Born of Injustice

Chapter Two

ALINE WAKES UP IN A CELL.

The ground is hard beneath her, and Aline grimaces as a rock scratches her thigh as she attempts to move. Her head pounds like a thousand gongs, and she feels as if she is going to throw up. A pile of the vile substance that sat in the corner only solidified that statement.

She adds to the pile.

Backing away, Aline wipes her mouth on the sleeve of her light jacket before taking it off to drape it over the pile. She figures she won't need it for the guillotine. Aline gets up and saunters over to the back wall, standing on her toes to see out of the window. Through the steel bars, Aline can see the worst part of Friec—the Slums.

Of course that's where they'd take me, Aline thinks bitterly. Men get the luxury of staying under house arrest pending their trial—of course, men also get the luxury of using magic. Through the window, Aline can see the bustling of the Slums—the last customers of the day moving in and out of closing shops, a line of men trying to lure the ever-growing night crowd into their bars.

The line of men disgusts Aline. Pigs, she calls them. Those who manipulate a woman into using her body for money only to stiff her on the profits. Had Aline not have bars confining her, she'd kill every last one of them. They were even in a straight line for her—she'd have all their heads with one swing. Aline wasn't one to get violent, but to her, the barmen aren't even human. To Aline, they're the vile of the world.

As if on cue, a man approaches Aline's cell. From the look of him Aline could already tell that he belonged in the line of other barmen. He wears a simple white dress shirt with a gray vest covering it. His pants match his vest. His hair is slicked back, and thick glasses complete the look.

"You know, sugar," he says, "I can get you the hell out of this pisshole. All you have to do is-"

Aline spits in his face. "Sloiec scum." The guy seems taken aback as he takes a few steps back, his face filled to the brim with confusion. Aline can only assume his reaction is caused because his looks and charm hadn't failed him before. The thought of how many women he'd seduced sickened Aline.

The shock wore off, and with a growl, the man says, "Crazy bitch," before walking up to her cell, slipping his hand through the bars, grabbing a fist full if her auburn hair, and slamming her head into the bars.

Once more, Aline falls unconscious.

Aline wakes up to humming.

After a few seconds, Aline is able to locate where the humming is coming from—the cell next to hers. As Aline gets up, the humming stops. "You've been asleep fir quite some time, dear. I was beginning to think you'd never wake up. Sleeping too long can kill you. I'll have you know my Great Uncle Ferdinand died that way."

Aline jumps at the sudden sound of the woman's voice. Aline peers through the window of the sister cell, but all she can see is tangled white hair—a lot of it.

"How long have I been asleep?" Aline asks tentatively.

The woman, who's hair was still obscuring her face, shrugged. "Maybe five hours. And that's without adding the ten you slept after you first got here."

The figure brushes the tangled and dirt-smothered white hair out of her face. What greets Aline is a wrinkled a pudgy face, alight with a wide grin. "What's your name, dear?"

"Aline."

"Beautiful name you have. I wish we could have met on better terms, Aline. They call me Eithne, so I guess you can too."