The interrogation went on for hours with the officer accusing me of crimes I never committed. When I tried explaining myself, he cut me off and I was beginning to think I might have actually done it. “I did not do it,” I relented as furious tears welled in my eyes. Murder? Me? That does not sound right. Yes, there were many I could have done it but not to people I’ve never even met before. “I didn’t do it!” I repeated once more. “Go find the actual criminal and stop accusing me of doing something I never did. Yes, I was drunk! What is wrong with that? Can’t I unwind after a tiring day? Can’t I get some happiness after you all stole it from me?! Do you think I want to be here? I am forced to be here. All of Arth is my prison. And what? I killed people? How can I suddenly decide to kill people when I haven’t killed an animal? If I hear you accuse me one more time, I will give you a reason to regret using your mouth! If I hear you defame Alekos, I will make you feel pain beyond your

I woke up suddenly, every thought in high definition. Though my eyes were open, I can’t think of why; my heart was pounding. It’s as if a hypodermic of adrenaline had been emptied into my carotid. I strained into the utter darkness, breathing rate beginning to steady. The noises outside are of terror and roars unlike how it should be on a night in Arth. A glance at the window showed flames licking up the air as if to catch something else on fire. “Phoebe.”My heart rate spiked again at the whisper. “Who is there?” I whispered back. “It’s me, Uncle Al.” I felt his strong, familiar arms engulf me in a tight hug. “Thank the gods. It worked. You’re awake.” “What is happening?”“There is not much time. Put on this cloak,” he raised a black cloak and pushed them into my hands. “Everything you would ever need are in the inside pockets. Hurry.”I climbed out of bed and slipped it on. Everything that happened in the past week slowly became clear. Grief and guilt became my companions once

I turned around to peek at him from my seat. He needed to fold like an accordion on the airplane seat. Much like his brother, he had grown the type of face that would you stop in your tracks. I guess he must get used to that, the sudden pause in the person’s neutral expression when they looked his way followed by overcompensating with a nonchalant gaze and a weak smile then a blush. I continued to stare longer than I intended. Feeling self conscious that I had joined the group of men and women staring, I turned around and drew my cloak closer. Why was he on the plane to Finland though? Splaying my hand on my chest, I wondered if he could sense my presence. Of course not. How could he? The cloak is protecting me. But the reassuring words could not calm me down. I checked him out one last time and found him staring out the window by his side. I should not worry about it. Once the plane lands, I will dash out of here as soon as possible. I closed my eyes and hoped the flight would o

Morning came with me in the bathroom, washing my face. There was a surprising brightness to my face as I had slept well for the first time in a long while. Using the comb on the bathroom sink, I brushed my hair, taking out the tangles. Once I was done, I sniffed my underarms and winced at the pungent odor. I spotted his deodorant and contemplated using it. Shaking the thought away, I used water to clean myself up. I stepped out of the bathroom, wiping my hands on the cloak and discovered Connor going through my things. “What are you doing?” “How long has this chicken been in your bag?” He asked. “That’s none of your business.” I hurried over and snatched the bag away. “Leave my bag alone.”“The smell is disturbing. Come out for breakfast.”“Aren’t you supposed to be starving your hostage?”“I’m not a witch,” he argued then stepped out. I checked the chicken and took a bite. I spat it into the bin immediately. It had a weird taste and my bag smelled like fried chicken. The smell o

I woke tangled in sheets, spent, pleasured and alone. Running my hands through my hair, I remembered how rough last night went. I was red-bottomed and sore but regretted nothing. It wasn’t everyday I could get what I desired. Even if I end up dying, I was happy I spent a long night in his bed. I giggled when I saw the red rope still on my wrist. Climbing out of bed, I decided to dress up and clean before Connor stepped in. I was picking up my torn dress when he entered with a breakfast tray. A storm of emotion briefly passed behind his impassive face. He gave my body a bold, sweeping gaze that made me shudder. Connor dropped the tray on the stand then swept me into his arms. An hour later, my legs were like jelly. Connor fell back into bed breathing hard, a hand over his eyes. Lying on my side, I curled up and raised my head to look at him. His half-lidded eyes slid closed as he breathed my name. “Hm?”“Have your breakfast. It must be cold by now.”“Thank you.” I sat up and picke