by Abbie Lyons
What did it mean that I kept seeing these things? And why wasn’t I seeing anything useful?
Gage must have noticed something was wrong, because he frowned when I stepped out of my cell after the first breakfast bell. “Are you all right, Emerald?”
“I’m fine.” I rubbed my eyes. “Just slept badly.”
For some reason, I felt nervous telling Gage about anything I’d seen in this new vision. He’d been a little cagey when I’d first asked him about Gia, and I could tell that there was something pretty powerful lurking in his memories of the time when April and I left. Besides, I didn’t want to drag him into any of my plotting any more than I absolutely had to. His guardsman status was all he had now, and I couldn’t bear to be the one to make him compromise it in any way.
After the floral and salt-scented air of my nighttime vision, the grimy and deep-fried smell of the cafeteria was a ruder awakening than any alarm clock. I had barely any appetite; in fact, I thought I’d been losing weight, which I really didn’t have to lose in the first place, and was mostly dropping off my hips and boobs besides, which was making my clothes look all the more shapeless.
As Gage slowed his pace behind me, I saw something that did look appetizing. Tarian, and his spread of actual food for breakfast.
I turned—subtly, so that I wouldn’t call too much attention from the other Azelorians—and whispered to Gage. “Gage, I’m going to sit with Tarian. And you’re going to be okay with it, all right?”
A muscle worked hard in Gage’s jaw, but he nodded. Clearly, our agreement had stuck. Whatever he didn’t like about Tarian was overruled by the fact that I’d gotten him out of a sticky situation. And, just maybe, he was starting to trust me to navigate Enchanted Penitentiary on my own.
“Good morning,” Tarian said as I slid into the seat next to him. He arched an eyebrow over my shoulder, presumably at Gage. “You’ve gotten a permission slip to visit the bad side of the tracks, I see.”
“I don’t need a permission slip,” I retorted, even though that’s more or less what had happened.
“You hungry?” Tarian said smoothly, pushing forth his tray. His face looked better than it had previously; the bruises from whatever scrape he’d gotten in were healing, his skin almost back to a smooth alabaster. His eyes gleamed.
“Not especially,” I said truthfully. He studied my face a beat too long.
“You look exhausted.”
Goddess, there really was no hiding fatigue around here, was there? I’d kill for some cosmetic charms to fix this mess up. “I didn’t sleep well.”
“Join the club.”
I shook my head. “No, I mean...I’ve been having these visions. Of the night my friend died.”
“Mm.” Tarian sipped his cinnamon wine. “Sounds like stress.”
“No, it’s not. Because it’s not memory. It’s like...something that happened, but that I don’t remember. It’s just filtering back to me in random bursts.”
Tarian put down his mug. “That sounds like a memory to me.”
“It’s not,” I insisted. “it’s different. It’s too clear and specific. I think it’s trying to tell me something.”
“Which is?”
“I don’t know,” I said, exasperated. “I mean...ultimately, that I have to find whoever killed her. I feel like I must be getting closer. I have to.” I involuntarily balled up my fist on the table. “I’m going to get justice for April.”
Tarian burst out laughing.
“Hey!” I said, glaring at him, my skin hot. “What the hell?”
“I’m sorry,” he said, calming down, although his lips still curved. “It’s just...justice is not worthwhile, Petal Pink.”
“What is that supposed to mean? Of course it is.”
Tarian shook his head. “You really think you can get justice for your friend the same way her parents think they got justice for her? By throwing you in here and blaming you?”
“Well, no...” I admitted. I wasn’t really sure what I was going to do once I figured out who’d actually killed April—or how I was going to figure it out at all, short of just having more visions—but I realized that yeah, I’d probably just report the guy (or girl) to the authorities.
Which...yeah, Tarian was right. They weren’t exactly helpful. Now that I’d seen it from the inside, I wasn’t so invested in this whole system.
“Okay, fine. But what else am I supposed to do?”
