Perfect Shadows

chapter 31

Hal lounged restlessly in his narrow bed. The chamber he had been given was comfortable enough, well above ground and with windows and a fireplace, but it was still a cell and the sound of the bolt sliding home hit him in the pit of his stomach every time. He had a table and two stools, and Diabolus had even allowed him some books. He didn’t sleep well at night, due to the idleness of his days, and the fears of his future that would come nibbling around the edges of his thoughts. It was nearly as bright as day in the room, due to the full moon reflecting on the snow, but not quite bright enough to read, and he had already used up his day’s allowance of candles, even though the smell of the tallow made him ill. His allowance would afford the more expensive wax candles, but all the gaolers brought were tallow. He wondered if that was by the orders of the Queen, who was, he mused, adept at indulging her parsimony to vent her spleen. He scratched his unkempt beard absently; he had seen neither bath nor comb since the day of the arrest and was filthy and verminous.

The trial was set for the nineteenth, three days from now, though they might as well have held it immediately for all the defense he would be able to make. Hal started at the sound of the bolt, drawing himself up into a crouch at the head of the narrow bed. He had daily been expecting them to drag him down to the cellars for questioning, and every day that they did not only made him the more certain that they would do so the next. He was no longer so naive as to think that his rank would protect him. His jaw dropped as he recognized the figure in the doorway, even half turned as he was, to speak with the guard who let him in.

“Kit! How did you—I haven’t been allowed visitors,” he heard himself babbling and shut his mouth with a snap.