“Really?” I ask. “Even if we get the Chamber every night? There’s still no way the prison will let us out?”
“We won’t get the Chamber every night,” Remy tells me. “It never happens like that. I heard a guard say once that everyone used to have to choose Chamber or pause. But over the centuries, the prison became overcrowded, so now we spin for who gets the Chamber each night. And I don’t know if it’s that or simply the way this fucked-up prison was built—but atonement is a joke. In seventeen years, I’ve never seen anyone rehabilitated by torture.” That’s a chilling thought, and I can tell everyone is letting those words sink in. Calder eventually breaks the silence. “Also, if we did end up getting the Chamber every night… No one can withstand what the Chamber does over and over and over again—especially if it’s that close together.” “So we won’t get it six times,” I say, trying to sound upbeat. “We can do it two or three times, right?” “Once is enough for a lifetime,” Calder tells me, and she already sounds…empty. Like she, too, is in a dark place, and she’s merely trying to figure out how to get through it. “But I thought Remy said you two make this trip once a month?” I ask. “We do,” Remy agrees and winks at Calder. “Of course, Calder is particularly fond of nail polish.” I want to ask if she sniffs it, because who would voluntarily choose torture over no torture? But then my stomach starts to pitch as another reason comes to mind. Is what happens while on “pause” even worse than the Chamber? My anxiety shifts into overdrive. Panic wells up inside me, and I bend over, start to take off my shoes, but then I realize the only thing I have to feel is cool, smooth metal, which will do nothing to calm me down. I can’t pull a breath into my lungs, can’t think. I try to name things in the room to ground myself, but there’s nothing here—and the room itself is built to make me anxious as hell. I grab on to my bedcovers, scrunch them in my hands, and try to concentrate on the feel of the fibers. But they’re thin and again just reinforce where we are. I start to count backward as my heart feels like it’s going to explode, but then Hudson is there. Letting me feel the strength in his hand, feel our fingers brush against each other’s, letting me ground myself…in him. It’s rough going for a couple of minutes, but he seems to know instinctively what to do to make me feel better. He doesn’t crowd me, doesn’t try to talk, doesn’t do anything but be there with me. And eventually, I am able to breathe again. “I’m sorry,” I tell him when I finally feel normal—or as normal as I can feel in this situation. His laugh is dark and painful to listen to. “Don’t apologize to me. Not for this. Not for anything.” He shakes his head, his jaw working. “I can’t believe I did this to you.” “You didn’t do this to me,” I whisper fiercely. “I chose to come. We have a plan—” “You chose to come because the alternative was just as bad. That’s not a choice!” “Don’t do this, Hudson. We’ve been in this together from the beginning—don’t change that now. And don’t take my agency in this away from me. I make decisions for my life, not you. Not anybody else.” At first, he doesn’t answer. But then he grabs me and pulls me to him until our bodies are only inches apart. “I don’t want you to suffer any more because of me,” he whispers. “I can’t—” He breaks off, throat working. “And I don’t want you suffering because of me,” I shoot back. “I don’t want anyone in this room suffering. But we’re in this together, right?” I look around to everyone else, who are all trying studiously not to listen…and failing. “We’re in this together, right?” I repeat. “Whatever happens, we’re going to find the blacksmith and somehow, we’re going to get out of this prison. I swear it.” I turn to Remy. “You see the future, so tell me, what do you see? You use the flower to get out, but what do the rest of us do?” “I don’t know,” he admits. “What do you mean, you don’t know?” Flint demands. His green eyes are swirling eerily, but then he shakes his head and they’re back to normal. “It means, all I know is that I use the flower. So either you give it to me to use, or I kill you and take it, or you find another way out.” “Well, that’s a hell of a lot of ors,” Hudson growls, looking like he once again wants to rip him limb from limb. “I can’t see the future unless it’s decided,” Remy answers. “And right now, what happens to you is entirely up in the air.” 116