“When did you discover this place?”
“I was nine. Exploring the entire prison at night trying to find a way out.” She lifted her fingers to tangle them in the starlight, letting her magic drink in the cold purity and unbearable beauty until her blood seemed to sing with it. “I never did find a way out, but I found the next best thing.”
“Will you tell me what this means to you?” he asked, his voice quiet.
She stretched her fingertips toward the starlight as far as they would go. It was never far enough. “It’s freedom, or the closest thing to it that I can find.”
Her heart thudded, and her breath caught as the words she’d never said to anyone gathered in her throat, surrounded by the icy distance of the stars that had always felt like home. And then he unfolded his arms and slid one under her shoulders, pulling her to his side where she could lean against him if she wanted.
She wanted. She wanted so many things that she could never have. But just for tonight, hidden from the eyes of the warden and the other prisoners, safe from the fear that Javan would be killed, she could pretend that the things she wanted were all within her reach.
Moving slowly, she tipped her head against his shoulder and wiggled until she fit against his side like the second half of a whole. When he squeezed her gently and rested his cheek against her hair, the words came pouring out.
“I would lie here and find the blue star . . . planet. And I would pretend that’s where I belonged. If I lived there, I wouldn’t be trapped underground, afraid every second of every day. I wouldn’t be a slave.” Her voice shook and tears slid down her face. “I have a mother who keeps me. A father who loves me. And I can go anywhere, do anything, without worrying that someone will see me for who I am and say the only good elf is a dead elf.”
She pressed her lips closed and waited, every second an eternity, for his response. Did he hate dark elves? Was he afraid of them? Had she just lost something precious between them?
He pressed his lips to the crown of her head and said, “I’m glad you finally told me.”
“I finally . . . Wait. You knew?”
His fingers traced lazy patterns across her back. “I figured it out.”
“How?” She sat up and stared at him, her pulse racing, magic buzzing.
“It’s all right,” he said. “I only know because I pay extra attention to everything about you. When you asked me about dark elves, I could see it meant something to you. That my answer meant something to you, which made it personal. And then I remembered that runes carved in iron subdue fae magic, and that elvish magic is a close cousin, so it would dampen yours a bit. Plus you’re so much stronger and faster than me, and I’ve never seen your ears.”
“And you aren’t scared to be around a monster?” It hurt to say the word aloud, but she had to be sure.
He sat up. “Why would you call yourself that?”
She shrugged.
“Sajda.”
“It’s what the warden always says.” She couldn’t look at him. “And the reason Dabir lost his mind is because he tried to attack me, and I hit him and drew blood, and then I don’t know what happened. I just . . . The blood called to my magic, and I took some in my hands, and then I was seeing everything about him, and I knew how to tell a story—”
“You wielded a nightmare.”
“You understand what I did?” She leaned toward him.
“Only what I learned in school. Dark elves can read the hearts and minds of the living things they touch, and they can borrow qualities, manipulate the physical being, or wield a nightmare that never leaves.”
“That sounds pretty monstrous.” She turned to stare at the stars so he wouldn’t see the tears that were back in her eyes.
“It sounds like power. Power is neither good nor evil. It just is. It’s what people do with power that matters. And I know you, Sajda. I know you better than I know anyone else. You are a girl full of courage, intelligence, strength, and beauty from the inside out. It isn’t monstrous to defend yourself or others.”
“Dabir might never get better.”
“He’d better hope he doesn’t because if I meet him again, he’s going to have a whole different nightmare to contend with.” His voice was flat.
She raised her face to the silvery starlight and felt its purity pour into her, a bolt of cold fire.
“What do you do with the starlight?” he asked.
She looked at him. “What do you mean?”
He smiled, his eyes lit with wonder. “I mean, you are literally swallowing starlight. Or your magic is. Have you seen yourself?”
She turned away from the skylight and held out her arms. Her skin shimmered, a brilliant silver-white that almost hurt to look at.
“Did you borrow something from the stars? Or is it something you plan to manipulate and use?” He sounded fascinated.
“I have no idea. I mean, I borrowed their essence—it’s cold and pure—but I don’t know if I could use it.”
“Want to try?” He grinned at her, and she laughed, her tears drying on her cheeks.
He patted around the blanket nest until he found an old mug she used to keep filled with water until it cracked down the side. “Here. See what starlight does to this.”
She took it in her silver-white hands and let the magic that hummed and crawled beneath her skin seize the cracked porcelain of the mug. There was a flash of brilliant light and icy liquid silver poured out of her palms to coat the mug until it glowed like it had been dipped in real silver.
The cold bit deep, and she dropped it to the blanket. It struck and shattered into tiny fragments that melted into nothing.
“Whoa.” Javan patted the blanket where seconds earlier the shards had been, and then met her eyes. “Just think what you could do with the sun.”
Pain seared the skin beneath her cuffs and she pulled her hands to her chest.
“Do the cuffs make it painful to do magic?”
She nodded.
“That’s why you have scars beneath them?”
Another nod.
“Maybe we can get them off of you.”
She turned her left wrist and held it up until the cuff was illuminated by starlight. The runes were tiny shadows carved into its surface, and the lock was a slim crescent of darkness cut deep into the iron. “I’ve tried. I’d need a key, and only the warden and the magistrate’s head guards have shackle keys. The magistrate’s guards are only here during tournament rounds, and they don’t keep their keys where I can see them. And the warden keeps the key hidden in her quarters.”
His voice was still gentle, but there was a lethal edge to it. “The warden is the monster, Sajda. Not you.”
She pushed him back down onto the blankets and curled up beside him. “You can sleep up here tonight. No one will find you. Once the bars raise tomorrow morning, we’ll get you back in your cell. And then we have four days until the next combat round to get you back into fighting shape.”