation better. And he would be funny, and make her giggle and take herself less seriously. Giddon had a special gift for conversations when she was discouraged. All conversations, really. She went to him sometimes feeling like the cleverest person, excited to talk about some new, clever thing she’d thought of, and see his face light up, and make him laugh. And sometimes, when they were talking, he said things that showed her hidden parts of him, and those moments were like stumbling upon unexpected treasure. When this ordeal ended and they all got home again, surely the Council wouldn’t take Giddon away from her right away, would they? Katsa and Po, Raffin and Bann would understand that she needed him, right?

Bitterblue didn’t know why she was crying. But she knew she had to stop, because she couldn’t afford to lose the water.

Chapter Twenty-five

Ferla Cavenda was making new plans, and they were terrifying. Every time the fox dipped into her mind, her plans turned his body into a rigid sculpture of alarm.

Ferla had cared once about not getting people killed. She’d wanted a perfect life, one that would have made her father proud: the perfect Ledra house, all the money in the world. The perfect family: children to raise as she’d been raised, who would go off into the world and reflect their successes upon her, and a husband she loved, who shared her ambitions and cunning.

Then Benni had struck that boy down right in front of her eyes.