The exception ° Six of crows

Chapter ten

Warning! This chapter will contain sexual assault! It will not be rape but forced groping and general perverted behaviour by exploiting someone in a vulnerable position. Do not read if triggered!

In the prison wagon, Kaz woke to a sharp jab against his thigh. He was ice cold and in darkness. There were bodies all around him, pressing against his back, his sides. He was drowning in corpses.

"Kaz." A whisper.

He shuddered.

Another jab to his thigh.

"Kaz." His dove's voice. He managed a deep breath through his nose. He felt her try to grab his hand but she was unable to because of the chains.

"Keep talking," he rasped.

"What?"

"Just keep talking."

"We're passing through the prison gate. We made it past the first two checkpoints. I was worried about you."

That brought him fully to his senses. They'd gone through two checkpoints. That meant they'd been counted. Someone had opened that door – not once but twice – maybe even laid hands on him, and he hadn't woken. He could have been robbed, killed. He'd imagined his death a thousand ways, but never sleeping through it.

He forced himself to breathe deeply, despite the smell of bodies. He'd kept his gloves on, something the guards might have easily taken note of, and a frustrating concession to his weakness, but if he hadn't, he felt fairly sure he'd have gone completely mad.

Behind him, he could hear the other prisoners murmuring to one another in different languages.

Despite the fears the darkness woke in him, he gave thanks for it. He could only hope that the rest of his crew, hooded and burdened by their own anxiety, hadn't noticed anything strange about his behaviour. He'd been sluggish, slow to react when they'd ambushed the wagon, but that was all, and he could make up some excuse to account for it.

He hated that Adelaine had seen him this way, that anyone had, but on the heels of that thought came another: Better it should be her. She had seen him like this a hundred times before, helped him get past the same feeling when it came to her touch, and he knew that she would never speak of it to anyone. She would never use this knowledge against him, never betray him. Though he'd trusted her with his life countless times, it felt much more frightening to trust her with this shame.

He just hated that she saw him this weak, he was supposed to be strong for her, take care of her. But at the same time, he knew what she would say to that: We take care of each other.

The wagon came to a halt. The bolt slid back, and the doors flew open.

He heard Fjerdan being spoken, then scraping noises and a thunk. His collar was unlocked, and he was led from the wagon down some kind of ramp with the other prisoners. He heard what sounded like a gate creaking open, and they were herded forward, shuffling along in their shackles.

He squinted as his hood was suddenly yanked free. They were standing in a large courtyard. The massive gate set into the ringwall was already being lowered closed, and it struck the stones with an ominous series of clanks and groans. When Kaz looked up, he saw guards stationed all along the roof of the courtyard, rifles aimed down at the prisoners. The guards below were moving along the rows of shackled captives, trying to match them to the driver 's paperwork by name or description.

Matthias had described the layout of the Ice Court in detail, but he'd said little about the way it actually looked. Kaz had expected something old and damp – grim grey stone, battle-hard. Instead, he was surrounded by marble so white it almost glowed blue. He felt as if he'd wandered into some dream-like version of the harsh lands they'd travelled in the north. It was impossible to tell what might be glass or ice or stone.