12

Bright light glared through Sabi’s closed eyelids as sleep melted away. She turned into soft pillows and a plush comforter, not wanting to get up. Such an awful dream. She lay in bed for a moment, listening to the sounds of the city outside her window. Except there was nothing. Silence. Her eyes popped open and she bolted up, breathing hard. She was nowhere near home.

Clusters of hair in her lap, the domed sunroom, the drink and the weird, swirling girl who served it. It all came rushing back in a horrifying flood of memory that made her crash back down onto the bed, her fists slamming into the fluff next to her. That hit was nowhere near satisfying.

The bed was, no doubt, far bigger than the cot in her cell. At least a queen, complete with a thick white comforter that snuggled around her. It made her want to light it on fire and dance in its ashes. Tiny feathers fluttered down and one landed on her cheek. It settled there for a second before she slapped it away and bit the inside of her cheek to keep from yelling.

Over her head swirling vines of wrought iron climbed up the wall. Everything around her was white, including the wardrobe, end tables, and vanity. It was something out of either a little girl’s room or an insane asylum.

When she turned her head there wasn’t anything she could do to keep the awe from her face. A window as wide as the room itself let in the sun through sheer curtains. Sabi pushed the blanket off and swung her legs over the bed. When they touched softness she jerked and looked down to see white fur under her feet.

She walked to the window and pulled the curtain aside. For the first time Sabi got a good hard look at the world outside the walls, and not just in fleeting glimpses. The sun cast thick rays over the tops of the trees like a blanket, washing out the world in light. Afternoon sun. It loomed harsh in the corner of the window, creeping slowly west. That meant she was facing south. Where she was born. The plain in front of her stretched on forever with trees speckling the edge of the horizon.

Sabi turned away from the window and tried to brush the thoughts away, but she couldn’t shake the thrum at the back of her head nor the sound of the ocean in her ears. Water crashing into the shore was a white noise in her head. Maybe she was just remembering Coney Island. That had to be it.

Movement caught her eye and she turned to see a mirror. A gaunt wraith stared back where her face should have been.

The Sabi she left in New York had a thick head of curly black hair, browned skin, and cheeks full enough to get pinched by the neighbors way more often than she liked. This Sabi that stared back at her was a husk of a person about to get whisked away by the wind. Her hair was gone, a shining corpse-gray cue ball in its place. Her eyes were dull and rimmed with faded bruises. Caved in cheeks added unneeded hollows and cracked, scabbed lips rounded out the look. How did anyone last in the dungeons? The difference between living and surviving.

With every blink her face was replaced with Anya’s, another haunting specter. Now they looked more like twins. A knot of tears tied up her throat and she could barely swallow. Her dark eyebrows were stark against her pale skin and seemed to overwhelm her face. She never thought they were that big, but now that was all she could see, caterpillars crawling across her forehead.

Sabi’s mouth tasted fresh and she smiled at the reflection. It was a foreign taste after so long of nothing. It almost stung with the coolness of the mint. She stuck her tongue out and it was pink.

When she leaned back she noticed that she was no longer in her disgusting tunic but an actual nightgown, a blue one that touched the floor. She lifted the cuff to her nose and it smelled like grass and sun. Clean.

Her hands, while still riddled with cuts and scrapes, were also clean, the dirt crescents gone and her nails filed down to smooth, white half moons. With a swish Sabi brushed up the bottom of the nightgown and ran her fingers along her legs. Smooth. The overgrowth was finally gone. She’d been preened and prepped and molded into a halfway presentable creature fit for public consumption. Except she looked like death.

The door was wood with a handle, not steel and blank like the cell. One that made it look like she could get out. She was at the door in a couple strides, finely manicured fingers wrapping around the door handle. When she tugged, it didn’t so much as budge. She tried pushing and the door didn’t give.

She brought her other hand up and with all her strength she jerked on the handle. Over and over she pushed and pulled, screeching with the effort. Tears streaked down her cheeks when she finally stopped, her palms an angry red and the door still firmly in place.

A sob echoed around the room as she turned back to the window. She was clean, the room was comfortable, but it was still a prison.

