than the day he’d first arrived in the prison.
Given the low crime rate, most of the cells in the building had been empty, allowing the nurses to bring in beds for the Rimians’ care. Much like the others who’d woken up before him, however, this guy wasn’t willing to talk much.
We’d been in his cell for the better part of an hour, trying to get some answers out of him. But he was determined to keep quiet, even though Valaine clearly terrified him. He jumped whenever she moved around his bed, as if she might poke him full of holes.
She repeated the question. “How many of you are there?”
I, for one, was in awe of Valaine. Usually timid and reserved, she’d unleashed the darker side of herself since the square incident. Even during the first attempt on her life she had not been as fierce as she was now. It probably had something to do with the Red Threads trying to hurt people she cared about, like Kalon, and maybe even Esme, whom I knew Valaine was genuinely fond of.
“I would sooner die than tell you anything, fanger,” the Red Thread replied, without so much as looking at her.
“Don’t say that twice. I might make it happen,” Valaine muttered.
“You will spend the rest of your life in prison, or worse,” I said to the Rimian. He seemed young enough to be worried about the prospect of growing old behind bars. Maybe that thought would persuade him to say something—it hadn’t worked on the others, though. What were the odds it would work on him? “You should do yourself a favor and cut a deal. I’m sure the Aeternae will consider leniency, perhaps a shorter sentence, if you cooperate.”
“Our mission is greater than whatever life I shall lead in prison,” the Rimian replied.
“Ah, what a poet this guy is,” I muttered, somewhat bored of the similar remarks I’d received so far from his colleagues. It was as if they’d all been trained according to the same manual, which included phrases to say in case of capture and interrogation. They were all reciting the same stuff, more or less. And I was losing my patience.
“He’s not going to talk.” Valaine sighed. “Let him meet the gallows, then. The empire does not take kindly to traitors who don’t cooperate.”
She walked out and made her way down the hallway. I followed her, while the guards locked the Rimian’s cell. Valaine was not just more assertive, she was also increasingly angry. At times, it seemed like she had trouble controlling her own reactions, especially where the Red Threads and the Darklings were concerned. I figured her patience was running thin, too, but I had a feeling that there was something else bothering her, somewhere beneath the surface.
“What can I do to help?” I asked as we walked toward the main exit. The double doors were open, held back with heavy brass stoppers. Officers of the law moved in and out, some carrying the occasional disorderly character—usually an Aeternae who’d gotten into a street fight somewhere in the city’s western slums.
The law was particularly harsh on the non-Aeternae, from what I’d learned so far. The Rimians and the Naloreans got longer sentences, even though their lifespans were significantly shorter. The wily Aeternae got slaps on the wrist, for the most part, or a couple of nights in jail. Granted, in some serious cases, they were also stripped of their lands and fortunes.
“I don’t know what more you could do.” Valaine sighed. “You’re already doing so much.”
“Tell me. I want to help.”
“I’m aware.”
She glided down the steps and hurried up the main street. Vision-drawn carriages clicked and clacked along, carrying the elites to their various destinations. The shops were beginning to close for the day, as the evening stretched in dark blue across the city. Shutters rattled as they were pulled shut.
“Valaine, hold on,” I said, catching her wrist. It forced her to stop. When she turned around to face me, I saw tears in her eyes. It tore me apart to see her like this, and I knew it had to do with the Darklings and the attempts on her life. “Talk to me.”
“What else is there to say?” she replied, her voice trembling. “These Darklings want me dead, and they will stop at nothing until they get the job done. And I don’t want to die, Tristan. I don’t. I enjoy living too much…”
“You’re afraid,” I murmured, without letting go of her hand. She didn’t