The night drifted by to the sound of Seteal tossing and turning in her sheets until eventually El-i-miir felt her drift off to sleep. She slid from her blankets and having gone to bed fully dressed, headed for the door. She turned the handle and slid silently out of the room.
The corridor was dark, but for a single lantern beside the ladder. Aside from the steady crashing of waves against the hull, all was still. Sliding her hand along the wall, El-i-miir made her way toward the spiral staircase, heart already pounding.
On reaching Ilgrin’s cell, she didn’t know quite what to do. El-i-miir considered going back to bed for a moment, but instead of doing so she sat cross-legged beside the door. Not a single sound came from within.
‘You came back,’ Ilgrin whispered after a long silence.
‘I did,’ El-i-miir replied, her mouth a handswidth from the door.
‘Is anything the matter?’ the silt enquired. ‘Are you upset?’
‘Of course I’m upset.’
‘Do you have any family?’ Ilgrin asked awkwardly a moment later.
‘Yes.’
‘Well, there’s something to be happy about,’ he whispered encouragingly. ‘Tell me about them.’
‘We’re like most families, I suppose.’ El-i-miir shrugged. ‘I have a mother, a father, and two younger sisters. They live in the Sixth Cleff, where I was raised before Far-a-mael took me away. I’m sorry. I’m probably boring you. What about you?’
A period of silence followed El-i-miir’s question, but in time the silt replied. ‘My family are all dead.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said pityingly.
‘I know,’ Ilgrin whispered, his voice wavering with emotion.
El-i-miir bit her lip and looked away. She couldn’t free him yet. It’d be far too obvious who’d done it and too dangerous in the middle of Cold Wood. But if he asked her, she doubted her resolve not to do so. Her life, in exchange for his. There would be no falling in between. She could unlock the door with one small movement. She could free him. But in doing so, El-i-miir would lose everything: her family, her home, her position as a rei, and even the Frozen Lands themselves. She’d never be able to return and if she did, she’d be condemned to Vish’el’Tei.
El-i-miir placed her hand flat against the cold steel, imagining what it’d be like to touch Ilgrin on the other side. ‘I’ll save you,’ she whispered at last. The silt didn’t reply. ‘I’ve made you this promise and Maker damn me if I don’t fulfil it.’
‘The opportunity may never come,’ Ilgrin murmured solemnly. ‘Far-a-mael watches too closely.’
‘It will,’ El-i-miir insisted. ‘I’ll make sure of it.’
‘Why?’
‘Because . . .’ Because she loved him? ‘Because you’ve done nothing wrong.’
‘Thank you,’ he whispered. It was a simple admission and yet the words sent shivers down El-i-miir’s spine. She’d made a deal with a demon. From that there could be no return.