The first drops hit the window like tiny warning bells. Then more came, a heavy rain that turned the world outside into a blurry, gray mess. A cold fear, colder than the glass under my fingers, ran down my back.

Rain.

The word repeated in my mind like a bad omen. Most poisons get worse in the cold. In the wet. Dominic's face, twisted in pain and anger in the dungeon, flashed in my mind. He's hurting right now. He's cold. He's suffering. I pressed my forehead against the cool glass, trying ...