“Your name,” Cassandra whispered.
“What?” the old woman said, not bothering to lift her head.
“That’s all I want. For the tonic. Just tell me your name.”
“This some kind of Fae trick? I give you my name and then you control me, make me do whatever you want?”
“Fae can’t do that.”
“Can’t they?” the old woman murmured.
She remained silent for what felt like hours. So long that Cassandra thought she’d fallen asleep.
Cassandra placed the vial through the bars, about to give up and leave, when a small croak came from the pile of blankets.
“Ana.”
“What?” Cassandra whispered, afraid of scaring the woman back to silence.
“Ana,” she repeated, slightly louder. “My name is Ana.”
Cassandra bit back a thousand responses.That’s a beautiful name. Thank you for sharing it with me. I’m so sorry that this has happened to you. I’m not terrible, not likethem. Please don’t hate me.
But Cassandra’s guilty conscience was her own burden. Ana was already shouldering enough of her own.
So Cassandra pushed up off the floor, and left Ana to her peace.
As soon asCassandra stepped outside, all the grief she’d held back in Ana’s presence spilled over.
Silas pinched closed the leather journal he’d been drawing in and slipped it into his bag. “Well? How did it—” His brows crashed together when he saw her face. “That bad, huh?”
Cassandra swiped her wrist under her nose. “Why has no one tried to get themoutof there? To at least free them from these cages?”
“Where would they go?” Silas asked gently. “Back through the mists? Take their chances in the moat? Hide away in the houses of sympathetic prisoners? We’ve tried all of it. And when we’ve failed, who do you think suffers the most? Not the Fae, I assure you.”
Cassandra ran her fingers down her braid, trying to soothe her bleeding heart. She needed to calm down or she wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight. Would be a mess for training tomorrow.
“I just…” she breathed out. “I just don’t understand why the Brethren treat them like this.”
Silas let out a ragged sigh. “I don’t understand it either.” He reached out a hand and gripped her shoulder. “And I?—”
The cobbled street around them disappeared as the memory overtook Cassandra.
A lovely Windrider female in a soft peach dress sat in a cheery, sunlit kitchen. Auburn curls tumbled down her torso as she pitted cherries, singing softly toward her belly.
Cassandra, through Silas’s eyes, looked toward the bump and an arrow pierced her heart.
She was ripped through space and time, rainbow shards and strings of light swirling until she came to a jolting stop.
And was looking through a different pair of eyes.
Female eyes, though she didn’t quite understand how she knew that.
She was walking down a noisy, crowded avenue, arm-in-arm with another female.
She caught a glimpse of her reflection in a shop window—auburn waves, thick brows, dove gray wings—before pausing to examine a pair of shiny golden sandals.
Her friend tugged her arm. “Come on, Sofia. You donotneed another pair of shoes.” She lowered her voice. “Rebels need more sensible ones, anyway.”
