THE CELLThe air in the cell smelled like old stone and damp Earth. It was cold—the kind of cold that sinks into your bones and stays there. I sat in the corner, my knees pulled up to my chest, staring at the heavy wooden door. The iron lock looked like a giant eye, mocking me.

"He really thinks I did it," I whispered into the dark. My own voice sounded strange to me. It was shaky and thin. "Demetrius really believes I'm a spy."

I leaned my head back against the wall. Every time I closed my ...