Page 169 of Of Sins and Sacrifice

“They’ll take us to jail,” I reply through gritted teeth. “And when they uncover my true identity, I’ll be in deep trouble.”

“Jail. And where is that?” Mine asks with a sly grin.

“Capital, of course,” I say, rolling my eyes.

He smiles in satisfaction and takes a step forward, willingly offering his hands to the soldiers to be cuffed. Another soldier does the same with me.

“What’s wrong with you?” I ask in disbelief as we’re loaded into a militia vehicle, a large container operated byyovas—magical beings with wings. “How can you smile in this situation when I specifically told you how important it was for us to keep our identities hidden?”

Mine simply shrugs, still wearing a slight smile on his face.

The soldiers get in their capsules and urge theyovasto take flight.

“Think of the bright side. Now we won’t have to walk to the Capital,” he says in a lazy voice as he leans back and makes himself comfortable.

TWENTY-THREE

The air isthick with the stench of sweat, urine, and blood. The smell of mold and mildew permeates the air, making it hard to breathe. The rusty bars of the cell are thick and aligned closely together, letting very little light come inside.

But the ground is the worst. Semi-moist, cold, and uncomfortable.

As soon as we arrived at the jail, we were dumped here quite unceremoniously and told a superintendent would see us at some point.

The jail is littered with small cells on each side of a small hallway. The moans of the other prisoners echo in the air, some filled with pain, some barely audible as they’re close to death.

I’ve heard about these provincial jails. The militia is tough on the s’Aperites who commit crimes, and often, the punishment for a transgression is death. There is little nuance in the Aperite society, both at the top and the bottom. Either you’re guilty or innocent, and if you qualify as the former, you must be punished accordingly.

My fear of being recognized takes a back seat as I now have to think of a way to make it out of this jail alive. Or, rather, toensure that Mine makes it out alive, though I’m still put out with him for what he did.

Mine and I were put in a small cell, and luckily, we’re the only ones inside, though I can vaguely make out the shape of another dying prisoner in the cell across from ours.

We’re sitting on opposite sides of the small, dingy cell, though Mine keeps trying to inch closer to me and I continually shift away. The putrid scent of urine and decomposition hangs heavy in the air, making my stomach churn.

“What’s this atrocious smell?” Mine asks, crinkling his nose in disgust.

I give him a hard stare, incredulous at his complaint.

“You’re complaining about the smell? Now? You did this!” I snap at him.

“I did not expect this to be so…dirty,” he mutters, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

“It’s a jail! What did you expect? Royal treatment?” I roll my eyes at him, unable to hide my annoyance.

“Well…” He smiles sheepishly, his charm momentarily faltering.

“This is ridiculous,” I huff aloud. “I should have left you behind in Anthropa.”

“Now, now, darling Minnie, do not be cross with me.” He drags himself closer to me for what feels like the hundredth time, though this time he doesn’t stop until our bodies are pressed against each other.

I make to move—again. But he’s faster as he grabs me by the shoulder and all but pulls me onto his lap.

“Don’t be mad, pretty please?” he whispers in my ear, his hot breath fanning over my face and sending shivers down my spine.

I let out a shudder, torn between punching him and kissing him.

“I am very mad at you,” I tell him sternly, though with his proximity and seductive words, I have trouble keeping the same cold tone as before.

“I acquired us free transportation. Surely that deserves some credit,” he says, wrapping his strong arms around my waist and pulling me close to him. My initial reaction is to head butt him and distance myself from his touch. But the warmth radiating from his body is surprisingly comforting. I am cold, after all.

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