Part of me wants to laugh at our predicament. Again, I am side by side with Cal in a cell, waiting for whatever fate has in store for us. But this time, my fear is tempered by anger. It won’t be Maven coming to gloat, but the Colonel, and for that I’m terribly thankful. Maven’s taunts are not ones I ever want to suffer again. Even the thought of him hurts.

The Bowl of Bones was dark, empty, a deeper prison than this. Maven stood out sharply, his skin pale, eyes bright, his hands reaching for mine. In the poisoned memory, they flicker between soft fingers and ragged claws. Both want to make me bleed.

I told you to hide your heart once. You should have listened.

They were his last words to me, before he sentenced us to execution. I wish it hadn’t been such good advice.

Slowly, I exhale, hoping to expel the memories with my breath. It doesn’t work.

“So what do we do about this, General Calore?” I ask, gesturing to the four walls holding us prisoner. Now I can see the slight outlines in the corners, the square blocks a bit darker than the rest, fixed right into the panels of the walls.

After a long moment, Cal pulls out of thoughts just as painful as mine. Glad for the distraction, he rights the other chair swiftly, pushing it against a corner. He steps up, almost banging his head on the ceiling, and runs a hand over the Silent Stone. It’s more dangerous to us than anything on this island, more damaging than any weapon.

“By my colors, how did they get this?” he mutters, his fingers trying to find an edge. But the stone lies flush, perfectly embedded. With a sigh, he jumps back down and faces the observation window. “Our best chance is breaking the glass. There’s no getting around these in here.”

“It’s weaker, though,” I say, staring at the Silent Stone. It stares right back. “In the Bowl of Bones, I felt like I was suffocating. This is nowhere near that bad.”

Cal shrugs. “Not as many blocks here. But still enough.”

“Stolen?”

“They have to be. There’s only so much Silent Stone and only the government can use it, for obvious reasons.”

“That’s true . . . in Norta.”

He tilts his head, perplexed. “You think these came from somewhere else?”

“There are smuggled shipments coming in from all over. Piedmont, the Lakelands, other places too. And haven’t you seen any soldiers down here? Their uniforms?”

He shakes his head. “No. Not since that red-eyed bastard marched me in yesterday.”

“They call him the Colonel, and he’s Farley’s father.”

“I’d feel sorry for her, but my family’s infinitely worse.”

I scoff, half-amused. “They’re Lakelanders, Cal. Farley, and the Colonel, and all his soldiers. Which means there’s more where they came from.”

Confusion clouds his face. “That—that can’t be. I’ve seen the battle lines myself; there’s no way through.” He looks at his hands, idly drawing a map in midair. It makes no sense to me, but he knows it intimately. “The lakes are blockaded on both shores; the Choke is out of the question completely. Moving goods and stores is one thing, but not people, not in this magnitude. They’d have to have wings to get across.”

My breath rushes inward, as fast as my realization. The concrete yard, the immense hangar at the end of the base, the wide road leading to nowhere.

Not a road.

A runway.

“I think they do.”

To my surprise, a wide, genuine grin breaks across Cal’s face. He turns to the window, peering out at the empty passage. “Their manners leave a lot to be desired, but the Scarlet Guard are going to cause my brother a lot of headaches.”

And then I’m smiling too. If this is how the Colonel treats his so-called allies, I’d love to see what he does to his enemies.

Dinnertime comes and goes, marked only by a grizzled old Lakelander carrying a tray of food. He motions for both of us to step back and face the far wall, so he can slide the tray through a slit in the door. Neither of us responds, stubbornly standing our ground by the window. After a long standoff, he marches away, eating our dinner with a grin. It doesn’t bother me in the slightest. I grew up hungry. I can handle a few hours without a meal. Cal, on the other hand, pales when the food saunters off, his eyes following the plate of gray fish.

“If you wanted to eat, you should’ve told me,” I grumble, taking my seat again. “You’re no use if you’re starving.”

“That’s what they’re supposed to think,” he replies, a bit of a glint in his eye. “I figure I’ll faint after breakfast tomorrow, and see how well their medics take a punch.”

It’s a shaky plan at best, and I wrinkle my nose in distaste.

“Do you have a better idea?”

“No,” I say, sullen.

“That’s what I thought.”

“Hmph.”

The Silent Stone has a strange effect on both of us. In taking away what we rely on most, our abilities, the cell forces us to become someone else. For Cal, that means being smarter, more calculating. He can’t lean on infernos, so he turns to his mind instead. Although, judging by the fainting idea, he’s not the sharpest blade in the armory.

The change in me is not so evident. After all, I lived seventeen years in silence, not knowing what power lingered within me. Now I’m remembering that girl again, the heartless, selfish girl who would do anything to save her own skin. If the Lakelander returns with another tray, he better be ready to feel my hands around his throat and, if we manage to get out of this cell, my lightning in his bones.