That first night in the cage is not the loneliest. It's a chill that's slow to build, a dense and laborious accumulation of her resentment and betrayal, and each night she thinks it can not be worse, and then each night it is. It's not just Rhydderch she hates, but herself, her sweet shattered naiviety, the ghost of her that was a fool. But mostly that tom, his mercury grin, his gold voice, his shadow long and grim as he walked away and left her. Arrah knows, as she simmers beneath the surface with all that she feels and all that she cannot control, that she will never let him off the hook. Forgiveness is too good for a thief.