The Stewards dragged her into a barred cell, ignoring her pleas, just as they’d ignored her on the marshes, listening to nothing that she had to say about James, or how little time was left.
Deep in the rock, the only light came from the two torches outside. The bars threw shadows into the cell, crisscrossing the ground, a repeating iron lattice. She could feel in its stupefying effect on her that this place had been built to hold powerful prisoners, perhaps creatures of the dark in that ancient war. The cell walls were black, unnerving and wrong. They weren’t made of stone; they were made of something more like obsidian, gleaming and carved over with long, curving script that looked like the writing of the old world.
But whatever fell creatures had once been imprisoned here, the black honeycomb of dizzying cells were now all empty, except for the one directly across from her own, where Will lay, pale and breathing shallowly, unconscious but alive. Laying Will’s body out on the stone in a pair of manacles that matched hers, the Stewards had locked the bars and filed out, all but one of them, who had remained, standing outside her cell.
‘Justice,’ she said.
He was still wearing his armour, white and silver. His handsome face was framed by his jet-black hair, half tied in its twist, the rest falling straight down his back.
‘You’ll be kept in this cell,’ he said. ‘You won’t be let out. The High Janissary is meeting with the council now to decide your fate.’
My fate. She felt those words in her bones. She thought of a lion hunt – the great beast speared in five places. As she looked into Justice’s impassive face, she felt a terrible chill.
‘But you’ll tell them I’m on their side. You’ll tell them I went to London to help them.’
Her words fell into a cold silence. He’s looking at me, she thought. But he’s seeing something else. It made them strangers, suddenly. She felt utterly locked out, searching his face through the bars for any hint of its old expression.
‘Justice?’ His face didn’t change.
‘When the decision is made, they’ll take you in chains to the Hall.’
It was hard to breathe. ‘And do what?’
‘You’re a Lion,’ said Justice. ‘You’ll be killed to stop you from hurting people.’
She felt dizzy, breathless. ‘You can still get to James,’ she said. ‘He’ll know where Marcus is being held. He’s Simon’s favourite. You can stop James and save Marcus.’
‘The Stewards will not be lured out to another ambush. Whatever you sought to gain by infiltrating our Hall, it’s over.’
‘If you don’t stop Simon now, you might not get another chance. He’s strong and he’s close to achieving his plans—’
‘You’re the Dark King’s servant. It’s in your blood.’
‘Justice, you know me,’ she said. ‘Not a Lion. Me. Violet.’
‘You will follow the Dark,’ said Justice. ‘Unless we prevent it. That’s what Stewards are. We’re the last protectors. Against creatures like you.’
She barely heard the dull clang of the door as he left. She couldn’t breathe; the pain was immense. She remembered another door closing, beating on it with her fists until they were raw. This was worse, her future shutting down, leaving her in the dark.
She thought, My father had a lion cage and the Stewards have one too.
Her world, all her dreams, narrowed down to this cell, her false lives stripped away to show the truth: she wasn’t wanted. Justice looked at her and saw a Lion, and he was going to kill her. How dare you come back here. Louisa’s words wormed around in her head.
Her father’s smiles, her brother’s fond words, Justice’s steady-handed guidance, it had all been lies.
No, that wasn’t true. Her family had lied. Justice had been honest. He had told her what he felt about Lions from the start.
‘Violet?’
She scrabbled up towards the bars, and in the cell opposite hers she saw Will, pushing himself up onto an elbow. She felt so stupidly glad to hear his voice, to see him alive and awake. He looked weak, and the hair on the left side of his head was clumped with dried blood. Before he managed to sit up, he said, ‘Are you all right? Did they hurt you?’
‘I’m all right.’ She swallowed the feeling, his first thought being for her. ‘They hit you over the head.’
‘I know,’ he said, his weak returning smile making it a kind of joke. She watched him sit all the way up, then pretend he preferred not to stand, rather than show that he couldn’t. She swallowed again. ‘How long have we been down here?’