EMBER’S POV

I go through The Sovereign like something’s chasing me, and maybe something is.

The holding level is cold and totally untouched by the chaos upstairs. I stop just outside the cell.

Marjorie is facing the back wall, her body sagging against the stone. She turns at the sound of my footsteps. Her bloodshot eyes meet mine. They go wide for a single second, and then they sharpen with unbridled resentment.

She looks weathered and miserable, her skin covered in grime. She is nothing like the woman who welcomed me on my first day.

My chest twists, but I force the sympathy down. Nothing is certain right now, and...