The sun hadn’t managed to crest the sky to midday, and Rue found herself standing in a jail cell.

  She leaned against the bars, both hands wrapped around cold wrought iron, glaring into a dimly lit hallway. The lighting was odd here: Green light held within a glass dome, down a wooden hallway. It cast an eerie illumination over the place, and kept it lit, but it was still hard to see. She had seen lights like this before, on the torches of horseback scouts of the kingdom that had ventured into the south.

  Her stomach growled loudly.

  “I’m hungry,” Rue called through the bars, the complaint long and drawn out. Her face squished up onto the bars, one eye pressed against it, blurring her vision. Her posture was relatively relaxed, and all things considered, this was the most comfortable place she had found herself in the past several days.

  It was warm but not too warm, and completely dry. The worst part was a shiver of claustrophobia, but that could be tucked back for now.

  “Shut it,” called back the annoyed guard from around the corner. He had been listening to Rue whine for a while now.

  Rue groaned and stepped back from the bars. She turned to face her cell. It was a small room, with a bed that hung suspended from the ground by chains, no legs holding it on the floor. It had a thin cot over a wooden frame. Then she had an odd chamberpot that seemed fixed into the ground, and made of metal. She wasn’t sure how it was cleaned, as it had a hole in the center that disappeared into the stone ground, which already seemed filled with water. She wasn’t going to question it, as at least it didn’t stink in the room.

  And she wasn’t the poor sucker who had to clean a pot that was overfilled.

  The ground was stone, the walls and ceiling too. They had brought her underground, into chambers that seemed carved into the earth itself. Rue had heard that wielders of magic had shaped much of the city, some able to manipulate the very earth, some of stone, metals, water, fire, and so much more that went over her head. With how perfectly the jail was carved, she wouldn’t be surprised. It was suffocating though. There was no natural light, the air was still. It was cool, but surprisingly there was a pleasant warmth despite being within the stone of the world.

  She flopped back onto the cot, resting her back against the smooth wall. All of this was happening because she was hungry. Rue had picked a central path to delve further into the city, following a bustling crowd, and ended up thrust into the largest market she had ever seen. Which was an understatement, the few other markets she had walked through were less than two dozen stalls. There were hundreds at this one.

  She couldn’t help but wonder if it just became busier during the growing months.

  The smells had hit her at the core, smells of meats and bread and pastries. Even upon those were the scents of incense, soaps, herbs, and things she couldn’t place. Since she had successfully swiped goods at much smaller markets, it should have been even easier to snag a sweet pastry without notice when the crowd was flowing like a rapid river.

  Should have. Before she had gotten ten paces away and brought the breakfast dessert up for a bite, a guard had grabbed her wrist, pried the food away, and bound her wrists in biting metal shackles when she tried to fight from their hold with a choice pick of curse words.

  “Can I have my food back?” She called, head tipping back to stare at the perfectly smooth ceiling.

  “Wasn’t yours,” came the gruff response.

  “You just didn’t see me pay for it.” Rue’s nose scrunched as she lied, but her words carried proper accusation.

  “The baker said you didn’t pay. Be quiet!”

  “Eat cow shit!” Rue snapped back, but to her dismay, no call came back. “Actually, I’ll go drop cow shit off on the baker’s table next time. Since she is lying about me not payin’! She’s the one who should be in here!”

  A rough chuckle sounded from the corner. “The baker was a man. Be quiet now, before the Justice decides to have your tongue the way you’re wagging it.”

  “I’ll drop my severed tongue on the baker’s table,” she grumbled back. The guard didn’t bother to answer.

  It felt like hours since anyone had approached or spoke to her again. It had really been about two hours, but Rue was bored, hungry, and increasingly more anxious and upset with being detained. She had started to realize a reality in which she was booted right out of the city that she had nearly died getting to. In the time, she was devising plans, half-baked and often distracted by other intercepting anxieties.

  “Captain Schiro. Welcome back.”

  Rue heard the voice of the guard. It was hard to hear from the cot, and it was the first thing she had heard in all this time ever since the guard started refusing to entertain her complaints, so she shot up and went to the bars to listen closer. There wasn’t much of a sound buffer in the underground jail, making it easy to listen in.

  “Good afternoon, guardsman,” a woman answered back. Her tone was deep and rich with a tired rattle beneath it.

  “I heard a body was found outside of the gates. Is this so?” The guardsman sounded disturbed, his voice falling more hushed. Rue frowned, pushing her ear up harder against the metal poles detaining her. It most certainly was the man she had slaughtered.

  “It is. The body could be no older than a day or so. A merchant carrying textiles and dyes, with two dedicated buyers already laying claim to his goods.” Her tone shifted to one of annoyance. “One of the buyers, a tailor, had the gall to approach my men and demand her portion of the goods right there, with his body still upon the cart.”

  “She isn’t entitled to her order?” The guardsman asked. Then, before Schiro could answer, he spoke again. “Oh, well, I suppose the cart must have been robbed.”