The door clicked and Sabi whirled around to see it open. A soft knock pushed it farther and Cabal’s head popped around the wood. The rest of his body followed as the door swung wider, revealing a corridor behind him with people bustling by as if he wasn’t even there. Trays and fabrics flashed past before Sabi could focus on any of it.

Cabal ignored them too and stepped into the room. All at once she felt exposed in just her nightgown despite the fact that her old tunic showed far more. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest and waited for him to speak. He stared at her as if willing her to say something first, but he caved.

He pointed behind him at the door and said, “An unlocked door takes trust. They’re not going to trust a Crier they just pulled out of the pit.”

Sabi cleared her throat and blinked back the sting. “How long did it take you?”

“Years.”

“So they washed me?” Sabi asked, uncrossing her arms and motioning toward her polished skin and brand new mani-pedi. Not too many people could claim they had their first manicure as a prisoner.

Cabal nodded. “You need to be presentable. They didn’t do anything else.”

Sabi raised an eyebrow. “How reassuring.”

He stepped forward and gently gripped Sabi’s fingers. She looked at his hand, their fingers barely touching, and then looked back up at him.

“What are they going to do to me?” Her voice was watery and nearly drowned her.

He motioned to the bed and at first Sabi didn’t move. She didn’t want to have a casual conversation. She wanted answers, and she wanted to shake them out of him, but erred on the side of patience. She obviously wasn’t going anywhere and Cabal had already expressed his desire to help even before she got dragged up here. So she sat.

“We are their entertainment,” he said after a hard swallow. “We’re ornaments at their events.”

“What does that even mean?” Sabi asked, a frown on her face. “So, what? We’re just on display for . . .” It came to her in a slow realization, a duh moment finally making itself clear. The stamps. “They get high on us.”

Cabal nodded. “They dress us in awful clothes and put us on display. When it was just me sometimes there’d be fights. The one stamp wasn’t enough to cover the room. With the two of us, there’ll be enough for everyone.”

“How?”

“The ballroom is surrounded with mirrors. With two stamps they won’t be able to get away from it. You being there will increase the dosage,” he said.

Fear wrapped around Sabi’s heart. When she saw Cabal’s stamp it reached out to her, drew her in. She wanted to touch it. Run her fingers along it. Now it would be her, in the middle of a crowd wanting her to get them high.

Her eyes found his. “Will they be able to touch us?”

He shook his head vigorously. “We are things but we are Jeviar’s things. No one else is allowed to touch.”

Relief flooded through her, but it was short-lived. One little peace of mind in a sea of deadly waves was not enough.

“Where is Anya?” Sabi asked, changing the subject. “Is she okay?”

“Nothing happened to her,” he said. “She was returned to the cell.”

A little more relief was added to the pile. She couldn’t let anything happen to Anya, not because of her. It wasn’t her fault Sabi had this magic. She didn’t need to be punished for it if they thought Anya was helping her hide the stamp.

“I’ll see her again, right?” She’s never heard her voice sound so desperate.

Cabal cleared his throat. “Right now you must focus on you. It’s the best for both of you, for the plan. Make sure Jeviar is happy and you won’t be watched so closely.

It wasn’t a straight answer and it left a nagging feeling in the back of Sabi’s mind. Instead of pressing it further she simply nodded and watched him walk toward the door.

“You’re leaving?” she asked, hope fluttering at the edges of her words.

Hope for him to leave or stay, she wasn’t sure. At the moment being alone with her thoughts was probably the worse of the two options.

“We are,” he said. “It’s time to eat.”

He pointed to the side of her bed and Sabi followed his finger. Sitting on one of the plush white carpets was a dainty pair of slippers just waiting for her feet. When she stepped into them it was like walking on a cloud, her feet slowly sinking into the soles, cradled in support. For a second a smile almost hitched up the corners of her mouth until her brain reminded her she was a prisoner. Kidnapped. Her papa dead. Her family’s lives in her hands. Don’t get too comfortable, her head said.

