The Theft of Sunlight by Intisar Khanani

Author:Intisar Khanani [Khanani, Intisar]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Young Adult
Publisher: HarperTeen
Published: 2021-02-12T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter

29

The cell I am locked in is the sort of thing I only ever expected to meet in tales of pure criminals. Here is the horror of a cold stone room, bars forming a barely visible cage across one wall, the taint of captivity and despair in the air itself. There is no hint of light here.

I huddle in the farthest corner, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the darkness as the sentry departs in company with a second guard who allowed us entry and brought us here, lamp in hand. But the darkness doesn’t ease now, the inky blackness complete. I wedge myself tighter into the corner, as if there were safety in the stone against my back, my legs folding up to press against my chest—and a strange pressure against my stomach.

My knife.

I unfold myself, press my hand against the comforting line of the cloth-wrapped blade. It’s something. And now that I am sitting forward, I notice the faint weight in my pocket: the archer’s journal. The sentry had not bothered to search me, no doubt assuming that I had been searched upon arrival. I wrap my hand around the little book, fiercely grateful he did not find it. Else the Black Scholar would certainly kill me, ransom or not. One doesn’t steal things from a thief lord.

Not that I can do much about that now. I should have left it in my room, but I forgot, and now is not the time to consider confessing and begging forgiveness. I push myself to my feet, put one hand out against the stone, and follow it around to the bars, working mostly by feel to find the lock.

Carefully extracting my knife, I slide it through the keyhole and wiggle it. But no matter how long I work at it, pinching my fingers and jiggling the knife in every angle I can find, the door remains locked. If I get out of this alive, I’m asking Bren to teach me how to pick locks. Just so I know.

I return to my corner, carefully rewrapping the knife and hiding it once more. It’s a strange blade. For all that I’ve handled it enough to have sliced my fingers open repeatedly tonight, it hasn’t cut me once. I know from experimentation that it is more than sharp enough to cut through flesh—chicken and goat, which is not all that different from human. Fae magic, I suppose. Too bad that magic doesn’t extend to unlocking doors.

I pull away a little from the cold stone walls and close my eyes. I can’t sleep, not properly, but the hour is late and I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. I try to clear my mind, let myself drowse, but I jerk upright periodically, fear snapping through me. Each time, there is no one here; if I am to die, it is not quite yet.

Finally, I register the snick of a lock. Irayna shoves the door open at the end of the hall. I jump to my feet, moving forward to squint at her in the sudden light from the doorway.

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