Even now, on the heels of his own death sentence, how is Cal stupid enough to worry about me?

“She’ll be watched,” Kilorn butts in, speaking for the first time since he entered my cage. His voice quivers, as it should. The coward has everything to be afraid of, including me. “Guarded. But not hurt.”

Distaste flickers across the Colonel’s face. I suppose he wants me dead too. Who could overrule him, I don’t know. Farley’s mysterious Command, perhaps, whoever they are.

“Is that what you’ll do to people like me?” I spit, feeling myself rise from my seat. “The newbloods? Are you going to bring Shade down here next and put him in a cage like some sort of pet? Until we learn to obey?”

“That depends on him,” the Colonel replies evenly, each word a cold kick in the gut. “He’s been a good soldier. So far. Just like your friend here,” he adds, putting one flat hand on Kilorn’s shoulder. He reeks of fatherly pride, something Kilorn’s been without. After so long an orphan, even a father as horrible as the Colonel must feel good. “Without him, I would’ve never had the excuse, or the opportunity, to lock you up.”

I can only glare at Kilorn, hoping my gaze hurts him as much as he’s hurt me. “How proud you must be.”

“Not yet,” the fish boy replies.

If not for our years in the Stilts, our many hours thieving and slinking like alley rats, I would’ve never seen it. But Kilorn is easy to read, for me at least. When he angles his body, simultaneously arching his back and shrugging his hips, it looks natural. But there’s nothing natural about what he’s trying to do. The bottom of his jacket sags, outlining the box holding the syringes. It slips dangerously, sliding between the fabric and stomach, faster and faster.

“Oh—” he chokes out, jumping from the Colonel’s grasp when the box springs free. It bursts open in midair, spitting needles as it falls. They hit the floor, shattering and spilling fluid across our toes. Most would think them all broken, but my quick eyes notice one syringe still intact, half-hidden by Kilorn’s curling fist.

“Dammit, boy,” the Colonel says, stooping without a thought. He reaches for the box, hoping to salvage something, but gets a needle in the neck for his trouble.

The surprise of it gives Kilorn the second he needs to squeeze, emptying the syringe into the Colonel’s veins. Like Farley, he fights, cracking Kilorn across the face. He goes flying, colliding with the far wall.

Before the Colonel can take another step, Cal explodes out of his chair and slams him against the observation window. The Lakelander soldiers look on helplessly from the other side of the glass, their guns ready but useless. After all, they can’t open the door. They can’t risk letting the monsters out of their cage.

The combination of the drugs and Cal’s dead weight knocks the Colonel out cold. He slides down the window, knees buckling beneath him, and slumps into a very undignified pile. With his eyes closed, he looks much less threatening. Normal, even.

“Ow” sounds from the wall where Kilorn stands, massaging his cheek. Drugged or not, the Colonel packs a mean punch. A bruise has already begun to form. Without thought, I take quick steps toward him. “It’s nothing, Mare, don’t worry—”

But I’m not coming to comfort him. My fist collides with the opposite cheek, knuckles knocking against bone. He howls, moving with the momentum of my punch, almost losing his balance altogether.

Ignoring the pain in my fist, I brush my hands together. “Now you match.” And then I embrace him, arms closing around his middle. He flinches, expecting more pain, but soon relaxes against my touch.

“They were going to catch you down here either way. Figured I’d do more good if I wasn’t in the cell next to you.” He heaves a sigh. “I told you to trust me. Why didn’t you believe it?”

For that, I have no answer.

At the observation window, Cal sighs aloud, drawing the attention back to the task at hand. “I can’t fault your bravery, but does this plan go much further than singing this sack of scum a lullaby?” He toes the Colonel’s body with a foot while jabbing a thumb at the window, indicating the guards still watching us.

“Just ’cause I can’t read doesn’t mean I’m stupid,” Kilorn says, a bit of an edge to his voice. “Watch the window. Should be any second.”

Ten seconds to be exact. We stare for exactly ten seconds before a familiar form appears, blinking into existence. Shade, looking much better than the brother I saw in the infirmary just this morning. He stands on his own two feet, with a brace on his injured leg and nothing more than bandages around his shoulder. He wields a crutch like a club, bashing both the guards before they get a chance to realize what’s going on. They drop to the floor like sacks of hammers, stupid looks on their faces.

The lock of the cell opens with a joyous echo, and Cal is at the door in a heartbeat, wrenching it open. He steps out into the air of the passage, breathing deep. I can’t follow him fast enough and sigh aloud when the weight of Silent Stone drops away. With a grin, I pull sparks to my fingers, watching them crackle and vein across my skin.

“Missed you,” I murmur to my dearest friends.

“You’re a strange one, lightning girl.”

To my surprise, Farley leans against her open cell door, the picture of calm. She doesn’t look at all affected by the drugs—if they had any affect at all.

“The benefit of befriending nurses,” Kilorn says, bumping my shoulder. “A nice smile was all it took to distract Lena, and slip something harmless into the box.”