My head felt heavy. My body was stuck in place, like I’d been hit by an armored slug. Wisps of white light floated across my closed eyes, which stung less every time I forced them open.

I was still there, in the same room, but now I was behind a row of dark, metal bars. She had called me prisoner. This either had something to do with those secrets or it was because of the Cup. Why did I have to put my name in the Cup? I wondered now how much they could charge me with. It was laughable to think that I’d believed I was having an amicable chat with the contessa of Palunia.

I tried to remember a case of a highborn Lumen being incarcerated, but there hadn’t been any in a long time. A couple cases from the history texts—like Roala Nu Horga, who’d made an attempt on the old duke’s life. Or like Terisi Gi Almo, who had been arranging to have Lumen he didn’t like killed with Grey assassins. He was presumably caught because Grey would make terrible assassins. Most uncooperative Lumen just got sent to the water pits for a few weeks.

But I think I was the first in recent history to be locked away. At least I could go down famous for something if they had me killed.

I sighed and shook my stiff head. I probably wouldn’t be executed. It would set a bad precedent. My thoughts were swimming around, contradicting each other, and I was forgetting them as quickly as they were coming to me. I just needed a bit more rest.

It was hard to judge how much time passed in the room. There were no windows or sundials (not that I could read them). Just dim orange light flickering from the fires below. I kept waking up every so often, wondering if the contessa was coming back, wondering if anyone would bring me food, needing to know what was happening outside with my family and Westalyn. Had it been a day? A week?

I checked after waking up the fourth or fifth time if I could still move all my limbs. They seemed to be in place. Still chained, of course, because bars weren’t enough. I sighed and leaned back against the wall, just observing the room around me. Then I heard the noise.

It was like a soft pattering. A bit like the yearly rains, but slow and heavy. Pat, pat, pat. Exactly what kinds of creatures live below this floor? I wondered. Did something get through? Or is it coming from the other side? Through my exhaustion I managed to find fear.

The thing gradually came into view. It was a shadow, not far off now, and it seemed to be approaching me. Was it the secret? Was it coming to reveal itself to me? Maybe the contessa’s box wasn’t enough to contain a Lumen’s rightful knowledge. I tried to get up, but my chains jerked me back. I was locked to the damn floor.

"Hello," I offered, my voice quivering. "Are you the secret?"

The being took a step closer (pat, pat), and then another. Soon it was on the other side of the bars. An ember rose up beneath us then, illuminating its features.

"You!" I gasped, my voice hoarse and useless.

Then I was unconscious again. Or at least I don’t remember what happened next. When I came to, I forced my eyes back open, but there was no sign of her. The Grey woman who had ridden in the chariot beside me.

I didn’t wake up again until I was being forcibly removed from my cell by a couple of red guards. They unclasped the lock from my chains, pulling them out of the steel ring on the floor. They re-tightened the chains with so much force they were denting into my skin.

"Hey!" I barked. The contessa was one thing, but I wouldn’t take outright abuse from red cloaks. They ignored me, of course, and set the lock back in place.

Then I was yanked to my feet. My head was throbbing and spinning, and I thought I was going to be sick. "Slow down," I muttered. I was losing consciousness again. Dammit. Whatever the contessa had done to me, I hoped it wasn’t permanent. Each time they pulled I came to again, but it was painful. I couldn’t really walk. They practically dragged me along to the other side of the chamber through the doorway.

However much time had passed in the cell, it had given me so many strange dreams. Flashes of the ancient wizards, of faraway planets, of my mother, and...that Grey woman. That one had felt closer to real. I highly doubted the contessa would give the Grey free reign of the palace. But then again, they had a feast while I sat in a cell, so anything was possible.

“Wh—where...” We’d gone the length of one of the floating corridors. My voice was strained and I was exhausted. My feet kept hitting the stairs as they forced me down to a lower level. Maybe the same one we’d left the Grey in. I couldn’t focus on my surroundings long enough to figure them out. I blacked out again.

***

I came to in a stone chamber, with the eleven others who’d been drawn. The Grey stood in their usual tattered, colorless robes, their heads covered in black, grey, and chestnut hair.

“What?” I choked. I was expecting to be thrown in a desert cell or taken to the high court for a water pit assignment. This...this was worse.

Behind me I heard a familiar voice. “Guards?” I blinked, not understanding. I managed to turn and spot him: Jiyorga N’a Otero, looking as decadent as always, today in a robe that faded from vibrant orange at the hood to deep red at the bottom. It trailed far behind him, and on his shoulders were our family gems carved into large spikes. I watched his white-painted lips as he spoke. “Are they all chained?”

“All but the lord,” one of the red replied.

“Hey!” I tried to shout, but it came out slurred. Jiyorga’s eyes locked with mine and I hoped he saw my anger. He gazed at me for a brief moment before turning away.

“Get them all bound,” he said. “The Grand Chariot is ready.”

“Gebackere!” I tried to yell after him, but nothing was coming out right. Damn the contessa, I willed, and waited for the Great Wizard of Thought to strike me down. Damn all these Lumen who’d turn their back on one of their own over something so trivial.

My forearms were aching in the tight chains, darkening under their pressure. There were hardly any patches of paint remaining on my hands and arms, and my navy robe was starting to fray at the sleeves.

I winced as one of the guards jerked me toward the Grey by my chains and hooked another chain between the closest one and I. The twelve of us were divided into two chained rows, and I was at the back of my line.

But I kept blacking out. One moment we were stationary, and the next we were outside. I was walking barefoot in the sand. I couldn’t remember when I lost my boots. Had I been wearing them in the cell? It was too exhausting to think about. We came out beneath an enormous chariot, which was more like a desert ship. It was made of spun gold and some light metal. Long, solid strands nearly as wide as I was, wound around each other, branching out at the back of the chariot into fine points in all directions. In the space between the metallic strands were gemstones even my family couldn’t afford. Red, green, and blue, they were the size of a single chariot each, and sparkled gently in the predawn light. The light that confirmed my fears—it was time for the procession.

Next Chapter: The Procession