The corridor outside her door was a congestion of people, servants’ hallways jam-packed with the help. A woman in a light blue dress, drab next to Sabi’s own but exquisite against her old tunic, rushed by with a basket of folded linen in her hands. Hair stuck to her face at her temples and a bead of sweat trickled down her cheek. Another woman came the opposite way, bumping into Sabi’s shoulder. Swatches of fabric were thrown over one arm and a line of glittering metal was crosshatched into her skirt at her thigh. In a couple of harried steps the woman was around the corner and out of sight.

Compared to the dome room these corridors were claustrophobic, dark stone breathing in on them as they walked on. It was a stark contrast to her bright white room. If she hadn’t looked out the window and seen the height for herself she’d think she was back underground with all the cold shadows.

Where Anya was. She had to let her know, somehow, that she was okay. They were still going strong. They were going to get out. Like a light bulb blaring to life Sabi remembered Cabal and his food delivery. Of course. He could easily get a note to her. Let Anya know she wasn’t forgotten. She wasn’t going to get left behind. The need to comfort Anya welled inside of Sabi like a craving scraping at her teeth. The thought of Anya burrowed into her head and wouldn’t leave. Couldn’t leave.

The din in the corridor opened up to soft, natural light cast about in streaks on the walls. They walked through a door into a brightly lit kitchen buzzing with people, the smell of baking stamping out the burn from the sconces in the corridor. Hunger growled in Sabi’s gut and Cabal chuckled. He might as well have flicked an exposed nerve.

“You’re the one that brings our food, if you want to call it that.” Sabi scoffed. “And you laugh when my stomach growls?”

Cabal cleared his throat and shifted his eyes down to his feet. “I’m sorry. You’re right. That was inappropriate.”

He looked cowed, staring at his fingers, and a pang of guilt rang in her heart. It wasn’t a loud gong, but noise enough to make her fidget a little. She wondered how much he actually interacted with people in any meaningful way. Whether he had any friends. Or whether, up here, he was just a thing. At least in the cell Sabi had Anya. Without her she’d probably start questioning just how human she was.

The silence between them didn’t last as a pot clanged and made them both jump. Cabal looked at her before turning away and leading them across the kitchen. They dodged around cooks kneading doughs, turning pans in the oven, chopping vegetables. Was this all for Jeviar and his minions? Criers didn’t even get the gunk scraped off the bottom of a horse trough. For someone who wanted to prolong the life of his Criers, Jeviar fed them like he wanted them to die.

Sabi bumped into Cabal’s back, not realizing he’d stopped. When she looked at him pink tinged his cheeks. He stepped aside and took a seat on a stool at an enormous butcher’s block. He motioned to the other side and she sat.

Laid out on the table in front of them was a feast, even compared back to New York. Bread so fresh it was still steaming sat on a plate. A side of ham glistened in the sunlight, its juices flowing around the meat. A bowl of fruit so fresh it looked plastic sat in the center. She hoped she wasn’t drooling.

She glanced quickly at Cabal who only had to nod before Sabi dove at the food. Ham juices bled onto bread as she stuffed it in her mouth. Nearly choking, she grabbed the water in front of her and took a swig to help the food down.

When she came up for air her eyes rolled open to look at Cabal who’d barely touched anything. Sabi frowned and he sighed and tossed down the piece of bread he wasn’t eating. She tried to speak but a chunk of bread clogged her mouth.

“What?” she asked after a hard swallow.

“They need to hide your bones before the display. You can’t go out there looking like you do.”

She put her fork down and pushed her plate away, suddenly not so hungry anymore.

“You must eat or they’ll force you. It’s easier this way.”

“How long do I have before the display?” A thick film coated her mouth and something sour burned the back of her throat.

“Week after next. We’ll be on parade then.”

The way he said it, like he was reading stereo instructions, was more unnerving than what was coming. Cabal relayed the information as if he were a robot, his eyes bored, the tone of his voice flat. Defeat rolled over his words, flattening them into lifeless slips of paper fluttering in the heat from the ovens. How many years did it take him to get to this point? Consigned to his fate. This is the road Cabal’s capture took him on. Anya traveled on the road overgrown with weeds and hiding snakes.

