Crimson Rising by Nick James Page A

and less smiley—hadn’t said a word. Instead, he’d glared at Cassius through thick glasses as he ladled a stew into his lips.
    He looked at the clock on the far wall. It had been over an hour since anyone had visited. The silence was becoming unbearable. His limbs stiffened. They’d started to cramp early in the morning. Now they were nearly numb. Numb would be better.
    He longed to conjure the fire inside of him, to break free of the shackles and shake the stillness of the room. But, true to Madame’s word, his body remained unresponsive.
    He tried not to think about mind control. Harnessing. She’d told him his mind would function fully, but impulses would steer him in directions he didn’t want to go. Madame’s impulses, his body. It was a dangerous combination.
    It couldn’t happen. He wouldn’t let it.
    But Madame knew him too well. Without his power, he was as helpless as any other prisoner. The thick metal bands locked him in place. Strength didn’t matter. All the agility and combat skills in the world were useless to him now. There had to be another way.
    The door cracked open. He balled his fingers into fists, expecting Madame. Instead, a brown haired kid—twelve or thirteen—crept into the room and shut the door carefully behind him. His messy hair stuck in a diagonal across his forehead, framing a youthful, dirt-specked face at odds with his intense, rattled eyes. Cassius had seen this kid before. Only once, but he remembered it clearly.
    Last spring, a day before boarding Skyship Atlas in search of Fisher, Cassius had watched this boy leave Madame’s office. The thought of someone else having a direct line to her had bugged him then. It didn’t matter so much now, but seeing the kid evoked immediate anger. Bad memories.
    As soon as the door was safely secured behind him, the boy’s shoulders relaxed. A ratty undershirt hung over his gaunt body. Cassius caught the glint of metal hanging from the back of his belt.
    The kid took a step forward. A devilish smile spread over his face. “So you’re the legendary Cassius Stevenson? You don’t look like much.”
    Cassius stared, unsure of what to say, or whether to say anything at all. The boy’s immaturity showed in the way he carried himself, bobbing around the room like he had too much energy for his body to contain. He could be a mirage—a vision of his half-conscious mind.
    Cassius closed his eyes. When he opened them the boy was still there. He swallowed, and found his tired voice. “What are you, the court jester?”
    “Nah.” The boy continued to approach. “My name’s Theo. Theo Rayne. I guess we’re kinda brothers, in a way.”
    Cassius grunted. “Great. Another one.”
    Theo’s smile straightened, though the corners of his lips still curled slightly. “She’s always talking about you. I get sick of it sometimes. I mean, look at you, chained to the wall like a human sacrifice. What’s so great about that?”
    Cassius’s eyelids drooped slightly as he fought to stay lucid. “You’re one of Madame’s kids, aren’t you? I saw you coming out of her office last spring.”
    Theo’s shoulder twitched. “My real mom was gunned down before I could speak. So yeah, Madame’s the only mother I got.”
    He sighed. A part of him knew this kid, everything he had thought and felt while growing up in the Lodge— everything Madame had told him, every stupid line she’d used to manipulate his behavior. In a different situation, he might try to convince the boy to leave while he still had a chance, but he wasn’t feeling particularly charitable at the moment. There were more important things on his mind. Chiefly: How can I exploit this kid to my advantage?
    “She’s using you,” Cassius mumbled.
    Theo smiled. “Sure is. Woman’s got a use for everything, doesn’t she? Definitely got a use for you. She’s always got a use for the great Cassius Stevenson.”
    He chuckled. He hadn’t felt so great when Madame had abandoned him in