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  me, I asked, “I thought Yelena discouraged these Ixian safe

  havens?”

  “She does. But they are vital to me. And until she has a

  better reason than promoting goodwill between Sitia and Ixia,

  I’m keeping them.” He glanced at the sky. “Come on in. We

  have much to do and we’re on a schedule.”

  He led me to a room filled with clothing, wigs, props and

  makeup. If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought I was

  backstage at the Citadel’s theater.

  “Sit.” Valek pointed to a stool in front of a mirror. He

  poured water into a bowl and mixed a yellow paste. Turning

  me so I faced my ref lection, he gathered my long brown hair

  in his hands.

  “Sorry, Opal. But—”

  “A person’s hair is one of the most recognizable features.”

  I repeated his lesson. “Go ahead. Get it over with.” I closed

  my eyes as his scissors sliced through the locks.

  As Valek cut and dyed my hair, I avoided looking in the

  mirror. With my hair wet and wrapped in a towel, he handed

  me the bowl of dye, a brush, comb and a robe.

  He gestured to the washroom, but didn’t meet my gaze.

  “You’ll be searched. And…um…your hair color needs to

  match. You know?” He squirmed in embarrassment.

  I laughed when I understood. What else could I do? Cry?

  Inside the washroom, I followed his instructions and dyed

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  my pubic hair blond. It would be interesting to explain that to Kade. Although… I hadn’t received a letter from him,

  so it might not be a problem. Pain f lared in my chest, but I

  squelched it. This wasn’t a good time. I needed to focus.

  When I finished, I joined Valek. “Blond? I always wanted

  to be a redhead.”

  He smiled. “Red would draw attention. Better to go with

  a dirty blond…I mean a…darker blond color…closer to light

  brown.” Now he looked panicked.

  “You’re

  blushing!”

  Huffing, he stabbed a finger at the stool. “Sit.” He rum-

  maged for another bowl. This one contained a f lesh-colored

  goo. He then transformed me from Opal Cowan into Rhea

  Jewelrose.

  I believed I was both physically and mentally ready for the

  mission. But when the wagon pulled to a stop in front of the

  small farmhouse late that evening, a rush of cold fear swept

  through me, leaving me weak. I wobbled.

  “Rhea, are you all right?” Valek asked. He had called me

  by my new name since putting the finishing touches on my

  disguise.

  “Fine.” I inhaled deeply, pulling in the cool night air and

  releasing it.

  I nodded at the two men who drove the team of horses.

  One stepped down and unlocked the wagon. It was more like

  a metal box on wheels. At least the two small windows let in

  air through the bars. It was empty.

  “The makeup will stay fresh for a few days. Don’t get it

  wet. Get in and get out as fast as possible,” Valek said.

  “Yes, sir,” I said.

  “And don’t get caught. Yelena will kill me,” he joked.

  “I’ll be careful for your sake.”

  “Good. See you on the other side.”

  My “companions” wore guard uniforms from the Jewelrose

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  Clan. I studied their builds and looked for the clues Valek had taught me to see through a disguise, but didn’t recognize them.

  A part of me had hoped Valek would use Ari and Janco as my

  escorts.

  I climbed inside, reviewing the plan in my mind to keep

  from screaming. The door clanged shut and the lock clicked

  into place.

  After a few moments, the convicted murderer named

  Rhea Jewelrose was on her way to start her prison sentence

  at Wirral.

  “Transfer papers?” the bored receptionist asked.

  I stood between my escorts. They had manacled my wrists

  behind my back before we arrived at Fulgor’s security HQ.

  Valek’s people had forged the paperwork and I hoped no one

  would discover the fakes.

  “Collin,” the receptionist called over his shoulder. “Take

  her down to cell five.”

  A Fulgor guard arrived and one of my escorts removed my

  manacles.

  “She’s all yours,” he said as they left.

  I bit my lip and rubbed my wrists, waiting.

  “Come on,” Collin said. He swept his arm out, indicating

  I should go first.

  I glanced at his weapon belt, spotting a pair of manacles.

  He chuckled. “I don’t think we need them. You’re not going

  to cause trouble, are you?”

  “No,

  sir.”

  “Good.” He put his hand on my shoulder and guided me

  to the prison cells below HQ.

  Unfortunately, I’d been here before. I would count the

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  number of different cells I’d been in over the last year, but

  didn’t want to start… What? Crying? Or laughing hysteri-

  cally? Both seemed possible at this moment. I swallowed the

  knot of emotion.

  I spent the night in cell number five. When my prison es-

  corts arrived the next morning, my disguise and training were

  put to the ultimate test. I tucked a strand of my dirty blond

  hair behind my ear. No hair ties were allowed and with the

  chin-length style, my hair tended to fall into my face which

  itched from the putty. I now had full cheeks and a pudgy nose

  compliments of Valek.

  “Another killer?” Nic asked Eve.