  “It hadn’t,” she answered. “We did note a lack of personal supplies with him. No personal gear, which means no client list. I only know that because of the lovely tailor who wanted to ‘help’,” Schiro sourly commented.

  “I’d just give her what she wanted and send her off,” the guardsman admitted. The Captain tutted.

  “She hadn’t yet paid. And I’d not have her take more than her due supplies. I’ve ordered the supply cart to a Judge, to ensure payment is sent to the rightful next person, and to ensure the two buyers take no more than they should.”

  Rue’s lips thinned. She wondered if it was the same woman she had met that morning, the one waiting on her supplies.

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  “That seems a reasonable way to sort it. Still, how odd that the textiles were not robbed…” The guardsman mused softly.

  “His coin was still on his belt pouch,” Schiro pointed out, “If anything was taken, it was very little it seems. Odd indeed.” This made Rue curse internally. She had missed a chance to get coppers, maybe even silvers? It wasn’t like she had intended on hurting, much less killing, anyone but even a few coins would have kept her from landing in a cell so quickly if she could have just bought food.

  She wasn’t below any kind of theft.

  They switched topics after that and Rue lost interest. Some other business, something that she probably couldn’t understand without context.

  Rue sulked back to the cot, a frown set as her thoughts replayed through everything. So when the rich voice of Captain Schiro suddenly came from in front of herself, Rue startled and nearly fell from the cot. She focused on the green-shadowed face of the woman, from the odd light, giving her skin an eerie glow. She was staring intensely at Rue, arms folded behind her back.

  Schiro’s uniform was much more crisp than the guardsmen she had encountered thus far, the golden royal crest of the sun patched into the breast, which was a forest-green cloth. There were other patches and bangles fit into her uniform which Rue did not recognize.

  “Please state your name.”

  It was a simple request, but Rue hesitated, her eyes narrowing. She finally did answer. “Rue.” It was flat, her frustration on full display. She hoped her worry was hidden, but Schiro’s gaze seemed to strip everything down naked.

  “Tell me why you are in here, Rue.”

  Rue couldn’t tell the color of her eyes, the green washing over them, but her stare was intense and somewhat unsettling. Rue bristled.

  “Shouldn’t your guard know that? They’re the ones who dragged me here. They’ve got rocks for brains though, so I bet they’ve already forgotten.”

  Captain Schiro arched a single brow. “I would like to hear it from you.” Unamused but patient.

  “They believe I stole food, ‘cause they didn’t see me pay.”

  “Did you pay?”

  “I did.”

  Captain Schiro sighed softly. She shook her head. “You didn’t pay,” she confidently returned. Her gaze softened slightly. “I was told it was only a single sweet pastry. Did you take anything else?”

  “Just the pastry,” Rue grumbled after a delay. She felt oddly compelled to not argue the fact that she hadn’t stolen, as if Schiro had looked right through her. The softened expression quickly hardened again.

  It all played through her mind again.

  The fear and anger that gripped her when Ferrow touched her. His blood, everywhere, always looking as if it drenched more in her mind's eye each time she remembered, even though she had never seen how much actually covered him.

  His bag, which she had stolen away afterwards, to survive.

  “What else did you steal?” Her tone rang cold suddenly, surprising Rue who stiffened. It was as if she could see right through her.

  “What? I only took the stupid pastry! I’d barely been in the market for a minute!” She hotly retorted, pushing to her feet. Schiro stared at her for a longer while, exhaling.

  “Then you stole from somewhere else.” The sureness in Schiro’s voice unsettled Rue even further.

  Another lie perched onto the tip of Rue’s tongue. It felt futile though, as everything she said suddenly had a new weight to it. She didn’t know what was happening, but there was something palpable and different.

  Still, she tried again, as it seemed impossible.

  “I stole nothin’ else! Whoever said I did is lying!” Rue doubled-down upon her claim, chest puffing out as she shoved all of her confidence into it.

  And yet, Schiro laughed a humorless laugh, shaking her head slowly. “You did. No one else but you told me so.” At Rue’s puzzled squint, she continued.

  “Let me introduce myself: I am Captain of the Lawful Order, Cecilia Schiro, as appointed by the Royal Guardsman of King Iwhirin, ruler of the Aukinok-blessed Kingdom of Whersirki.”

  “Is that supposed to impress–” Rue started but was quickly cut off by a snap from the woman, so sudden and loud that she flinched.

  “It is my duty to uphold law and order amongst the civilians that live freely of war and turmoil, and to ensure that peace prevails with every merchant, artist, and stranger that is provided entry to this city. Do you know why such a glorious and daunting duty was given to myself, Rue?”

  Rue scowled. “You’re gonna tell me anyway, so just tell me. Though it sounds like you fancy making yourself sound important.”

  Schiro tutted. “No need to take jabs. I was blessed with a very specific magic. Our lady, Aukinok, saw fit to bless my barren family blood with a drop of her own.”