“You have to give up on the rules, Emerald,” Tarian said, and the sound of my actual name on his breath made me shiver. “The laws aren’t going to help you. They haven’t helped you until now and there’s no promise of future help. You have to just look out for number one now.” He let out a short breath. “If you want my help, to be part of my plan, you have to understand that much.”
“I...” I didn’t know what to say. “I think I do.”
“You understand,” Tarian said, his voice painfully low and raspy now, “that anything we do, no matter our tactics, and ultimately no matter our own justifications, to escape from here will be a crime.” He pushed aside a lock of hair to stare at me. “So you’re innocent now. But as soon as we commit an escape, you are no longer fully innocent.”
My breath caught in my throat. I hadn’t thought about that. But yeah, if I took part in a prison break, it would be pretty hard to describe myself as innocent ever again.
“You’re too close with your guardsman.”
Tarian’s voice jolted me out of my thoughts. “What?”
“You heard me. It seems like you’re getting close to actually trusting him. If you don’t already.”
I felt my face flame. “I think I should trust him, given that he’s, like, in charge of keeping me safe.”
Tarian sighed dramatically. “What were we just talking about, Petal Pink? Think it through. You’re a criminal and he’s the law. It’s not going to work. Whatever you’re cooking up.”
“I’m not cooking anything up,” I shot back. “For your information, I’ve known Gage since we were kids.”
“Gage?” Tarian cocked his head, amused. “So we’re on a first-name basis now, are we?”
“Don’t ‘we’ me,” I said, annoyed. “Look, I don’t know what a guardsman ever did to you, but—”
“I’d be happy to share,” Tarian said. “You know who my guardsman was when I first came in here?”
“I...no.” I shut my mouth, my curiosity getting the better of me. Tarian nodded across the room, to where a sharp-faced Azelorian stood as one of the two guardsmen flanking the doors out.
“Your boy’s closest friend,” he said.
“Cobalt?” I said, making a face reflexively.
“The very same,” Tarian said, “and I take it you think about as highly of him as I do.”
“I mean...I don’t think I like him much,” I admitted. “But Gage sticks up for him, so I figured maybe he just takes the job like, super seriously.”
“I’ll say,” Tarian said, rubbing his jaw.
Ugh. I was not here for him to be so freakin’ cryptic right now. “What do you mean, Tarian? Spit it out.”
Maybe it was the boldness of me saying his name out loud—even though he’d given me permission—but Tarian turned serious. “He’s violent. Sadistic, almost. Their job when they guard us after intake is to keep us physically safe, and Cobalt beat the shit out of me any chance he got. I don’t know what his problem is, although I presume it’s something to do with my family and...situation.”
I wasn’t fully following. “Like he hates you for being a prince?”
“The murders of my family were a disgrace to the Azelorians,” Tarian murmured. “Their job is to keep the royal family and courtiers safe, after all. So many deaths on their watch was beyond shameful. The worst shame in history—that, I agree with them on. Where we differ is on who’s ultimately at fault. They think it’s me and...I know it’s not.”
He blew out a hard breath, visibly fighting for composure. It felt like the first
time I’d seen Tarian anything other than cool and sarcastic. So much more was there, concealed beneath the smooth and easy demeanor.
Reflexively, without even meaning to, I reached for his hand.
His eyes latched onto mine.
Then he pulled away.
“But it’s not for me to say, I guess, whatever grudge they have.” He shrugged, retreating to his who-gives-a-shit attitude. “And who knows how Cobalt spun it back to his superiors, but I’d have to assume that it doesn’t paint me very kindly. At least to judge by your own dear guardsman’s opinion of me. Not that any of them would think much of me to begin with.”
Cautiously, I peered over my shoulder, to where Gage was standing, hands clasped at the small of his back, head high and back straight. He wasn’t looking at me directly, but I had to think that he could see what I was up to. What was it like for him to see me with Tarian, who he thought was so violent, a criminal who liked to dishonor all that he stood for?
“No, I’m not being fair.”
