There wasn’t anything she could do to help her. Arista looked around. How many of the women were here because of something frivolous? How many here were innocent?
In the cell, the women sat in groups of two or three. Some played games with bits of stone and straw, others chatted quietly. The one Arista had knocked out earlier lay on the ground, unmoving. They sat in silence, groans echoing in the stone walls all around them. One might go crazy from listening to that for too long.
The sudden sound of keys turning in the lock caught Arista’s attention. All the women stopped what they were doing and looked up.
“You—come with me.” The man pointed at Arista.
She stayed where she was. Grace gripped her arm tight with both her hands. “Why? I won’t whore myself out for a piece of bread.”
The jailer growled and stepped into the cell. “You’re needed for other purposes. It’s time to go. Now, I can drag you, or you can walk—it don’t much matter to me, girl.”
She glanced at Grace, who stood trembling with fear. While the girl watched with wide eyes, Arista reached under the collar of her dress and pulled the silk scarf free. The one she wore always for strength.
“It’s okay,” Arista whispered, even though it wasn’t. She wrapped the scarf around the girl’s shoulders and tied it under her chin. “Don’t give up. There is a big world out there, just waiting for you. Someone very special gave this to me and now I’m giving it to you.”
Tears fell down Grace’s cheeks. “Thank you, miss.”
Arista fought back her own tears. This had all happened much faster than she’d expected. Was it dawn already? Arista lifted her chin and glared at their jailer.
“I can walk on my own.”
The guard muttered something and slammed the door shut behind her. He started down a different hallway than Wild had exited from.
Arista’s throat tightened as she followed the jailer. The hallway grew darker, and the lantern the guard held threw little light. Arista used the wall to steady her balance, and cringed at the slimy feel of the stone. The air in the tunnel grew chillier, and still they walked on. The moans and screams faded behind them, and the stale air took on an earthier quality.
“Where are we going?” she asked his back, but the man only grunted. “Am I to be hanged before dawn? With no say to my own innocence? That is not justice.”
She might as well have been speaking to the stone walls for all the reaction she got from him. Finally he stopped and pulled the keys from his belt. The door opened soundlessly, and the jailer lifted the lantern high over his head. “Go.” His one-word command propelled her forward, but she came up short outside the prison.
A hooded figure stepped from the shadows and handed the man a bag of coins. The jailer grabbed it and slammed the door closed behind her.
“Come quickly,” the figure said. “They are not the most trustworthy sort.”
Arista looked back. Whoever this was, they were saving her from Newgate, but for what? Had Wild concocted an even worse punishment for her? “Who are you?”
“You will see in a moment, miss, but we have to hurry.” The figure started across the yard. After a moment’s hesitation, she followed. Wherever he was leading her, it was away from the prison.
A carriage awaited on the next corner, and when the hooded figure rapped twice on the door, it swung open. She slowed to a stop. Had Wild bought her freedom, just so he could kill her himself? Or did he plan to torture her first? She prepared herself to run.
“Where is she?” a familiar voice asked. The figure pointed at her and then lifted the hood from his head. Tomas.
And there, leaning from the carriage window, was Grae.
Arista sat in the cabin of Grae’s ship, fighting the rolling in her stomach that was not caused by the ship, but by the cold fury in Grae’s eyes. She sat on his bed, arms wrapped around her middle. For twenty minutes, she’d been trying not to spill the contents of her stomach onto the polished wood floor. They had sat in silence for so long that she was ready to crawl out of her own skin. It didn’t help that Grae had not stopped pacing back and forth in the small cabin since they’d arrived.
“How did you find me?” she finally asked.
He dragged his fingers through his hair and sat down next to her on the bunk.
“My mother sent for me when she found Father in his study. He was…not in a good place, but he told me what had happened. I went to your room but you were gone. I found the note you left your maid, and when I confronted her, she begged me to find you. Said that something went wrong. It wasn’t until a note came to the house, addressed to Becky, that we knew where you were.” He glanced at her face but didn’t look her in the eye. “I couldn’t leave you there. But that doesn’t mean I can forgive you.”