Before She Ignites (Fallen Isles Trilogy #1)(39)

The woman nodded.

“Then do it.” He curled his lips at me. “Here’s what’s going to happen if we can’t get along: I’ll have a private cell prepared for you, apart from the rest of the first level.”

My heart leaped, making my whole body jerk as Rosa pulled the needle from my arm. Coconut water dribbled from the tip of the needle before she pinched the tube and moved to put away the lifesaving death trap. Then she left the room.

“What do you think?” A smile slithered across Altan’s face. “Will some more alone time help you?”

Alone again. In a strange cell, not my own. Not even the faint familiarity of the first level, with my sewage hole and space beneath my bed. Just a vast darkness and maddening silence.

No, I didn’t want that.

But I couldn’t tell Altan anything. He was not trustworthy.

But if I insisted on keeping the dragon secret, he’d lock me away.

But the dragons.

But the darkness.

The awful choice only encouraged the headache pulsing behind my eyes and back through my temples. No matter what I did or didn’t do, there would be consequences. “What do you want with dragons?” My voice came harsh. Raspy.

“I want to save them,” he said. “Of course.”

I couldn’t believe Altan wanted to save anyone or anything. As a warrior, part of his duty was to protect all of the Fallen Isles, but how could that be true when he delighted in cruelty?

If I said nothing, it was into a new and terrible cell for me. And I couldn’t . . .

I couldn’t do that again. I couldn’t handle that terror. I’d lose my mind to the darkness. The strange woman had sounded like she wanted me kept alive, but Altan had already demonstrated that my life was inconsequential to him.

I should have died. It wasn’t as if I’d ever been forced to ration food like that. Damina was a wealthy island, and my family wealthier than most, thanks to Father’s ties with the Luminary Council. I’d always had enough food, carefully prepared by one of the best chefs in all the Fallen Isles. Even three years ago—the year there’d been a drought and tables all across the Isles of Lovers were leaner than usual—I’d had enough to eat.

I didn’t know how to be hungry.

The fact that I was still alive truly revealed Darina and Damyan’s love, because I could not have survived that on my own.

“You know what’s coming for you, Mira.” Altan loomed over me, full of barely contained fury.

I had no doubt that he would follow through with the threat to lock me in a more isolated cell. Alone. In the dark. Starving.

The thought of another day like that—let alone four more—made me want to curl up and die. I wasn’t strong enough to bear it.

“All right.” My heart thundered in my ears so loudly that I could barely hear my own whisper. “I’ll tell you what I know.”

I hated myself for the words, but they worked magic. Immediately, Tirta appeared in the doorway bearing a tray laden with food. One plain ceramic bowl with a dark liquid inside. One plate, piled high with fish and beans and rice. One fork, one spoon, one napkin.

At home, it would have been a very uninteresting meal, but here—right now—it was a feast. For a second, I didn’t even care about the utensils. I wanted to dig my hands straight into the rice and shove it in my mouth. I couldn’t even imagine taking the time to chew. Such was the hollow pain of hunger.

But Tirta’s gaze darted toward Altan and she placed the tray on the bed next to mine, just out of my reach. “Sorry,” she mouthed. Her seven braids swung down the back of her neck as she turned away, keeping her face down like a proper prisoner.

Oh. Of course. He’d make me wait to eat until after I told him what he wanted to know. Showing me the food before—that was just another way of taunting me.

My stomach gave a pathetic growl. I wanted that food, but I was still so weak I could barely lift my head, let alone launch myself onto the tray.

Altan glanced at Tirta. “Out.”

Her mouth dropped open, as though she wanted to protest, but instead, she nodded and exited the room, shutting the door firmly after her. Altan and I were alone.

“Now, tell me what you know.” Altan crossed his arms over his chest. Muscles strained beneath the leather jacket, like I needed the reminder of his ability to overpower me. Like I needed the reminder of my own frailty.

Ilina would say I was trading the dragons for a few bites of food and company in my cellblock.

Hristo would say I needed to do anything I could to stay alive.

And Mother would say I should not tell the truth.

“Dragons have vanished from the Crescent Prominence sanctuary,” Altan said. “I know that much. And I know that you have information on their whereabouts.”

How did Altan know about vanishing dragons? I hadn’t even known until a month ago—the day of the earthquake on Idris.

“What makes you think I know anything?” I clamped my mouth shut, praying he wouldn’t lock me in the isolation cell on principle.

A knifelike smile split his frown. “I have friends everywhere. I wasn’t always a prison guard.” He touched the clawed pin on his jacket. “And I won’t stay a prison guard once I have everything I want from you.”

My whole body shuddered. Altan had spies—or access to spies—in the Luminary Council. Or someone who worked for them, more likely, or else he wouldn’t need me.