The Chronicle of the Worthy Son

Imprisoned

Able had never been unhappy to be left alone before. He could either pace the box he was in or use the cot at his leisure, but it did little to tame the frantic racing of his mind. His thoughts ran the same circles over and over with no new information or suggested patterns to alter their course. He was exhausted.

There were no windows to the outdoors, so his best guess at the time was that it was probably night when the guards didn't bother to refill the lamps when they went out. He was glad for his coat in the dank chill, but it also reminded him of Lark and inspirited his worry. He had allowed himself helpless tears when he had turned up the collar of it against the cold in the dark.

He had counted seven meals served under the door since it had been locked for the last time. Since these were all the same thin gruel and he was not sure if he was being fed twice or three times a day, they didn't much help him keep track of time. He'd tried asking for a book or writing materials at one point, but the gaoler had replied that he'd have to ask permission and never returned. He also tried running some calculations, but the map of the sky on his astrolabe's face only intensified the feeling of confinement, so he kept it in his pocket. Mostly he tried to sleep, and mostly he failed.

"Houser?"

Able had been attempting to doze, so he was not sure if he had dreamed or imagined Day's voice. But when he blinked a couple times and looked to the door, he saw her face through the narrow window.

"Green?" he sat up and rubbed his face. "Did they call you up from Aimsby?"

"Yes," her tone was aloof. "It's a madhouse up here. Over a dozen of ours turned out to be traitors, and they're saying you tried to assassinate the Count."

"Well, that's not what I tried to do," Able sighed, "and I hope they'll give me the chance to prove it."

"But it's still true that you were working with the Shadow," her mouth was a tight line and her eyes were frigid.

"Yes...that part is true."

"You're more than just pulling for him, aren't you? When you told me there was someone else, you meant him, didn't you?"

"What? What makes you think that?" Able frowned and trusted that the rapid uptick in his heart rate was not visible.

"Call it a woman's intuition," she rolled her eyes with contempt.

"There's a better label for that, and it's a 'suspicion.' And you had some sort of evidence before you started harboring it, so let's not be lazy."

The anger fell out of Day as she considered that. Able realized that this is what he found attractive about her, this willingness to step back and think, and felt a pang of guilt as he prepared to discredit any evidence she came up with. Although, if someone had seen that kiss, he was done. But what she finally said was:

"You just jeopardized your career and perhaps your life for this guy."

The truth of it took the strength out of Able. That was precisely what he had done. He sank onto the cot and put his face in his hands.

"...that's a good one," he finally managed.

"Damnit," she groaned. "Here I came ready to rant about how the only men who 'want' me are secretly cocksuckers, but now you look so pathetic that it just seems mean and petty."

"...you still said it."

"Yeah..." she chuckled without humor. "I thought it'd at least feel good to get it off my chest...but no."

"Look, I never lied to you, not that you'll believe it," he rubbed at the fatigue in his eyes." And I've never been any good at helping someone who feels bad about themselves. I suggest you go find someone who bakes cookies for fun."