How long had she been in this cell? Five days? Six?
Months more like.
No, that was silly. Felitïa had lost track of the rising and setting of the sun, but it hadn’t been that long.
Still, it was five or six days without a wink of sleep, so the apparent length was surely measured in months.
She could really use some more of the sleeping draught. That had worked so well. Then again, Angelida had warned her of becoming dependent on the draught. What if that one use had made her dependent? Made her unable to sleep without it?
Then she still needed more of it, so it really didn’t make a difference.
Felitïa laughed to herself.
She wondered where Lon and Nesh were. Apart from the giant versions she’d hallucinated and had a long conversation with last night, she hadn’t seen them since she’d been put in here.
This sleeplessness of the last few days was far worse than it had been before. Even though she’d been sleeping very little, she had at least gotten a bit of sleep—a few minutes here, a few minutes there, sometimes even an hour or two. Now, as best she could tell, she literally hadn’t slept at all in five or six days. Shouldn’t there be a point where her body just could not physically stay awake any longer? That made sense, didn’t it?
Of course, she was the Will-Breaker. Maybe her body worked differently.
That said, a Will-Breaker who couldn’t even sleep was a pretty shitty Will-Breaker. She wasn’t sure exactly what a Will-Breaker was supposed to be, but she was reasonably certain a Will-Breaker should be able to sleep. What a joke she was.
She laughed again.
“Anita!” There was no answer, so she called again. “Anita!”
“Shut up!” the jailer called back.
How dare he! Shut up indeed. She’d make him shut up. She’d put him to sleep. She used to do that sort of thing all the time. It was such a convenient way to get through a conflict bloodlessly. She couldn’t do it anymore though. Someone had stolen the spell from her. Or something like that.
“Anita!”
“I said shut up!”
Wow, he was rude.
Why wasn’t Anita responding?
Oh right. Anita was let out of here yesterday, or maybe the day before.
Felitïa laughed again. Boy, did she feel silly, calling for someone who wasn’t even there. No wonder the jailer was so grouchy. Then again, he deserved it for keeping her locked up here.
She’d come to the conclusion the jailer had to be the mastermind behind everything that was happening. Castroff had kidnapped Corvinian on her jailer’s orders. It made sense. That was the real reason he was so rude to her.
Or maybe it was the person in her head.
Yes, that actually made more sense. There was no way the jailer was the actual mastermind here. What a silly thought. She had a lot of silly thoughts these days.
She’d discovered the person in her head yesterday—or was it the day before? Last month? Whatever. There was an anomaly in the line-up. One of the blurred figures was standing a little off to the side, like they were peering round to see up ahead. Except the people in the line never moved, so they couldn’t do that. So clearly there was someone in her head who shouldn’t be there.
That would explain a lot of things, really.
Too bad she couldn’t really trust her own head these days. She couldn’t trust anyone’s head, but her own especially.
“Again?” the jailer said. “Fine, go through, but make it quick.”
“Go through what?” Felitïa called back. “I’m stuck in this cell.”
A figure approached the cell door. Felitïa was pretty sure she recognised this person. This person came here every day.
“Good morning, Felitïa,” the figure said. “How are you doing?”
Felitïa sat on the bench-bed. “Why should I tell you anything?”
“Getting worse, I see.”
“Have you contacted Agernon yet?” Oh, why had she asked that? Oh, right! She remembered who this person was now!
Siba frowned. “Felitïa. Your Highness, I...I told you already. Agernon’s house collapsed. No one’s sure what happened. A lot of Red Knights lost their lives though. So did Agernon. Nin-Akna too.”
“Liar.”
“I’m not lying, your Highness.”
Felitïa shook her head. They weren’t dead. They couldn’t be dead.
She closed her eyes for a moment, did her best to focus her thoughts. She was so scattered these days. But every now and then, she could manage a moment of clarity. “Siba, please believe me when I tell you they would not have gone down so easily. It’s in the Bloods’ best interest to declare them dead, even when they’re not. I know for a fact Nin-Akna is still alive. I’m certain Agernon is, too.”
Siba curtsied. “I hope you’re right, your Highness.”
“Just call me Felitïa. Curtsies and your Highnesses are pointless across cell doors. How’s Anita?”
“Not good. She believes Nin-Akna is dead.”
Felitïa buried her head in her hands. “Haven’t you told her I know she’s not dead?”
Siba shook her head. “You’ve only just told me that your Highness. I mean, Felitïa.”
“Oh. I didn’t say that before? Really? Sorry. I’ve been having a hard time remembering things lately. How long have I been in here?”
“This is the fifth day.”
So her guess had been more or less right. “There’s somebody in my head.”
Siba looked blankly at her. “I...don’t understand.”
“Never mind. That didn’t make much sense, did it?”
Siba shook her head.
She shouldn’t talk about the person in her head. People would think she was crazy.
Which was probably not far from the truth.
Who was she kidding? It was the absolute truth. She was losing her mind.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to bring you more sleeping draught,” Siba said. “They search me every time I come.”
“That’s all right,” Felitïa said. “It’s not your fault. Oh gods, I blamed you yesterday, didn’t I?”
“It’s all right. You’re not in your right mind.”
“That’s an understatement.”
“I’ll come visit you again tomorrow,” Siba said. “Hopefully, I’ll have good news for you.”
“Thank you, Siba. For everything.”
Felitïa closed her eyes. It was time to do something about the person in her head.
The Room hadn’t been obeying her very well the last few days. Most of the time, it wouldn’t even form, and when it did, it seemed to have a mind of its own—which was ridiculous since it was made out of her own mind. Of course, it didn’t really have a mind. It was just her own mind behaving out of control.