  They stood on the other side of the bars. Eve consulted a

  clipboard. “Yep. Killed her husband in a fit of jealous rage.”

  “Really?” He peered at me in confusion. “She doesn’t look

  the type.”

  “I’m not. It was a horrible accident,” I said, pitching my

  voice a little higher than normal. “I’m innocent.”

  Nic glanced at Eve.

  “He fell on her knife fourteen times. A real klutz,” she

  said.

  He snorted. “What is it about the cold season? We get twice

  the number of murders during those two months.” He shook

  his head and unlocked the door. “Stand back.”

  I moved away and he entered, grabbing the manacles from

  his belt. A powerful and dizzying sense of déjà vu hit me and

  I swayed.

  “Easy there,” he said, touching my arm to steady me.

  I blinked. Just when I thought I understood him, Nic was

  being…nice? Unexpected.

  He manacled my hands behind me and guided me from

  the cell, resting his hand on my back. I guessed it was safer to have a prisoner in front where you could see them.

  As we walked through Fulgor’s streets, fear simmered. To

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  distract myself from my impending ordeal, I said, “I can tell

  you why there are more murders during the cold season.”

  “Is this a confession?” Nic asked.

  “No.” One thing Valek had stressed—criminals always pro-claimed their innocence.

  “The cold’s the reason,” Eve said. “Her husband warmed

  himself i
n another woman’s bed.”

  “Not quite,” I said.

  “Oh?” Eve asked.

  “He was in our bed when he had his…mishap.”

  “That is cold,” Nic said.

  “But that’s not the reason you have more murders,” I

  said.

  “Do tell,” Nic said. His voice was edged with sarcasm.

  I ignored his tone. “Sunlight. Or rather the lack of sunlight.

  It turns everything gray. It’s depressing and makes you crazy.

  You’ll do anything for a bit of color.” I had remembered Kade

  commenting on this phenomenon.

  “I don’t think bright red blood is a nice change of pace, but

  then again my partner insists I’m color-blind,” Nic said.

  “You

  are color-blind. No one but you would ever match

  lime-green pants with an orange shirt,” Eve quipped.

  We remained silent until we reached the outer gates of

  Wirral. Even though I had been there before, the prison’s

  presence hit me like a physical blow to my guts. I blanched

  and skidded to a stop.

  “I hope you’re not one of those people who go crazy with

  a lack of sunlight,” Nic said. “Because there’s no sunlight in

  there.” He studied me.

  No need to act, I let my fear show. “He killed himself,” I

  whispered.

  Eve raised an eyebrow. “Fourteen times?”

  “He had bad aim.”

  Nic laughed. “First time I’ve heard that one!” He tugged

  me into motion.

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  As we drew closer, I asked Nic, “Is everyone in there for

  life?”

  “No. But some are serving life on the installment plan.”

  He noticed my confusion. “They keep getting into trouble

  and coming back.”

  The officers at the gate scanned the papers Eve handed

  them. One of them scrawled a signature and I was officially

  delivered to Wirral.

  “Good luck, Rhea. I hope you survive,” Nic said as a female

  CO led me inside.

  I thought I was scared before, but entering the prison cre-

  ated a whole new level of panic and fear. It had been easy to

  plan this when I was comfortable and free. Valek had been

  right, actual experience was another story entirely.

  Taken to a bare room, the CO unlocked the manacles

  and ordered me to strip. She stayed and watched. Her face

  remained impassive as I removed the jumper.

  “Undergarments, too,” she ordered.

  I added them to the pile. She kicked them aside. “Turn

  around, lean on the wall with your hands on the blue prints

  and your feet on the yellow prints on the f loor. That position is called Secured. Remember it. The guards will frequently

  order you to assume it.”

  The blue prints were above my head and the yellow foot-

  shaped ones were spread far apart. When I did as instructed,

  I felt more vulnerable and helpless than when Devlen had

  chained me up. At least then, I had clothes on. And I would

  rather endure the pain of a pressure point than be strip-searched ever again. The woman’s rough hands left no part

  of my body untouched. Her fingers found holes and creases I

  didn’t even know I had, and thoroughly explored the ones I

  was well aware of until they ached.

  A knock stopped the search. Thank fate.

  “Don’t move,” she ordered.

  Voices and a bang. Then another set of hands was on me,

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  rougher than the first. Alarmed, I looked over my shoulder

  and protested. “She already—”

  “Shut up and listen.” Her fingers dug into my skin. “We’re

  in charge. You have no rights. You gave all that up when you

  murdered your husband. So if we want to recheck a search,

  you’ll stand there until we’re satisfied. Even if it takes us twenty times.”

  I bit my lip as I was searched again. When she finished, she

  tossed a gray prison jumper at me. “Get dressed.”

  All my own clothes were gone. My lock picks and few other

  tools hidden inside the fabric gone with them. She hadn’t given me undergarments and I was smart enough not to ask.