  There was a pause, and Rue just stared. Schiro continued.

  “I can discern truth from lies. It is a power of justice. You cannot hide anything from me. No one can, not even the King himself.”

  “...So I can just bother not to answer. Then you won’t know anythin’.” Rue lit up, as if she had discovered a grand work-around to the magic Schiro boasted. Only, the captain shook her head again.

  “I will assume guilt, within reason, of course. A refusal to answer and let me see the truths is heavy weight, if a Judge is called upon to decide punishment. Do you want this to be a matter of minor theft, or assume something much more serious?”

  Rue bit her cheek and chewed upon it. She sank to the cot again, and with the movement, her stomach made an awful noise as it panged with hunger. Schiro’s thoughts seemed to pause at the sound, and for just a flicker, her gaze softened. Then she hid her own weakness and steeled herself once more.

  “Are you from here, Rue? Kingdom Whesiriki, or of the city?”

  The young woman shook her head slowly. “Not the city,” she mumbled. “I’m from south of here.” She would need to word everything carefully. If her crimes did not plunge her into too much trouble, her upbringing might be enough to damn her intended future here.

  The answer seemed to suffice.

  “I thought so. You do not have a local accent. When did your family arrive?”

  Rue’s gaze fell to her feet. She felt shame crawling through her, and it felt like her own mother was standing over her, asking her questions that did nothing but make her appear a failure.

  You ran away from your family. You abandoned them. Worthless girl. How many times did you fail us?

  Rue answered that with her own thoughts, feeling a shiver down her spine. Every time, mother. I failed you every single time.

  “Today. I came alone. I’m by myself.” Her tone was bitter.

  Mild sympathy struck Schiro’s features. Rue missed it with her averted stare. It was gone after a moment anyway.

  “Alright. Tell me what you stole, Rue.” Her voice almost seemed a bit more gentle, but Rue felt it was a sliver of honey over a woman of condemning justice.

  Rue swallowed and held her breath. She couldn’t lie, and if she didn’t answer, she may as well be ordered to leave the city and re-enter the damning cold. Or perhaps remain imprisoned, which was even worse. The underground walls were suffocating despite the measure of comfort, and she longed for open and free air. It felt like boiling water in her chest, rising into her throat, heat pulsing through her body like red-hot needles. No matter what she said, she couldn’t win. Any answer would lead back to her crime.

  The boiling water spilled over.

  “He was going to rape me. I think he was. I didn’t–” Her voice caught and her throat felt tight. Rue hadn’t expected it to be so difficult to say, and doubt swirled in her core, even as the events rapid-fired over and over again in her mind.

  There was a long pause. She could not make herself look at the Captain, and her entire body was tense, pressure building up.

  “What are you saying, Rue?” Schiro asked carefully, the words paced infuriatingly slow.

  Rue’s lips pulled back into a snarl. Her green eyes tilted up and stared back at Schiro in a pinning challenge. “The merchant was going to rape me! Or - I don’t know, hurt me, something! I had to protect myself!” She was on her feet again, and she didn’t know what moment she had actually stood. “I stole his life.”

  There had been a plan, a diversion that she wanted to try, but it was all flying out of the window as her emotions pitched. No, it didn’t fly out of the window, because there were none here. It was suffocating, the stone walls suddenly too close, the heat running away in favor of the cold confines of the earth.

  Schiro was now openly stunned, staring at Rue, her mind making some of the connections. She spoke slowly and carefully, voice low enough to not alert anyone listening nearby. It was probability futile, with the guard just around the corner.

  “I…Are you talking about the merchant found dead this morning?”

  “Yes,” Rue answered without a sliver of hesitation. “He offered me passage on his cart in the cold night, for no cost he told me.” Her breaths felt as tight as her throat. “How was I supposed to know what he wanted from me instead? I never wanted to hurt him.”

  She had made it to the front of the bars now, and she felt the heat churning within her body, tears stinging at the corner of her eyes as she confessed; it was what she had planned to confess, but not this way. She was devouring the shock on Schiro’s face, though there was something else akin to sadness as Rue made her case. It only fueled her anger more.

  A long silence fell between them as the weighted truth hung between them.

  It went long enough that Rue was about to burst again.

  As if to snap that tension, Schiro nodded once, her eyes never leaving the young woman. “You speak the truth. I am sorry that this happened to you, Rue. Your circumstances will be considered when I speak to the Judge.” Her commanding tone had fallen as if she were speaking to a gentle child.

  Rue sneered at this and stepped back to return to the cot, curling her legs over the side to hug at them.

  “Whatever. I’d do it again,” she asserted. All of her anger and hot emotion had drained out in a sudden but full force. Now she was tired. The walls were still too close, and it felt warm again, but too warm. Goosebumps prickled at her skin as if it were too cold.

  Schiro didn’t depart immediately, observing the young woman. Rue didn’t look up when she finally heard her steps depart.

  It wasn’t much longer before a tray of food was delivered to the cell, dropped off by a silent guard.