I turned around as Tarian sat up, clearing his throat.
“I did start it, in the first place,” he went on. “I was very, very angry when I first got here. I’m sure you can sympathize.”
I could. But I didn’t let it make me hurt anyone.
“So that was stupid, I’ll admit. And yes, I’ve been known to exercise some magical liberties now and again. But don’t think I don’t get my comeuppance for those little violations later. Usually administered by Cobalt.”
My mind was turning, puzzle pieces locking together. “Wait a minute. So when we talked, in the infirmary...”
Tarian pursed his lips, folded his hands. Didn’t meet my eyes.
“I had just been punished for my little performance in here, yes.”
I shivered. I didn’t dare glance at Cobalt, but I could practically feel the chill of his presence nonetheless. So Tarian had acted out with his magical shiv, or whatever, that day in the cafeteria when Delilah started a fight, and then Cobalt took it on himself to kick the crap out of him afterward. I thought about what I’d see of Tarian that day in the hospital: bruises, lacerations, the works.
“So you’ll forgive me if I don’t share your trust for the Azelorians,” Tarian finished. “It’s just...complicated.”
“No freakin’ kidding,” I whispered. I wasn’t as good at using the casualness to shrug off tension. That must be a skill you get when you’re raised in a royal palace.
The breakfast bell rang, and I felt like I was floating, still surreal, as I got back up. Almost like I was back in my vision of LA. Of the night April died.
But before I could walk from the table, Tarian caught me by the wrist.
“Whatever happens, Emerald, remember, they’re not all as noble as they claim to be.”
He held me a moment longer, until someone gripped my shoulders.
“Let her go,” Gage’s voice said from behind me. He spoke evenly, tautly, as though it took everything in his power not to scream.
Tarian released me and nodded. “As you wish.”
Gage was silent the whole walk back to my cell.
Chapter Eighteen
WHEN WES WALKED INTO the room to begin another session of Citizenship class, the vague fears I’d been feeling the past few days became abundantly real. Because each seat was filled. Aside from one.
Hammer’s.
When I’d brought up class at the administrative hearing and one of the voices promised they’d review the last session, I’d felt like maybe I fucked up big time. I hoped that nothing would come of it. At the time, voicing a little bit of discontent felt like a risk worth taking. When was I actually going to get the ear—or crystal?—of anybody important again? Now, I knew it for sure—I’d maybe fucked up even worse than I’d realized.
Maybe it’s just a coincidence. He could be sick or something. Nah. Come on, Em, you know much better than that. After all, Hammer was the only one in the class who called out the warden by name—or by title, whatever.
The best I could hope was that maybe he was just getting a talking to, and not—well, something much worse.
And I definitely wasn’t the only one to notice Hammer’s absence. It was hard not to notice that the giant guy who usually sat in the front row of desks was missing. Wes didn’t have the same smile on his face that he normally would either. If something had happened, maybe he already knew. Maybe he himself already got a warning.
I wasn’t going to be the one to ask any questions about that. After all, I was probably the idiot responsible for this.
“Good morning,” Wes greeted us soberly. He walked to the chalkboard ready to write down some new word we were supposed to focus on in big letters. But he could hardly draw a single line before the comments began rolling in.
“Looks like somebody’s missing,” Randolph the gnome observed loudly. “Shouldn’t we be waiting for him before we get started? I wouldn’t want him to miss anything!”
Gnomes, among other things, were known for their sarcasm. Randolph was no exception.
Wes put the chalk down and turned to face the class. He was still searching for what he wanted to say.
“Is this because he was talking shit about the warden?” Katinka asked. “Did you snitch on him, Wes? You don’t seem like a snitch, but you can never really tell these days.”
Wes shook his head. “This classroom, as far as I’m concerned, is a safe space. I would never report anything we discuss here unless I thought one of you was in immediate physical danger. My philosophy is that what happens in this room stays in this room.”
“So you’re saying you didn’t rat him out?” Katinka pressed him. “Do you swear?”
