“Depends on whether you decide to show your special attention to any of the other prisoners.”
A few weeks before, Bragger and his ale-soaked lackeys had decided they’d had enough of the wracking coughs coming from the older man in the cell next to mine. The man’s cries for help cut through the layers of numbness that I had built in my mind. Although the dirty conditions and spoiled food had weakened my health, and my gift, I had managed to reach through the bars to give Bragger a nice jolt of heat on his bare forearm. The beating had stopped, but the prisoner had died that night, and I had inherited his ankle chain as a reward for my interference.
“None of your concern either way, Firefilth,” said Bragger. “We might just turn our attentions to you next time. Won’t last a day once we’re through with you.”
Inside, my stomach lurched, but outwardly I was as calm as glass. “You’ve been promising me that for months, and here I am. I think you’ve become rather fond of me. Templeton here has been giving me extra rations.”
Templeton, the smallest and quietest of the three, started to protest, but Bragger just grinned. “I won’t fall for that again, turning us on each other so we forget about you. I ask you again, you dirty bit of char. What time is it?”
“Time to burn all of you into ashes.”
I hadn’t realized I’d said the words aloud until he laughed. “Can’t have much fire left in you or you would’ve done that a long time ago. But just in case, Rager, you got the bucket?”
“Right here,” said Rager, scraping the metal bucket against the bars.
A key snicked in the lock and the door swung open.
“What time is it?” Bragger asked, low and serious, the tone that told me it would only get worse if I didn’t play along.
I gritted my teeth. “Time for my dousing.” He smiled into my face, a mask of cruel anticipation.
I concentrated on staying still, not backing away. No matter how I tried, though, I jerked when the frigid water crashed over me, and hissing steam rose from my skin. The guards doubled over with laughter.
“That just never gets old,” Bragger said, fouling the air near my face with his breath. “A whistling kettle in the shape of a girl. I wonder what would happen if we poured out all that red tea?”
I lifted my hand slowly to brush back a lock of soaked hair. His eyes followed the movement, alert.
“I’m not scared of you,” he said. But he kept his distance as Rager stepped forward and swung another bucket of water, this one full of chunks of ice that cut my cheeks and tangled in my hair. I gasped, wishing I could control the steam that so entertained them. But then again, without the steam, there would be no fear. I’d seen what they did to the prisoners who didn’t scare them.
A third bucket soaked my back. I started to shiver.
“I don’t know why the executioner hasn’t come for you yet,” said Bragger, “but it’s only a matter of time.”
He gave a swift kick to my shoulder, knocking me off-balance. I curled up in a ball as the cell door closed with a clang, their laughter moving farther away.
I am as cold as the prison walls. I feel nothing.
Ice cracked like the breaking of bones.
I woke with a jerk, heart racing. A dark shape, something strange and inhuman, had been hovering over me, touching my cheek in a blistering caress. I blinked away the dream, and the prison came into focus.
Frost swept the prison in a white wave, crusting over stone walls and insinuating itself into every crack and keyhole. It spilled across the floor and hardened into glittering sheets that stopped inches away, leaving me on an island of bare stone.
Booted feet scraped to a halt outside my cell. I stifled a groan. Not again. No more guards tonight. But guards didn’t smell of oiled leather and soap. My eyes flicked up to a tall, hooded figure hulking outside my cell, a torch held in his right hand. My spine tightened and fine hairs rose on my neck.
Another hooded shape joined the first. This figure was smaller and leaned on a walking stick that he tapped with each step. A short white beard flowed over the collar of his robe.
“So you think this is the one?” He spoke quietly, his refined accent jarringly out of place in this pit of lowborn murderers and thieves.
“Look,” said the taller figure, his voice deeper, more vigorous. “See how the ice refuses to touch her?” He sucked in a breath and blew it out with force. The water in the air turned to ice and fell over me in tiny pellets that steamed back into vapor as they met my skin.
I bit off a moan, my eyes wide with terror. So these were Frostbloods, who had a power in complete opposition to my own. I struggled to keep my breathing even, to hide my panic.
“You see?” His voice was low but exultant.