At least, she hoped it was that. The alternative that the Room did have a mind of its own was too disturbing to contemplate. Then again, the Staff had a mind of its own. And that was really disturbing, so her original point stood.
Luck was with her, and the black walls of the Room sprang into quasi-real existence in her head. There was one other presence there—the jailer’s. Actually, there were several minor presences too. Those were probably mice, maybe a cat. She wondered if any of them were Lon and Nesh. She could usually recognise their presences, but at the moment, she was having difficult remembering them.
She headed over to the line-up. Hi Zandrue.
Felitïa.
Go away! she snapped.
Felitïa.
Unlike the Staff, the voices in her head usually went quiet when she told them to, but they hadn’t been obeying her recently.
She looked over Zandrue. I really wish you were here. Zandrue’s shoulder was wounded—pierced all the way through. The wound had been there for a few days now if Felitïa remembered correctly, maybe a week, week and a half? Zandrue had a few bruises too, but otherwise she looked in fine shape. I could use your help. At the very least, Zandrue didn’t look sleep-deprived.
But she wasn’t here to stare at Zandrue.
She moved down the row, past Rudiger and Borisin, Meleng, Jorvan, and Corvinian. Quilla looked tired, her eyes red like she’d been crying. If Felitïa were to look at someone in the line-up at the exact same time they were crying, would she see tears? None of the figures ever moved. They just stood there like statues—perfectly life-like statues, but just as still. But were tears movement?
She was getting distracted again.
Kindanog’s face was bloody, and he had a gash on his left arm. There were also several smaller cuts on his chest and other arm. What the hell had happened to him?
Nin-Akna looked...awful, although it was better than she had looked a day or two ago...four or five days ago? However long it had been. Her feet were blistered, and some of her toes looked blackened, but the blisters meant healing was happening. Felitïa had gone through it herself to a lesser degree years ago when she’d first arrived at Elderaan’s. Nin-Akna had to be in a lot of pain, but if she had made it to Agernon, she was in good hands. He’d get her through it.
The next figure remained blurred. Somewhat tall—though not exceptionally so—and thin was all she could say about it. The remaining figures were too blurred to even distinguish that much.
It had been ages since Nin-Akna had been revealed. Felitïa had gone through a period of a lot being revealed over a relatively short period of time, and then nothing. She wondered who this next person was and when she’d learn it.
But she was still distracted.
What she was looking for was farther down the line, assuming it was still there.
None of the blurry shapes looked out of place. It was a straight line, vanishing into the distance of the Room, possibly towards the grey walls, and maybe beyond?
It could have been her exhausted state. That was responsible for everything these days, it seemed. Maybe she had imagined seeing a figure out of place. She’d hallucinated talking to giant rats; an out-of-place blurry figure in a blurry queue could just as easily have been her mind playing tricks on her.
But she wanted to believe the Room was safe. Hallucinations wouldn’t happen here. Would they?
Something moved.
It was behind her, as weird as that seemed.
She focused on where it had been. There was nothing there now. Only the jailer’s presence. That hadn’t moved or changed.
Anyone there? she called.
Felitïa, the usual voices said. Felitïa.
She looked in front of her, behind her, left, right, above, below, and several other perpendicular directions that shouldn’t exist. Nothing was out of place.
But what if there was something else in the Room she had never noticed? It had happened before. The grey walls, which were easy to see now, had gone unnoticed for ages, until she had finally seen them. It was possible for things to be hidden from her in here.
If she were trying to hide in here, how would she do it? Gods, think, Felitïa, think. She needed to push away the exhaustion for just a little while. Focus and think straight.
Hiding in the blurred section of the line-up was definitely one thing she might try. Perhaps behind the image of the Staff over the line-up.
Or maybe a direction she’d never looked in before. Those directions that shouldn’t exist existed here because there wasn’t really any such thing as direction here. It was all just an abstraction. As such, it was always possible to look some way she hadn’t.
But which way? She’d just looked in a few and hadn’t found anything.
She tried a couple more. Still nothing.
Of course, if direction was an abstraction and there was no real direction, then the direction shouldn’t matter. After all, she’d spotted something moving “behind” her a moment ago.
Maybe if she looked everywhere at once—stopped treating everything as being in different places and instead put everything in the Room in the same spot.
Gods, she was so tired.
She pushed that aside. Tried to focus, concentrate.
Then she pulled the walls in to a single point, the jailer’s presence with them, the minor presences too. The entire queue of people, revealed and unrevealed. The Staff. Even those gods-damned grey walls. Even herself. Everything. She brought absolutely everything together in the same spot.
And there it was.
Vaguely familiar, but obscured, yet definitely another presence. It had to be another mentalist. Only another mentalist could have hidden their presence like this. And it had to be a damn powerful one, too.
Then the presence was gone. Whoever it was must have realised she’d spotted them. If she could just put her finger on what was familiar about the presence…
But that would have to wait. There were other things she hadn’t noticed before as well. The very markers she’d been looking for that indicated the presence of mentalism magic. They were barely there. So tiny. It was no wonder she hadn’t noticed them before. There was no way to tell for sure what they did, but she had several suspicions.
She expanded the Room back to its usual appearance, keeping her focus on all the tiny points of magic. They were all spread along the grey walls, intertwined with the walls themselves. A dozen? No, more. Nearly two dozen. Twenty altogether. Whoever had put them in her head had used her block to help hide them. It was actually pretty clever.
Could she get rid of them? In her present state, she doubted it, and she had no doubt that these—some of them, at least—were responsible for her current state.
She could at least try.
She reached out to one of them—just to prod gently at it, find out how secure it was, if it had any defences.
Her mind exploded.
Felitïa screamed.
