10. Chapter Ten
Chapter ten
T he swooshing sound of my curtains being opened startles me from an unsettled sleep and my heart races as I try to locate the sound.
‘Time to roll,’ Bloss says from where she’s exposed the doors that open out to my small balcony. A groan is all I can muster in response as I see the still-night sky outside.
My sleep was fitful after Nix’s comments, and every time I thought I’d fall completely into sleep my stitches would pull – not to mention less than a handful of hours is simply not enough for me. But the importance of what I need to do is quick to make its way to the front of my sleep-fogged mind and the apprehension has me rising from the bed despite my exhaustion. Finding and gaining the trust of this Vanan prisoner was the last thing Claudius asked me to do.
Failing him is not something I can live with.
I pull on my exercise clothes, including a lightweight zip-through jacket. The temperature is never particularly cold here, but it does get a little chilly overnight – and it’s into the night we’re about to venture. Tying my running shoes, I try to push aside the concern that pulses on the edges of my mind that even approaching Vana prison is forbidden, let alone trying to engage their prisoners.
Yet that’s exactly what we’re planning – to find the Warden’s contact at the other prison and ask her not only to find a way to escape Nuntania’s most notorious prison-island on her own, but with Nix and River as well. After I have helped them complete what they came here for, ideally. Because I know in my bones they will refuse to go if they haven’t. Even more ideally, they should escape in a way that doesn’t jeopardise Traelen finalising either my supposed ‘extension’ and therefore legitimate way off the island – or my recommendation – or implicate Blossom.
And I have no idea what Quillian’s position is on people who break rules. I once thought Claudius the most dutiful of men, yet here I am at his request; and River had the route, time, and place all ready to hand …
We slip quietly down the stairs that run the wall of the prison and back onto the soft grass of the staff garden. Crossing the green expanse at a jog, we ease through the surrounding hedge and out into the forest beyond. Winding through the short forest, the skitter of creatures ripples away from our footsteps. The light provided out here comes from each of our phones – their screens projecting a soft illumination bright enough to catch the tops of our shoes as they stride over the dirt path.
‘I’ll kill the Warden if she’s a total madwoman,’ Bloss whispers into the dark.
‘Which one?’
‘The old one. I’ll dig him up and kill him again.’
My laugh feels morbid. ‘Tricky to do when his ashes were scattered off the island,’ I say.
‘Seriously, though. Who was she to him, do you think?’
‘I’m hoping we’ll find out. But I trust neither he, nor Nix and River, would send us anywhere dangerous.’
‘Apart from a prison for the worst citizens of Nuntainia, you mean?’
I let that question hang in the crisp air.
The path starts to widen slightly and breaks into another clearing. The whole island is a collection of clearings and paths in the forest, three of which are taken up by the grounds of the two prisons and the Warden’s residence.
But this is as far as we are supposed to go. This is where the prohibited gathering between staff sometimes happens. The middle ground between each of our domains. No one has ever tried particularly hard to stop them, as far as I’m aware, but those gatherings mean there are definitely no wards between the two prisons and our magical contracts prevent any real information being shared. Between the island being populated only with people bound by their duty contracts; my prisoners, who would want to stay as far away from Vana as possible; and the Vanan prisoners, who are walled in, the security on the island is low. At least outside of Vana – it’s swarming with Hunters on the inside, from what I understand. Floating in the sky, surrounded by magical wards that mark you for certain capture should you try to escape – if you survive the fall, that is – is a pretty good deterrent to most would-be prison break attempts.
‘Sure about this?’ I ask Blossom as we cross the clearing.
Her features are ghoulish in the light shining up from her phone, but I catch her nod.
We step onto the forbidden path, the closest we’ve ever been to this side, and shift into the darker shadows on the left side. Even though I’m sure there are no wards, I still find myself waiting for the scream of an alarm.
Only the sounds of the forest greet us. The quiet hush of the leaves in the soft breeze, the gentle groan of heavy branches. The occasional sound of a cricket.
