Page 80 of The Starling and the Hatter

A noise of disgust escaped my throat.

He spared me one glance but didn’t speak. Maybe he couldn’t see me where I sat in the shadows of my cell.

“I’m curious,” I said after several minutes. “What comes next? I mean, if you succeed in opening your cell door, you’ll be free to run up the stairs and straight into the swords of the guards that I’m certain are keeping watch.”

“That’s the problem with you,” he said as he pushed his shoulder farther through the bars, trying to get the right angle. “You could never see beyond the obvious.”

“You mean I didn’t see people as nothing but potential coins? Is that what bothered you? I wasn’t creative enough to sell someone a restorative tonic one day and then a healing elixir the next after the tonic had made them sick?”

He had the nerve to chuckle. “That was rather brilliant, wasn’t it?”

“It was disgusting. You’re disgusting.”

“That may be, but—” He paused as the lock suddenly clicked and turned. Then he looked up at me with a dark grin. “It did give me the upper hand.” He stood and pushed the door open, then stepped into the corridor that separated our cells.

I was impressed despite myself, but I didn’t let it show on my face. Instead I arranged my face in an expression of boredom. “Good luck getting past the guards,” I said with heavy sarcasm.

“Like I said.” He approached the door of my cell. “You never see beyond the obvious.” He knelt and started trying to pick the lock of my own cell.

My heart flew into my throat. “What are you doing?” I asked, climbing to my feet.

“I’m taking back what you stole from me,” he said, shooting a dark look at the brooch at my neck.

I touched the piece of jewelry, then unfastened it, my panic making me think that if I just gave it to him, he would take it and go. But then my more rational self took over, and all I could think was that I had to keep him from unlocking that door.

“No.” I ran forward and pushed his hands away from the lock, but he just lashed out and grabbed my arm, pulling on it until the entire right side of my body slammed into the bars. I cried out in pain and struggled to free myself, but he held fast.

“See? You never see the bigger picture. Now give me the brooch and I’ll let you go.”

I knew that wasn’t true, so instead I screamed, hoping the guards would hear but worried that the walls were too thick.

He grabbed my hair with his other hand and pulled. I yelped but managed to hold my left hand as far from him as possible, still clutching the brooch.

“Give it to me!” he demanded, slamming the side of my head against the bars. A pained grunt escaped me, but as I struggled against his hold, I managed to reposition the brooch in my hand and plunge the large pointy pin into the back of his hand.

“Argh!” he roared, but he didn’t release me, so I stabbed at him over and over until he shoved me away from him.

I fell to the ground, my head throbbing and dizzy, the right side of my body aching, but with the brooch still clutched in my hand.

Daggon covered one hand with the other, holding it to his chest as he growled and glared at me.

I scrambled farther back.

Daggon bent to retrieve the tools from where they’d dropped on the ground.

As I tried to clear the dizziness from my head, Morley’s voice cut through the air. “You’re causing more trouble for yourself, Dag.” It was said calmly, as if he didn’t care if Daggon heeded his warning but he felt obliged to give it anyway. At least he wasn’t cheering him on.

Daggon ignored him and kept trying to get into my cell.

I screamed more, hoping a guard might hear. I didn’t dare get close enough for him to grab my arms or head again, but the screaming increased the pain in my head, and the guards weren’t coming.

Perhaps I could stab him with the brooch again, but I’d barely gotten away the first time. I just needed to keep him from unlocking the door.

An idea struck me and I stepped close, but not too close, and raised my foot, kicking at the door where the lock was. I didn’t hit his hands, but I hoped that jostling the lock enough would disrupt his careful work. Lock-picking took precision. So I kicked out.

Not just once or twice, but over and over I kicked at it, pleased to realize that not only did it frustrate his work, but it also caused an even louder racket than my screaming had. The sound of clanging metal thrummed through the whole dungeon.

Daggon tried to grab at my foot but couldn’t catch it, so I just kept kicking. I was getting tired and my head was pounding by the time a “HEY!” rang through the dungeon from above.