An Ancient, Cramped Cell

February 24th, 2016

There is a smell here I can’t identify. I vaguely recall it from the Madison in those dark and plague-ridden days before Zeita turned to dust, moving bedside to bedside searching faces for my father. I cannot fathom, even now, why I thought he might be among the infirm. Perhaps some part of me hoped he would be, that I could be there for him, nurse him back to health, prove at last how highly I regard him, that I am not just the babe that finally killed his Julia.

Sweat. Sweat is part of it. We all huddle so close to stave off the cold we can’t help but share it. I can’t remember people ever having scents that were uniquely theirs, yet here I can tell who is beside me in the dark, identify them clearly as a face in daylight. Albrecht, liquor seeping through his pores, the salt of tears staining his silks. The earth and blood in Almaz’s hair. Perrine, wasted powders and soured perfumes. The newcomers, an ever-increasing number, are frightening for their lack of sensory familiarity.

I can’t remember ever being this cold. Every breath is like something precious seeping out of me; heat I desperately need. Our candles have long burned out. This morning – though “morning” could be a misnomer – they dropped something through the bars that we purport was edible. I couldn’t bring myself to touch it. Not yet. My stature being what it is, I need little to get by. Foul or no, what nutrition we have is better used by the others. Almaz is a Squire. If we stand any chance against being separated, it lies completely with her.

They have burned one Baroness already, and I am hardly what one could call a member of the true nobility. When you kill to make a point – that the nobility are not untouchable – it pays to be mindful of your targets. To that end, I cannot deny my worth. As a pretender I am unlikely to be the cause of any significant uproar, yet by killing me, the point is still driven home. Truly, no one could deny that their audacity has been artfully engineered.

I keep telling Perrine that we will be alright; someone will come for us. They will come. We will be alright. I have said it so many times it has lost all meaning. But they will come; I have no doubt of that. Whether we will still be here when they do is a question I lack the courage to answer.