It feels darker on this side, the trees that line the edges of the dirt track pressing in on us. The scent is fresh though, at odds with what I would expect in a place that’s trying to be foreboding. The end of the path appears abruptly and we stop just as suddenly. Staying under the cover of the trees closest to us, we peer out, taking in the huge, brown stone building that looms ahead of us. There’s no garden around it like our compound, just a wide stretch of green – like a grass moat.
We pocket our phones, the tiny lights no longer needed in the full lighting of the prison. One of the few things I have heard is that’s one of the difficulties of being stationed here – it’s almost impossible to adjust to the constant light streaming in the windows and now, as I squint into the glare, I can understand why.
Checking the top of the walls for guards and not seeing any, we make a break for it, racing towards the right corner where River told us there will be a dark alcove on the outside we can slip into. The almost-healed cut on my stomach throbs a little in protest, but I ignore it, focusing on reaching the wall. On the other side there is supposed to be a matching space the prisoner frequents in the hours before dawn.
As soon as we reach the wall, Blossom and I pause to assess where we are. Pressing ourselves against the cold stone, breathing heavily, we stare at each other in disbelief we’re doing this.
‘Need to move,’ Blossom whispers hoarsely. And we take off again, running low along the prison wall, keeping close enough for me to bang my shoulder against it and I stifle a curse.
Just when I think I’m going to have to slow down, the burn of my legs and lungs just too much, the alcove appears. Although it’s less an ‘alcove’ and more a hole hacked into the lower wall. We throw ourselves on to our knees in the shadows of the small space, barely having time to take in the thick bars that separate us from the inside of the other prison before two hands snake through them and forcefully grip the front of each of our shirts, dragging our knees through the dirt as we’re pulled further into the alcove.
‘Who the fuck are you?’ a woman says, but the impact of my face striking the bars makes it sound like it’s on repeat in my head.
‘Friends of the Warden,’ I get out as best I can with my cheek smashed against a cold bar.
‘Which one?’ she grinds out.
‘Clau-Claudius,’ I choke.
‘Who sent you?’ she spits.
‘He did,’ Blossom says, her voice matching the steel of the bars.
Slowly, the pressure on my face releases a bit and she lets us each go. I rub at my face and head as I watch her, watching us.
She’s crouched in the alcove, slightly on her side, so it’s hard to tell how tall she is, but the sleeveless shirt she wears shows her strong physique – if the tender spot on my forehead didn’t already prove her strength. Her face is made up of hard lines, her lips pressed so firmly together they’re almost white.
I try to shuffle myself into a more comfortable position, trying to ease the pinch in my side, and end up half pressed against Blossom in the process, the warmth of her skin seeping through my clothes.
The woman runs a hand over her shaved head – and a large, yellowing bruise – and lets out a huff.
‘How do I know that?’ she asks.
‘Do you like strawberries?’ Blossom asks, remembering the instructions from River.
The stranger narrows her eyes.
‘What do you want?’ she asks, slightly more resigned this time.
‘There are things the Warden wanted us to do,’ I say quietly, ‘including making contact with you.’
Her expression doesn’t change. ‘That’s a big claim.’
Blossom and I remain silent.
‘One that will come with a cost should anyone get wind of it,’ she says.
‘I understand,’ I say, keen to be the one who voices our acknowledgment and not Blossom.
She considers us for a moment, her head shifting from side to side as if she’s sizing up her prey. My father told me many stories of Shaides in our family line but we haven’t had any for generations, their skills so rare. As I look into the cold eyes of the woman staring back at us, I wonder if all people who can tear the fabric of the world to wield a portal are a little … off balance.
‘Claudius really sent you?’ she asks.
‘Yes,’ I whisper, remembering the almost desperate – but trusting – look on his face when we talked about her. ‘We worked together. I think he thought we could help each other … I’m just not totally sure how. Or why.’
