The chill air was familiar, the feeling of the cold slab under me carrying ice to my veins. I shivered in the damp, the thin clothing I wore no match for the underground beneath the Seat. It made me think of Syd, the dark and damp little stone room, how she'd ended up here herself after being accused of killing Ahbi. Of course, that was a long time ago and the real murderer, Ameline Benoit, was dead. And yet, I found myself wondering if Syd felt trapped the way I did. If her temper had ruled ...