victor. In the chaos, his brethren took Laia away.”
“And then?” the Warden says. “Tell me the rest. Leave nothing out.”
I hesitate, because something about this seems wrong. The Warden stands, flings open the cell door, and calls for Tas. Footsteps patter, and a second later, he yanks Tas in by the scruff of his neck and puts his knife to the boy’s throat.
“You are correct when you say that you will soon die,” the Warden says. “This boy, however, is young and relatively healthy. Lie to me, Elias, and I show you his insides while he still lives. Now, I’ll say it again: Tell me everything that happened with the girl after the Fourth Trial.”
Forgive me, Laia, if I give away your secrets. I swear it’s not for nothing. I watch the Warden carefully as I speak about Laia’s destruction of Blackcliff, our escape from Serra, and all that happened after.
I wait to see if he reacts to my mention of Keenan, but the old man gives no sign that he knows any more about the rebel than what I’m telling him. My gut tells me his disinterest is genuine. What the bleeding hells? Perhaps Keenan isn’t working for the Warden. And yet from what Darin told me, it’s obvious that they are somehow communicating. Could they both be reporting to someone else?
The old man shoves Tas away, and the child cowers on the floor, waiting to be dismissed. But the Warden is deep in thought, methodically filing away relevant facts from the information I’ve given him. Sensing my gaze, he pulls himself from his musings.
“You had a question, Elias?”
An interrogator can learn as much from a statement as from a question. My mother’s words coming to aid me when I least expect it.
“The questions you asked Darin about Laia,” I say. “You don’t know their purpose. Someone else is pulling your strings.” I watch the Warden’s mouth, for that is where he hides his truths, in twitches of those dry, too-thin lips. As I speak, his mouth tightens almost imperceptibly. Got you. “Who is it, Warden?”
The Warden stands so quickly that he knocks his chair over. Tas quickly lugs it out of the cell. My chains loosen when the Warden yanks down the lever on the wall.
“I answered everything you asked of me,” I say. Ten hells, why am I even trying? I was a fool to think he’d honor his vow. “You’re not upholding your end of the bargain.”
The Warden pauses at the cell’s threshold, his face half-turned toward me, unsmiling. The torchlight in the hallway deepens the grooves in his cheeks and jaw. For a moment, it’s as if I can see the stark outline of his skull beneath.
“That’s because you asked who it is, Elias,” the Warden says. “Instead of what.”
XLV: Laia
Like so many nights before this one, rest is elusive. Keenan sleeps beside me, arm thrown across my hip, his forehead tipped down against my shoulder. His quiet breathing almost lulls me into dreams, but every time I get close, I jerk awake and fret anew.
Does Darin live? If so, and if I can save him, how will we make it to Marinn? Will Spiro be waiting there, as he promised? Will Darin even want to make weapons for the Scholars?
What of Elias? Helene might already have him. Or he might be dead, destroyed by the poison coursing through his body. If he does live, I do not know if Keenan will help me save him.
But I must save him. And I cannot leave the other Scholars either. I cannot abandon them to be executed in the Commandant’s purge.
They’ll begin tomorrow evening. At sundown, Keenan said of the executions. A bloody gloaming then, and bloodier still as twilight fades to night.
I ease Keenan’s arm away and roll to my feet, pulling on my cloak and boots and slipping out into the cold night.
A nagging dread steals over me. Keenan’s plan is as unknowable as the inside of Kauf itself. His confidence offers some reassurance, but not enough to make me feel like we will succeed. Something about all of this just feels wrong. Rushed.
“Laia?” Keenan emerges from the cave, his red hair mussed, making him look younger. He offers his hand, and I wind my fingers through his, taking comfort from his touch. What a change a few months has wrought in him. I could not have imagined such a smile from the dark-visaged fighter I first met in Serra.
Keenan looks at me and frowns.
“You’re