  When I finished, she studied me. Her light brown hair had

  been twisted back into a knot. She had dark brown eyes and

  a lean build.

  “I’m Lieutenant Cicek. You’ve been assigned to my block.

  This means I decide everything for you. When you eat, when

  you sleep, when you work and when you get fresh air. Keep

  me happy and you’ll do well. Cause trouble and you’ll end up

  in the SMU with Lieutenant Finn. I’m an indulgent mother

  compared to him.”

  The LT led me through a maze of doors and lantern-lit

  corridors until we reached a set of metal doors. She unlocked

  them with a f lourish and revealed a long block of cells. “Wel-

  come to the Black Widows’ Wing. Your home for the rest of

  your life.” Nodding to the correctional officer who sat at a

  utilitarian metal desk, Cicek pulled me along.

  The dank smell of body odor and fear hung in the air and

  clung to me as I followed the LT down the row. The other

  prisoners watched me through their bars but didn’t make a

  sound.

  “We like it quiet in here,” the LT explained. “Outside this

  wing you can scream all you want, but if you want the privi-

  lege of fresh air, you’ll keep your mouth shut.”

  She stopped and opened the fourth cell on the right.

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  Pushing me inside, she slammed the door. After the metal-

  lic echoes died, the silence rushed in.

  I needed to endure the rest of the day to orient myself and

  plan. Valek and I had chosen my crime with care. Murderers

  were housed in two adjacent wings—one for men, the other

  for women—and one f loor above the SMU. However, with

  all the turns and stairs to arrive at my cell, I needed to be

  certain they hadn’t changed the location. And I needed to

  make sure the COs’ shifts remained the same. Hopefully, the

  LT would leave tonight. Cicek appeared way too competent

  for my comfort.

  Lunch was the first time I was allowed to leave my cell. LT

  Cicek and two other COs escorted all of us—a dozen Black

  Widows—to the dining hall. The place reeked with an un-

  identifiable stench that overpowered my senses and made me

  gag. I forced myself to eat to keep up my strength.

  After the meal, we were marched down four f lights of stairs

  to the exercise yard. I scanned the square space. It was nestled in the center of the prison. Almost sheer walls surrounded it.

  High above, a patch of blue sky let dim sunlight ref lect down, casting shadows on what appeared to be a training course with

  obstacles, weights, a running track and an open area.

  As my fellow Black Widows hurried to meet up with

  friends, Cicek pointed out the armed COs standing up on

  the third f loor balconies. “They have crossbows and tend to

  shoot first and don’t bother to ask questions.”

  I noticed COs stationed in the yard didn’t have any weap-

  ons. And now that I thought about it, the LT was unarmed,


  as well. I asked her why.

  Her face hardened. “Even though it’s unlikely, there’s a

  slim chance one of the inmates could take our weapons. We’re

  trained to handle ourselves without weapons. Remember

  that.”

  Her gaze drilled into me until I nodded. She waved over

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  one of the COs in the yard. His dark skin resembled the Sand-

  seed Clan members, and his bald head reminded me of Moon

  Man, Yelena’s Story Weaver. Moon Man had died during the

  Warper Battle. A sudden wish for Devlen’s comforting pres-

  ence washed over me.

  “This is the Black Sergeant. He’s in charge of the yard,”

  the LT said.

  He

  nodded.

  “Behave and follow the rules,” Cicek told me.

  “What are the rules?” I asked.

  “Depends on my mood,” the Black Sergeant said.

  I would have laughed except he didn’t look like he was

  joking. Cicek left and the Black Sergeant returned to his post, leaving me. I glanced at the inmates. All females and only

  a few used the training equipment. The others preferred to

  gather into groups.

  Leaning against the far wall, I watched the activity. The

  first sign of trouble was the glances. A large cluster of women kept looking at me. When they spread out and approached, I

  prepared an escape plan. The Black Sergeant kept an eye on

  us, but he didn’t appear too concerned.

  “Hey, new girl,” the one woman called. Slightly broader

  than the others, she was also a step ahead of them. “Did you

  enjoy killing your husband?”

  I smiled despite my rapid pulse. “I think you’re mistaking

  me for someone else. I didn’t kill anyone.”

  “You can quit the innocence act. We know better,” she said

  in an unfriendly tone. She came closer.

  Valek’s patient instructions replayed in my head, calming my

  heartbeat. I examined my opponent. A classic bully intent on

  making a point. Talking my way out of this wouldn’t work.

  “You know nothing.” I pushed off the wall and strode

  toward her, stopping mere inches away. I confronted her. “Go

  away before you get hurt.”

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  Her gang members laughed, but she didn’t. Perhaps it was

  because she read the intent on my face.

  “Big

  talk.”

  As she reached into her pocket, I moved. Poking her torso

  with two fingers, I stepped to the side as she hunched over in

  pain. She pulled a weapon. I grabbed her wrist and squeezed.