Chapter 1 #2
A signal was given to a guard in the tower, then another guard appeared and the prisoners were guided off the vessel as a flash of lightning lit the sky.
They all shuffled forward to a cross-barred gate, then through an opened iron door, the warmth inside as soothing as a hot bath.
Scarlen figured the light was witch magick, like they had at the palace, as fire sconces might pose a problem in a prison.
The guards wore a navy uniform with silver buttons, their lightning rod on show, secured to their side along with a bunch of keys in a brown belt that matched their shoes. Each guard had their name stitched into the top left side of their blazer.
A guard unchained the prisoners, leaving the magickal ones with their Rings on, then pointed to another doorway. ‘Remove your cloaks. Step this way.’
The room had pale-pink walls and a brown rug covering most of the dark polished floor. A slight waft of disinfectant filled the air, and black wording by another door said ‘Admissions’.
Scarlen was searched by a female guard who was efficient when it came to rummaging around in her long plait, which used to be twice the length before she’d run away from home and cut some.
Her ears were checked, nose, and mouth, then she was told to go into the next room, which looked the same as the last.
‘Name?’ asked the guard, sitting behind a bolted steel desk.
She was stuck with it for now, so replied, ‘Scarlen Smithson.’
He glanced up. ‘When you address a guard, you say sir or miss, unless it’s the warden, then you say Warden Cardell.’ The education was given casually and with little expression.
‘Yes, sir.’ She paused. ‘Would it be possible for me to see Warden Cardell?’
That widened his eyes. ‘Friend of yours?’
‘No, sir. I wanted to go over my case with him.’ Let him know who I am.
A snigger jabbed her way. ‘We’re not the courthouse. This is prison. Your case has been well and truly dealt with. So, no, you won’t be seeing the warden.’
‘I can’t even get a message to him?’
He looked at her as though she were stupid. ‘No.’
‘But—’
‘Do you have any tattoos, major scars, or birthmarks anywhere on your body?’
She glanced at the faint ring mark, lighter than her pale skin, surrounding her wedding finger. ‘Just this birthmark.’
He made a note. ‘You’re to have a shower, your clothes will be taken, and you’re to put on a prison uniform.
You’re in Green Block Two, so your uniform will be green.
It’s against the rules to wear the wrong colour for your block, so if you’re ever cold and an Amber offers their sweatshirt, decline. Understand?’
She didn’t understand why she would be around an Amber but nodded anyway. ‘Yes, sir.’
He waggled his quill at a door. ‘Through there.’
A female guard led her down a narrow stairway of worn stone to a shower chamber and told her to strip and release the tie holding her braid.
Scarlen noticed the name badge said Miss Goolan before she perused the sterile grey surroundings as she got on with the task, then she took the bar of white soap offered and stood beneath the small dark hole in the ceiling, expecting a cold welcome to prison.
A spray of warm water was somewhat surprising, causing her to blurt her thoughts before thinking. ‘Ooh, I thought it would be freezing.’
Miss Goolan’s face fell flat, even her sharp cheekbones didn’t move. ‘What, because we’re all bastards here?’
Dionne entered the shower to Scarlen’s side as the guard gathered their clothing to shove into a cloth sack.
‘The water is syphoned from the bay, then warmed so inmates can’t condition their bodies to match the cold temperature of the bay to aid escape.
’ She tapped the side of her head. ‘There’s always method in the madness here. ’
Seeing as Scarlen had no intention of escaping, and figured her father had to find her soon, she appreciated the warm trickling water defrosting her slim body.
Thoughts drifted back to the judge at the sentencing.
Panic had rushed Scarlen, and in that moment she had declared her truth, but the judge wasn’t having any of it by that time, accusing her of fibbing and adding an extra week to the sentence for insulting the king.
As if Princess Adoria stood in her dock.
But she had. And had she been honest when first arrested, she would be slipping into her yellow silk pyjamas instead of a forest-green tracksuit. At least she felt cosy.
‘Follow me.’ Miss Goolan led the women to a table lined with green clothing and brown trainers. ‘Take nightwear, underwear, footwear, and one mat wear.’
‘Mat wear?’ questioned Scarlen, perusing the items.
‘Shorts and a t-shirt.’ Miss Goolan gestured at the tight brown bun at the back of her head as she offered Scarlen back her hair tie. ‘Best to have short hair in here. Harder to tug. You might want to think about a bun.’