A jolt of genuine surprise lights her face. ‘I appreciate your honesty. Do you have a name?’
My heart stammers a little harder in my chest. For a moment, I consider giving her a false one, but that could mean she doesn’t help. Giving my real one means she could turn us in.
I swallow.
‘Blossom.’ Bloss holds her hand out to shake the other woman’s.
‘Luka,’ I say quietly.
She shakes my hand after releasing Blossom’s.
‘Cortane Vixel.’
Cortane. I’ve turned her name over many times since that conversation with Claudius – it suits her. We look at each other a moment as I wonder what comes next. Cortane’s hazel gaze is particularly assessing, even in the slight gloom of the alcove.
Cortane drops her hand from the stone wall, any flicker of softness fleeing from her. ‘I don’t know you – and I don’t trust most of the people I do know. If you’re who he wanted to do this, he had good reason. But those reasons are not my own, so you will have to prove yourself to me.’
There’s a long silence. The slight rustling of the leaves in the dark behind us, beyond the light, makes my spine prickle with unease.
‘What is it you want?’ Blossom asks.
‘I want the time and date of the next sporting event for the guests you serve,’ Cortane says. I don’t miss the poisonous emphasis she puts on ‘guests’.
‘That’s all?’ I ask.
‘No,’ she says before the question is completely out of my mouth, ‘but this is how you start to prove I can trust you.’
Neither Blossom nor I answer. Details of the schedule are supposed to be strictly confidential beyond the concierge team … but she hasn’t asked about a particular prisoner or their movements, which is what is covered in our magical contracts, so we’re not bound to secrecy in this case.
‘How did you know Claudius?’ I ask instead.
She slides her cold assessment to me and I suppress a shiver. ‘That’s a very personal question for a stranger.’
‘Claudius wasn’t a stranger to me,’ I say, wishing my voice didn’t sound so shaky.
Her smile is cold when it slips into place. ‘And yet you have no idea why he’s sent you here.’
I clear my throat, conscious of Blossom studying the woman in front of us.
‘No,’ I say. ‘He died before he could share all that was relevant.’
The muscles in the sides of Cortane’s face ripple, as if she’s biting down – hard – on that knowledge, and I can’t help but wonder what he could have shared well before now. What he could have done to prepare me somehow. Perhaps Cortane, too.
‘We’re risking a lot to even see you,’ I say when it’s clear she won’t tell me their history. ‘How do we know you’re not just setting us up to join you in there?’
She grips the bars.
‘You don’t,’ she spits. ‘But Claudius obviously didn’t want you in here, and I intend to see that through. If I decide I can trust you.’
At length, I finally say, ‘Tuesday at eleven.’
‘Come back after that and we’ll talk about next steps,’ she says, pushing herself up off the bars and leaving us alone.
Just like that, I feel like someone has torn a little portion of me in two and I separate the halves of me into the places left behind. Luka, the diligent concierge, and the other Luka, going against everything I have been taught about believing in the system for just a chance at a life with the people I love.
The run back over the light-moat is harder than the first because the sun is dancing at the bottom edge of the island, ready to take her throne for the day, and we have to move faster.
I shower quickly, washing the slight sweat from my body, redressing what remains of my cut – most of the stitches having now dissolved, leaving a faint scar – and putting on a lilac dress, the first I spot in the wardrobe. It’s not my favourite, but I don’t have time to be concerned with that now. I need to oversee the handover from the night staff, set the day’s teams in motion, and meet with Quillian to take him through the day-to-day ministrations of the prison – all while trying to ignore the gnawing in the pit of my stomach at what will happen on Tuesday.
It’s abundantly clear Claudius and Cortane were important to each other in some way. Even if he hadn’t told me, it would be obvious now I’ve met her. But there was a coldness about her that makes me feel uneasy, an unpredictability that sets my teeth on edge.
