Cellar was dark after guards left.

No torch. They took torch because council said prisoners don't get light.

Hazel sat against wall where her mother carved. Straw poking legs. Cold seeping up from stone into bones. Dress still bloody from Alaric's lip.

Next cell, Ella cried. Not pretty crying. Sniffing, hiccuping.

"Shut up," Hazel said quietly. Not mean. Just tired.

Ella sniffed louder. "You, you pulled me. My nose"

"Your nose was already ugly," Hazel said. She didn't even look over.

That shut Ella up for minute.

Hazel's fingers traced mother's carving again. MARA WAS HERE. I DID NOT DO IT.

Under it, recipe carved small. She already knew recipe...