Scarlen took the band and started to braid her damp hair. Her preferred style. ‘Why are the shorts and t-shirts called mat wear?’
‘They’re for sparring days.’ Miss Goolan placed a piece of paper on top of the pile of clothes Dionne held. ‘This is your timetable. You’ll soon get used to everything, but where it says jobs you’ll be in the silent system for the first month, so you can ignore that.’
Scarlen gathered some clothing, not understanding much of what was said or why she would be required to spar with someone, then glanced at the piece of paper placed on her pile to see wake-up times, lessons, mat time, and family time among the weekly schedule.
Family time? Who would visit her?
‘Quick psychological evaluation, then dinner, and as it’s late, you’ll go straight to your cell.’ Miss Goolan led her to another room, this one small with hardly any light.
A wrinkly woman with gaunt eyes rolled an orange ball across a steel desk before Scarlen had a chance to sit. ‘Eat that.’
Scarlen picked up the hard item, giving it the once-over before rolling it back. ‘You peel it, and I’ll eat it.’
A wolfish smile flashed, then Scarlen was told to leave.
Having little to say about how her state of mind was assessed, she simply waited outside by Miss Goolan until Dionne was ready to leave.
They were taken to an empty canteen and given a metal spoon and a hearty meal of chicken stew.
‘If you don’t return the spoon, you’ll be punished, likely taken to the pillory or a dark cell. No excuses, so always mind your spoon in here.’ Miss Goolan went over to the large barred windows to watch the splashing of rain against the panes.
Whatever a dark cell was, it didn’t sound pleasant.
Thunder met the sky at the same time as lightning, but Scarlen paid attention to her food, enjoying the feeling of a settled and full stomach once more as a couple of the other prisoners who had arrived on the boat with her came in to eat.
Dionne gasped quietly as the courtyard lit up from the storm. ‘That’s Bear Vyer.’
Scarlen followed her eyeline to see a young man locked in a metal frame upon a post, his hands and head poking out of wooden holes, and legs limp, no doubt from standing too long.
He was drenched from black hair to amber tracksuit bottoms, his pale muscular chest laid bare.
A white Ring around his neck. ‘Who’s he? ’ she whispered.
‘Since his mother died, the leader of the Rebels, I guess. Poor bastard. He was forced to watch his mother take one hundred lashes, then left tied for a week before they burned her alive. King’s orders.’
Surely not. Hanging was execution. Scarlen knew all too well how cruel her father could be. She’d been at the receiving end of his coldness many a time, but the law was the law. ‘That’s illegal.’
‘Word is, the king hated the leader of the Rebels more than anyone. They want him off the throne, don’t they?
And the king’s not a fan of shapeshifters.
Says they’re troublemakers, but we shouldn’t worry, as there aren’t many of them left.
Bear’s got ten months left until his twenty-third birthday. ’
‘Why is he out there?’
‘Probably got into a fight. Better the pillory than a dark cell.’ Dionne slurped up the last of her meal. ‘Best not to make eye contact with that one. He seems to hate everyone except his own.’
Scarlen had already decided to stay out of his way. If he found out who she was, she’d be dead in seconds. Her heart was pumping way too fast just being on the other side of the window from him. Good thing he was Amber. At least he wouldn’t be in her block.
They handed back their empty bowls and made sure their spoons were counted, then walked in single file by the windows to leave.
Even though Scarlen had been warned not to look at Bear, part of her couldn’t help but check out the man who had planned to kidnap her.
The lightning flashed, and his glare met her stare, making her jump, and she wasn’t sure if it was the storm or if he actually had silver eyes.
Fuck! He looked more like a statue than a man, his jaw chiselled, cheekbones carved.
She lowered her head, hoping he hadn’t memorised her face.
With the rain so violent, it was possible he only saw movement within the canteen.
A few corridors later, and Scarlen was shown to her cell on the first tier of two, Dionne housed next door, their names on a small sign attached to the front bars.
The five-foot wide by eight-foot space had a single bed, small basin, toilet behind a low wall, and one shelf with a palm-sized square mirror perched on top.
The back wall was concrete, painted pale green, and the sides were steel.
The only light came from the balcony outside that overlooked a wide aisle that made the female unit of Green Block Two.