The concierge room is bubbling with the chatter of people as Blossom and I arrive. The different teams devour the food the kitchen staff have laid out for us. For the day staff, it’s a breakfast meeting. For the night, an opportunity for a dinner before they retire to their rooms. It’s only the concierges here on these mornings, the Warden normally meets with the kitchen staff separately. Something I would help with at different times, but will now need to introduce Quillian to and see how he would like to manage things going forward.
It’s a bit surreal to be thinking about the future operations of the prison when I am actively looking for a way out – an illegal one, at that. At least for Nix and River. Surely Traelen will come through for me when he ends my extension.
Janly is the most senior concierge from night shift and I ask her to brief me on anything I need to know while the others chat.
‘Kasera is quite upset about the Warden,’ she says, ‘or so she claims. I’ve added an additional time slot to the wellness centre for her.’ There’s a look of distant distaste on her face but she continues before I can question it.
‘The new prisoner, Finn, still hasn’t really engaged with the others and only surfaced from his room once last night – sat with me for a cup of tea.’ Her deep brown eyes brush over my face. ‘He’s quite a comforting presence, actually.’
I lift my brows at her and she just shrugs.
‘People’s true colours come out at night, when they’re tired and lonely,’ she says. ‘He seems like one of the good ones.’
Blossom laughs gently with Emeris to our right, drawing Janly’s attention.
‘Someone less good,’ she murmurs, ‘was watching the younger ones carefully.’
‘Davorous?’ I ask, equally quiet.
She nods, her greying hair bobbing slightly around her face. ‘Asking lots of questions about Blossom.’ Turning her attention fully back to me she says, ‘You need to watch that. I was going to report it to the Warden myself but …’ she trails off. ‘Removing Bloss from his team was the right move, but I have a feeling it’s not going to be enough. He’s not a man to be turned down – especially by the help.’
A painful pit starts to open up in my belly, just beneath my fresh scar, and I look up at the board in front of us. I switched Blossom out of his team weeks ago but it’s impossible to be completely isolated from the prisoners, as I should have thought more about when he asked her to dance.
Blossom will be mad at me for interfering, but I’ll have to see what Quillian can do. Having Blossom available to Davorous is quickly becoming a hard no. If I was at all tempted to leave her here so she wasn’t implicated in my sudden disregard for my service and my duty, the thought of her staying in arm’s reach of Davorous makes it disappear in a puff of smoke.
‘How’s your load?’ I ask as I look over the board. Taking in the photos on the left that show each concierge and their charges alongside the schedule. Janly’s looks about the same as all of us, but my role has now shifted somewhat, at least temporarily.
‘Fine,’ she says, almost starting to bristle as if I’m about to critique her.
‘How do you feel about having Finn added to you?’
Her hesitant face softens. ‘He’d definitely be one of the easier ones you could give me.’
‘Traelen has asked me to act as assistant to the new Warden until he’s found his feet, so it’s just temporary,’ I say. ‘A short stint, I’m sure.’
She’s quiet for a moment, watching me. ‘Have you met him yet?’
‘The new Warden?’
She nods but doesn’t offer anything more, and I wonder if she’s feeling a strangeness about the replacement of Claudius.
‘He seems nice, Jan,’ I say, laying a hand on her arm. ‘But Claudius will be a tough act to follow.’
Her sigh is deep in response.
‘In so many ways,’ she says softly.
The room quiets suddenly and I look over my shoulder to find Quillian has joined us. My body reacts before my brain as a flutter of butterflies takes flight behind my ribs and my cut seems to throb in time with their wings.
The concierges part as Quillian walks to the board, focused solely on me. His tall, wide form grows in my vision until I have to blink to clear my head. It’s impossible to look into his dark-green eyes without remembering his gentle kindness in the clearing, his concern and guilt last night.
But Nix doesn’t trust him, so I make myself look away until he reaches us. But my mind snags on the things – potentially a lot of things – Nix is keeping from me as I do.
‘Sir,’ I say, ‘this is Janly.’
He inclines his head as she smiles in greeting, his short, dark hair swept back off his face.
