ALASTAIR WOKE UP IN THE middle of the night to the sound of chains rattling and cell doors unlocking. The whispers around him and the flickering torches set him on edge as gossip slithered through the cells. Apparently, even grown men could spread rumours as well as old ladies when they had nothing better to do. Across from him, his cellmate was wide awake, studying him.

"Is there something you would like to say to me?" he asked, his voice dropping into a rougher tone that he had picked up from being raised in the wilds of Mordania, from being teased for his 'pampered royal' accent. If only those boys had known the truth. "Or do you simply enjoy staring?"

George shrugged, unfazed by Alastair's aggressive words. "I only wonder if you've heard the news about the queen."

Forcing his body to relax as his shoulders stiffened at the thought of Jovana, he studied the ceiling, where condensation coalesced in a leaky pipe before dripping down onto the damp ground in a wet patch of stone that had long been worn out by the droplets. He took a swig of water from the tin cup that had been slid through the slat in the cell. "What news?"

He tried not to run through the possibilities in his mind. Still, his heart did not obey the command. Was she hurt? Had the Lord Regent finally done the unthinkable and carried out his malevolent plans for her? What was happening? 

"Rumour has it, she poisoned the librarian," he responded with a shrug. "That is fairly interesting, considering she was scheduled to be poisoned today."

Alastair spat out his water, leaving the floor even damper. "Were you the one to plan that?"

"You know, for someone who claimed to also hate the monarchy, you seem extremely interested in the queen," George said. He neither denied nor confirmed the question, which immediately put Alastair's hackles up.

"Love and hate are two faces of the same cion," he countered, holding his breath for a response. Water dripped from the ceiling, making a splashing noise as it joined the puddle that swirled slowly into the grate, draining away to the sewers. "Wouldn't you agree?"

"Love of a country can be as strong as hatred for its ruler," George said. Then he fell silent as a guard walked by, peering into every cell. When the man had passed them by with a quick glance, the torchlight flickering in shadow before dimming again as it disappeared into the distance, he spoke once more. "Fortunately for our plans--unfortunately for the queen, I suppose--we've another attempt planned soon. We are not so foolish as to lay all our eggs into one basket."

"No, that would be foolish, indeed." Almost as foolish as admitting one's plans outside to someone whom they thought was a monarchist sympathizer. He pretended to yawn, covering his mouth with a hand. "I did not sleep well last night, I'm afraid. You won't mind, I'm sure, that I shall have to drift into slumber once more."

George made a noise of assent. Feigning sleep, Alastair listened in on his conversation. "On the night of the full moon, half of us shall be distracting the guards with a revolt in the dungeons, while the other half breaks free and storms the castle..."

Catching word of all their plan, Alastair felt the warm glow of torchlight behind his eyelids before he opened his eyes again and saw the guard pass by with a tray of food. He looked the man in the eye: it was the same one whom Jovana had promised she would use as a messenger. He was plain, nondescript, of average height with brown hair and similarly coloured eyes. An excellent spy, to be sure to go unnoticed in any setting. As he balanced the tray on the slat, Alastair made a swipe for his keys.

The man struggled momentarily, his limbs slackening as Alastair wrenched the man toward himself by the belt and hissed in his ear, "An attack on the queen is planned for the next full moon."

"Get off me," the alleged guard shouted under a veil of false fury, shoving Alastair off of him after giving an imperceptible nod. "What are you trying to do, taking my keys? I should have you whipped for that!"

"I told you, I'm innocent! You must let me out of here," he said, suppressing a smile as George's glance darted between the two of them. Clearly assessing, calculating, and strategizing. Well, he wasn't the only one capable of cunning. "Or is your queen just as useless as the rumours say, incapable of telling justice and injustice apart?"

"It would behoove you, sir, not to speak of your ruler in such a manner," the guard snapped back. "Now shut your mouth before I really decide you would look better in the stocks."

Alastair raised his cuffed hands in a feigned gesture of surrender. "Very well. You win this battle."

When the guard had left to deliver his message, George leaned forward, his fetters clanking. "Interesting."

"What?" Alastair leaned back, propping his ankle on his knee as though he were not weighed down by heavy chains. He gestured with a free hand. "Please, do share."

"Well, you see, people, like coins, can often have more than one face." George shrugged. "That is all."

Alastair turned to stare at the wall. "Don't I know it."