Warning! This chapter includes references to torture, general Mord'Sith issues...

Good Little Girls

Nila had never been so terrified in her short life. She shivered against the cold stone wall, staring around and wondering how Mistress Cindi could have done this to her.

The Mord'Sith had always been in the background of her life—never as important as her parents and brother, or the few other children in the Palace, but present. Safe. Guardians. Babysitters.

Until now.

For the first time, Nila wondered how Mistress Cindi had felt, knowing Nicholas had killed Mistress Alina.

"You're new," a small girl whispered near her.

Nila squinted into the dark. The girl's hair was a pretty reddish blonde, and her eyes were wide with fear.

"I'm Nila. I don't belong here."

"Ruxsendra," whispered the girl. "Neither do I."

Nila studied Ruxsendra curiously. "Then why are you here?"

"Those women came to Stowcroft and kidnapped me," said Ruxsendra. "I was planting roses—they'll die if no one takes care of them."

The fate of her roses seemed to drive Ruxsendra almost to tears. Sympathetically, Nila reached out and held her hand. "Someone will," she said. Privately, she thought it was a bit ridiculous to worry about plants when you'd been kidnapped, but she supposed she couldn't talk; all she could think of was how wrinkled and dirty her dress must be. It was green, and one of her favorites.

"What's going to happen to me?" Ruxsendra whimpered.

Nila clutched her hand. "I don't know. I don't know what's going to happen to me, either. But at least we're not alone."

Ruxsendra smiled at that.

For a long time, the two little girls sat in silence, holding hands.

Seconds, minutes, hours later—it was impossible to tell in that dark dungeon—Mistress Cindi came. She grabbed Nila roughly by the collar of her gown again, and Nila twisted away, looking for Ruxsendra.

In the light spilling from the hall, Nila saw that Ruxsendra had the most beautiful green eyes she'd ever seen—

Mistress Cindi dragged Nila through dark halls—they didn't meet anyone, but Nila heard screams. She shivered, feeling very alone.

"My father won't let you get away with this!" she threatened. Mistress Cindi hadn't even taken her out of the Palace—as soon as she was missed, Father could have one of his wizards locate her easily enough.

That is—if he missed her.

Mistress Cindi laughed. "When will you learn, princess?" she jeered. "Good little girls don't speak unless they're spoken to."

"I'm not a good little girl," Nila replied, as firmly as she could.

She repeated that in her head while Mistress Cindi hung her from chains over a sunken patch in the floor. Nila's feet wouldn't have reached the floor in any case. Somehow, reminding herself that she was hardly a good little girl gave her courage. "Let me go!" she said, in her best Imperial Princess tone.

Mistress Cindi glared at Nila with such hate in her eyes that the little girl almost shrank away—then her own Rahl-blue eyes narrowed, and she glared back.

Mistress Cindi growled, and dealt Nila a vicious blow across the cheek with her agiel. Nila screamed.

Ruxsendra huddled in the dark. The women in red came and went, sometimes taking some of the girls away (they always struggled).

Ruxsendra had been taken and returned here, too, had felt the touch of their deadly weapons—she cried weakly, sure that she would die. How anyone could survive this was beyond her.

What did they want with her?

She tried to reason past the pain, and worse, the loss when she thought of her parents, her siblings—but there was nothing in her but suffering.

The only thing that gave Ruxsendra courage to face another dawn (though there were no windows; she had no idea what time of day it was) was Nila.

The other girl was even more bruised and bleeding than Ruxsendra, but her courage never wavered.

When the rats came at night (they could tell it was night because there were fewer screams), Ruxsendra shivered and stared, wide-eyed and terrified.

The rat was going to get her, she knew it! It would poison her (Mama had always said rats were unclean) and she would die that much faster, trapped here, lost—the scary women in red wouldn't care, they would leave her bones in a corner, like the ones chained to the wall in their cell—

"Ah!" Ruxsendra gasped—but quietly; she didn't want to wake the scary women in red, that would be even worse—as a rat nibbled at her bare toes.

Nila was awake at once. "What is it?" she whispered.

Ruxsendra pointed wordlessly.

Nila saw the rat, and her eyes narrowed.

"We're going to die!" Ruxsendra gasped.

"Killed by a rat?" Nila said. "I don't think so." And she fished through the straw and lifted an ornate, heeled, jeweled shoe from the floor.

Ruxsendra's eyes widened. Even covered in mud, the shoe was a marvel, probably worth more than anything she'd ever before seen in her life. And now it was all dirty, scuffed and ruined—just like them.

Eyes brimming with tears, Ruxsendra almost didn't see what Nila did next. Taking a firm hold on the toe part of the shoe, Nila raised it over her head and brought the sharp heel down directly on the head of the rat.

Ruxsendra shrieked in shock, fear, and pity for the poor creature, as blood spurted from the mortal wound—

Nila shoved the corpse of the rat into the corner with the bloody shoe, and surveyed it calmly. Her nose wrinkled in disgust. "I'm never going to be able to wear heels again," she said, and that was the end of that—Nila treated all the rats with the same cool brutality.

Ruxsendra was awed. There was no one in the world stronger or braver or prettier (those eyes…) or—better—than Nila. It was simple fact.