‘Janly primarily does night duty – by choice,’ I say. ‘I was just getting her thoughts on the shift.’ He watches us closely as I talk, hands behind his back. I glance at Janly, wondering if I should continue, and he looks back at me expectantly. ‘I’ve asked her to take my most recent allocation, Finn, but I can take—’
‘No,’ he cuts me off gently. ‘If it’s okay with you, Janly, I would like that prisoner to remain on your list. At least until I am up to speed.’
‘Of course, sir,’ Janly says.
She flicks her dark gaze back towards Blossom and shifts on her feet slightly.
‘There is another matter I’d like to raise with you,’ Janly says, ‘but it’s not one we should discuss here.’
Quillian’s face doesn’t change, but there’s a guarded intensity in his stance as he looks at her.
‘Luka is across it as well,’ she says. ‘Perhaps she can fill you in when you each have a quiet moment?’
I nod, taking care not to look at Blossom, and try not to notice the soft question in Quillian’s face, the slight lifting of his brows.
The room is still quiet as Quillian steps forward again, thanking us as he moves past and turns so his back is to the board. Janly and I are still close to him, and now in the first row of his audience. I feel the attention of every concierge turn to him and the conversations die away completely.
‘Good morning,’ he says, lifting his voice so the whole room can hear him. ‘I’m … sorry for the circumstances that bring me to you. I know the previous Warden was a great man, and a wonderful leader.’
He looks around the room.
‘I’m not looking to replicate him, but I will do my best to keep your duties here as pleasant as possible during my stay. You may know by now that Traelen has asked Luka to help me settle in, and I appreciate you all helping to pick up some of the load that will leave for others – like you, Janly.’
He looks straight at her and my eyes widen at the blush that rises on her cheeks. Along the crooked row of people, Blossom catches my eye, her lips turned up a fraction at the corner. I glance away quickly before mine do the same.
‘I don’t want to keep you from your rest or your work,’ he says, ‘so I will hand it over to Luka. But please, speak freely with me about any questions or concerns you have. I’m looking forward to working with you all.’
He takes a small step sideways, opening up a gap for me to stand next to him, and I slowly take that place. My heart hammers at having to address my colleagues in front of the new Warden. Quillian.
‘Thank you, sir,’ I say quietly and clear my throat. ‘I’ve spoken with Janly,’ I say, addressing the room, ‘and the night went smoothly – nothing out of the ordinary to report. Traelen has asked that our schedule return to normal as of today.
‘That means all prisoners will return to their individual routines as well. We have aerial yoga resuming in the gardens today, the sport contest on Tuesday, and we’ll need to schedule the next evening event as soon as possible. I will leave it to the heads of each of those committees to put the wheels in motion again today. Can you each please report back to me within twenty-four hours?’
I look for the right nods through the group and make sure I don’t look directly to my left, where a radiating heat is coming from Quillian. All my nerves stand on end at the knowledge he is watching my every move.
‘Importantly,’ I continue, ‘Traelen has insisted that all the prisoners go back to enjoying their time here. The moment for … mourning – unless it’s a prisoner – in public has passed, I’m afraid.’
I watch the small sea of watchful faces look at Quillian as they absorb this news.
‘Which just means,’ he says, and I swear he was still looking at me until the moment I turned my head to look at him politely, ‘you mourn as a group here, or privately. Please don’t let that instruction diminish the different grief I know you will all be feeling. There will be a significant adjustment for some of you, for others less so. But we can be patient with each other.’
He looks expectantly at me but I shake my head. I have nothing further to add. I watch him as he turns back to the room, his kindness sweeping its way through me, and I can’t help but think Nix has to be wrong about him, that Nix’s constantly simmering, out of character anger, isn’t the only thing that’s off-kilter about my best friend. Maybe his judgement has suffered somehow, as well.
‘Enjoy your day,’ he says, and the room disperses, leaving me with Quillian.
‘Where shall we start?’ he asks.