“I swear.”
That seemed to satisfy her. For now.
“That’s one thing,” Randolph said, “but you still didn’t tell us if you know where Hammer is. Just because you didn’t snitch on him doesn’t mean somebody else didn’t. There’s plenty of quiet types in here. What about that one who killed her best friend?”
That threw me off guard and hit me like a punch in the gut. So far being quiet and keeping a low profile had seemed like the best strategy of survival in the penitentiary. But I’d failed to realize that saying almost nothing in class could also make me look shady—as if killing my best friend didn’t make me shady enough in the first place.
For the first time, all eyes in the room were on me. It wasn’t clear what I was supposed to say to defend myself. So I just went with the obvious.
“I’m not a fucking snitch!” I said. “I’m just as pissed about this place as the rest of you.”
That was all true. But the fact of the matter was that I had kind of told on Hammer. Not by name or anything and certainly not on purpose. But I was naive enough to think that complaining might not have any ramifications. Never in my life had I felt like more of a spoiled brat.
“I’ve got my eye on you either way,” Katinka threatened. “That goes for all of you who don’t speak up in class!”
“Easy, everybody!” Wes called out. “We don’t need to be throwing any blame around here. I’ll just add that I was informed by the administration earlier this morning that Hammer wouldn’t be joining us today. I was told they were uncertain if he’d be attending any future classes. But I wasn’t given any reason to believe that this was because of something he said in one of our sessions. There’s a good chance his case is being reviewed or he’s fallen ill. That’s all.”
A Fae man who looked to be in his thirties with spiky yellow hair scoffed. I didn’t recall his name or what his story was. “Oh please. I’ve only been here a few weeks, but that’s long enough to know that they don’t review anybody’s cases here.”
“Exactly,” Blossom echoed. “That’s one of the reasons we’re all so upset in the first place. The system is rigged against us.”
Wes raised his palms. “I’m right here with you guys. I’m on your side, remember. I’ll be keeping Hammer in my thoughts. He made for such a bright, pos
itive presence here in the classroom. Let’s all hope he returns in good time, yes?”
And even as he went on to give us a nice little lecture about the ways we can eventually make amends with the people we’ve wronged, Hammer’s absence was felt.
I just hoped nothing terrible was happening to him.
“SO JUST HOW MANY BOYFRIENDS do you have, Em? Be straight with me.”
Delilah and I—perhaps feeling overly confident after successfully frying a small amount of food—were being a bit more adventurous in the kitchen this time around. We’d found a bag of something that looked like mozzarella sticks in the freezer and decided to try and cook them up. Would they be as delicious as mozzarella sticks? 100% no. But it was worth a try.
“We’ve been over this,” I told her, staring intently at the basket in the frying oil. I wasn’t going to let these babies burn up. “I don’t have any boyfriends. And I’m not going to have one for a long time. Probably. To be determined.”
She shook her head. “I see the way they are with you. Tarian totally has the hots for you. He wants you to be his princess. His queen! I mean, if he doesn’t end up executed. If we...you know, succeed. But that Gage guy. Oof. The stares he gives you could send a shiver down any woman’s spine. He wants to rip your clothes off. Badly. Didn’t you say you were friends when you were kids?”
“Yeah. Well, our families were friends but we spent a lot of time together. I guess we were closer than I thought.”
She put her hand to her heart. “How romantic! Pining after you all these years! And now you’re reunited here in the shittiest place on the planet. Think of how long that lust has been bottled up! He could just explode, I bet!”
“I...don’t think he’s been pining after me.” That was at least a half-lie, but whatever.
She snorted. “Of course he has, how else do you explain it?”
“Explain what?”
Delilah rolled her eyes. “Before you got here, he was one of the most miserable guards in the whole penitentiary. Like a lost puppy dog. Honestly, he looked more bummed to be here than the prisoners, really. If you ask me, he seemed pathetic. Not sexy at all! I can’t be attracted to any man I pity!”