“Anya.” Sabi said the thought out loud and Cabal quirked an eyebrow.

“What about her?”

“Will you tell her about this?” she asked, pointing between them. “Where I am? That I’m okay.”

He offered a quick nod. “Of course.” His lips pursed, on the verge of saying something else, but he caught himself.

“Just say it,” she said, wondering if she would have to pull every piece of information out of him.

For someone who lived by deadpan, he was incredibly awful at hiding his feelings. Maybe it was just for those things he hadn’t deadened himself to.

His eyes shifted again, away from her face, gazing out the window. Looking over to the cooks. At the bread on his plate. “Now that you’re here, maybe we should just focus on us.” His voice was barely above a whisper and Sabi wasn’t sure she was hearing him right. “The risk is greater now with you two sep—”

“No.” It was a knife slicing across his words. “Leaving Anya behind isn’t an option. How could you even think that? Nothing’s changed!”

Cabal leaned over the table, crowding the food. “Things have changed. Now it’s two of us getting down there instead of one. The risk is too great. If it’s just us we can come back for her when we’ve reached South Fair.”

Sabi leaned back, disgust dripping from her face. “You expect me to believe that?”

“She would understand.”

“Would she? You know her so well?”

“Do you?” he countered, his eyes wide.

“I know enough not to destroy her hope. Jeviar couldn’t have deadened you that much that you’d run over someone else’s hope.”

He ran his hand over his face and stared at her. “I’m trying to be logical. Our chances are slim enough with just the two of us. I was barely able to get down to the cells on my own.”

“But you took that chance, didn’t you?” Sabi said, her eyebrow raised.

The beat of his stare was long and drawn out and Sabi shifted on the stool, growing more uncomfortable the longer he stared. “I did. I didn’t have a choice, not with you there.”

“You don’t have a choice now,” she said firmly, leaving no room for argument. “Without Anya you don’t have me. You don’t have me, you don’t get out. Did I make your choice easier?”

His eyes roved over her face and she picked apart a piece of bread on her plate, shifting her gaze between him and her fingers.

“Why do you care?” he asked. “Who is she to you?”

The answer rose to the surface like oil on water, swirling around in her consciousness, waiting to be scooped out. “She’s my friend. You still know what that is, right? Jeviar hasn’t beaten it out of you?” Cabal flinched but said nothing. “I didn’t get her hopes up about escape just to abandon her. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I did that. Can you not understand that?”

Cabal and Anya were both broken, just in different ways. Anya was a shell that one needed to crack to get through, and it was a hell of a shell to crack. Cabal was already fractured, pieces of his humanity slowly leaking out. She didn’t know which one was worse. Both were nearly lost.

“I understand escape more than anything,” Cabal said after a moment. “I’ll do what I need to do to get out.”

“And you can’t escape without me,” Sabi said. He shook his head. “That’s why you took the chances you did coming down to the cell when you found out about the stamp.” He was intensely interested in a piece of crust and didn’t look at her. “I get you want the highest chances possible of getting out of here.” She leaned over the table, mimicking his earlier move. “But I won’t let my friend suffer to get those odds. Her life’s not something to be thrown away.”

She was dancing on a dangerous line here. Cabal could rightly tell her to piss off, forget the whole thing. Let her find her own way out of the castle. But she didn’t think that’s how this would play out. Desperation was vivid in his glassy eyes. A muscle worked in his jaw. They were the key to each other’s success. One would fail without the other. She wanted to escape so bad she could taste it, but now that Anya was in her life, she wasn’t leaving her behind. This was her price. If Cabal wanted to use her, she would allow it, but Anya came too.

“Fine,” he said, lifting his eyes to finally look at her. Sabi sat up straight, trying to hide her smile. “But if I die my blood is on your hands.”

She shook her head and laughed, a dead little laugh that sounded like autumn leaves rustling. “No, it’s Jeviar’s hands that’ll be covered in blood. We’re dead if we stay, Cabal. How long do you think you can live like this? At least this way we’ll die trying, on our own terms.”

“Death is death,” he said, his voice a chilling rumble. “In the end it won’t matter.”