Would they do to Karigan what they had done to Yolandhe? He did not doubt they wouldn’t hesitate if they thought it would fulfill some purpose. And the potential within Karigan—what would happen if it came to fruition? What would it to do to his—to their—child? The genteel society he’d known in the professor’s house and at the university was a façade only. The emperor’s men knew no bounds when it came to cruelty and crossing the lines of human decency.

“Yes, I can see you are thinking it over,” Starling said. “The Scarlet Guard are eager to meet your Miss G’ladheon.”

If Starling wished to enflame Cade’s emotions, he was succeeding. Cade could not help but see Karigan’s face in place of Yolandhe’s, her lips sewn shut, the body he’d touched so tenderly mutilated by the hands of monsters. He tried to force the image from his mind. He could not let it happen. But even if he did all that Starling wished, what would guarantee Karigan’s safety? Maybe they’d go ahead and do to her whatever they wished, even if he gave them every single name of the leaders of the opposition. Luke’s betrayal had done nothing to save his family. He shuddered, remembering the head of Luke’s son in the coffer.

What of my child?

Misinterpreting Cade’s shudder, Starling smiled. “One does not soon forget the sight of the witch.”

Cade didn’t reply. He knew he could not allow them to harm Karigan. But if giving up names was no guarantee, how could he rescue her? He was guarded and in chains. He could not even help himself.

Starling leered at him as if he could scent hopelessness.

THE PRISON OF FORGOTTEN DAYS

Karigan was unceremoniously tossed into Lorine’s chambers, and she sprawled across the floor. A pair of slippered feet hurried over to her.

“Miss Goodgrave!” Lorine was in a sleeping gown and robe. She helped Karigan rise to her feet. “Are you well? I didn’t know what to think when those brutes dragged you away.”

“I’m hungry, mainly,” Karigan said.

“What are they thinking?” Lorine fretted. “Manacles and no food. If Mirriam were here, she’d tell them a thing or two.”

Karigan agreed and slumped wearily onto the sofa. Lorine’s eyes, she noted, were red-rimmed and puffy. She must have been weeping for Cade. Before Karigan could tell her anything, a look of resolve set in Lorine’s features, and she hurried off to what must be her bedchamber. Moments later, she returned with a veil covering her face. She strode to the door without a faltering step, and swung it open.

“Miss Goodgrave has had no supper,” she informed the guards. “You should be ashamed of yourselves for her poor care on your watch. You must have something brought for her right away.”

Karigan thought Lorine did as well as Mirriam ever could. When Lorine rejoined her on the sofa and pushed the veil back, it looked as though the effort had cost her.

“I believe some of Arhys’ willfulness has rubbed off on me,” she said.

“In a good way,” Karigan reassured her. “Perhaps you can convince them to remove my manacles.”

“Oh no! I didn’t even think!”

Karigan had only been jesting, believing it was beyond anyone’s power but Dr. Silk’s to have them removed. “Speaking of Arhys, where is she?”

“In bed. I haven’t had the heart to tell her about Mr. Harlowe.”

“About Mr. Harlowe,” Karigan said, “he is not dead after all. I fear I jumped to that conclusion when I heard about Luke.”

“Oh!” Lorine placed her hand over her mouth and paled. “You are sure?”

“As sure as I can be without actually seeing him. It does not mean he is out of danger, however.”

“Thank all that is good that he still lives,” Lorine whispered.

“I don’t know for how long,” Karigan murmured. “He is being . . . questioned.”

“It is all too much. All of this.”

“Yes,” Karigan replied. “Yes, it is.” She glanced about the room wondering if there were listeners, or even watchers. She decided she could assume nothing. “Lorine, I am feeling chill. Do you suppose we could have a fire?”

Lorine gave her an odd look at the change of subject. Karigan tried to convey in her return gaze that it was more than a simple request to start a fire in the fireplace.

Lorine nodded. “Yes, Miss Goodgrave, I’ll see to it.”

While Lorine worked on starting a fire, Karigan hunted for writing materials. On a table, she found Arhys’ lesson books and a sheaf of plain paper where the girl had practiced her figures and handwriting. Karigan took the paper and a graphite stick, cleverly encased in a cylinder of wood, to the sofa. Just as Lorine got a blaze going, the guards returned with a tray for Karigan. Lorine gave a good accounting of herself trying to convince them to free Karigan of the manacles, but they refused. Mirriam, however, would have been proud of Lorine’s tenacity.

They’d brought Karigan chicken soup and tea, and she thought sadly of poor Luke who’d so often had soup brought to her while she was under the influence of morphia. It was tepid and not so easy to spoon into her mouth with her wrists bound, but it was tasty. When she scraped the bottom of the bowl, she asked Lorine, “Do you like to play games?”

“What?”

“See here,” Karigan replied, and she wrote on the paper: Pretend we are playing a game. “Bridge and Rabbit,” she said aloud. “Do you know that one?” It had been a common children’s game in Karigan’s time.