Chapter 42

I frantically shook my head no. Will came forward and held onto his cell bars, looking at me. His blue shirt and jeans were covered in mud, and his hair had pieces of straw stuck in it.

“Why so hesitant?” he asked as he slipped down and sat, staring at me—that is, if he could even see my face through the filth and grime on it.

I took a stick that was lying next to me and traced a few words on the empty cobblestone.

There was only a walkway between Will and me, lit by flame torches every few meters.

“They won’t care. Trust me, little one—you aren’t important,” he said, understanding what I was writing. What if they found out I was gone?

“To be honest, lass, you’re lucky to still be alive. How long now… turning fifty-six years, you said? Do ya really think they even remember?” he asked.