Eventually Doncia cried out every tear her body could give. Her throat ached, and tasted foul, and her face was sticky and tight from dried tears and mucus. Her thoughts meandered back and forth from feeling betrayed to despairing, midnight blue to black, but every now and then she managed to flash the walls red with anger. At Piri.

Only a little dim daylight tunnelled into her cell through a grate in the ceiling at the back; it was not really enough to see by, just enough to make out the presence of the walls. On the floor was reasonably fresh straw.

She saw a pallet at one side, and found the will to crawl over to it. It was slightly softer than the floor. She closed her eyes to block out the crazy colours her mind projected onto the walls. How could they have colours when it was so dark?

Once she thought she saw something moving in the back corner. She just closed her eyes, and covered them with her hands; whatever it was, if she didn’t believe in it, it would go away.

There was no pocketwatch to hold for comfort.

Where was it now? Had Mellon just thrown it down with the apron? Would he really give it to Countess Sabra? If he did, would she give it back? It was just so unfair. Everything had been going so well.

She wished she’d not followed Piri to Sabra’s room. She wished she’d never come to the castle. She wished Mr Langwish had been all right, and school was still on, and life was back to normal. But on top of all that, the biggest wish of all, the most impossible wish: she wished Piri was still her friend.

Her body somehow found fluid for another flow of tears, strength for more sobbing and shivering, with her throat in raw pain.

🔸⏱️🔸 

She’d been there for ages, or perhaps just hours. She heard the rattle of the key in the lock, and managed to sit up on the pallet.

‘Ten minutes,’ she heard Mellon say outside, then the door squeaked open. ‘Give her this water.’

‘Doncia?’ said her favourite voice in the whole world.

‘Mother!’ She ran into her arms.

With the snap of a toggle a gaslight in the ceiling sputtered into life. The door thundered closed. Poor baby, mother was saying, and she held Doncia for long moments while she cried.

‘Doncia!’ Mother pulled her away. It was still too dark and Doncia’s eyes were too sore. She rubbed them, and Mother helped with a handkerchief. Mother had been crying also.

‘Tell me what happened.’

Doncia did the best she could, between sniffles. A mug of water helped a little.

‘Here’s what we’ll do,’ Mother said. ‘I’ll go and see Ma’am, and together we’ll go talk to the countess. Don’t worry, Countess Sabra will see me. We talked a lot when your father was around.’

Doncia nodded, and sniffled.

‘I don’t understand why Piri would treat you like that. Did you do anything to make her unhappy?’

‘No,’ Doncia said. ‘Everything was great. Everything.’

‘That’s very strange,’ Mother said. ‘All right. You have to stay here, for now; there’s nothing I can do about that; they won’t let me take you.’

Doncia cried again, and buried herself in her mother.

‘Doncia!’ Mother got her attention. ‘Doncia, we don’t have long until the jailer comes back. Listen to me, don’t you worry. I’ll talk to the countess. It will be all right.’

‘My pocketwatch,’ Doncia said. ‘He took it away.’

‘That silly thing.’ Mother had never understood what it meant to her. ‘Who took it?’

‘Mellon. The jailer. He said he was going to ask the countess if it was hers.’

‘All right. I’ll ask him, confirm it is yours, and find out what happened to it. You be brave now, do you hear?’ There was a quiver in her voice.

‘Yes, Mother,’ Doncia said, and held on tightly.

They sat for a while. Doncia’s insides ached; she knew it couldn’t last. Too soon the door squealed open.

‘Long enough,’ Mellon said.

Doncia gripped Mother harder, she wouldn’t let her go. Not ever.

‘Doncia,’ Mother whispered. ‘It will be all right. Don’t make it impossible. I’m going to let go now.’

Mother pulled herself away. Doncia hugged herself.

‘I’ll be back soon; we’ll get you out, don’t worry.’

Doncia nodded. Sniffled.

‘Mother!’ she cried.

Mother was going. Then she was gone, and the door thundered closed.

🔸⏱️🔸 

After a long time Doncia realised she was still kneeling on the floor where Mother had left her. All her thoughts were black, so their colour made little difference to the walls; she was just going over and over the same old miseries. She tried to push them to the back of her mind, so they didn’t eat her away completely, and focussed on the hope that Countess Sabra would listen to Mother, she would be cleared of wrongdoing, and they would let her go.

The gaslight gave a vague clarity to the cell. It was in the centre of the high ceiling, way out of reach, but there was a toggle near the door to turn it on and off, and Doncia memorised where it was so she could find it in the dark. The straw-filled pallet was near the side wall, but not close enough to get damp on the clammy stones. With the light on she could no longer see the dim daylight through the grating. There was not much else. There was the jug of water and the mug, and on the other side of the door a chamber pot.

Previous inhabitants had scratched writing and markings on every reachable stone, and Doncia got a sense that time and grime slowly but continually erased them like a duster on a chalkboard, cleaning the surface for the next scribbles. She had no interest in what anyone had written.

She still wore her grey uniform. It was the winter version with long underclothes, so she was warm enough. She lay and stared at the heavy timber beams of the ceiling, feeling the weight of the castle above.

Eventually Mellon brought an evening meal.

‘How long will I be here?’ she asked. ‘Did my mother talk to the countess? What will happen?’

‘Don’t know. Don’t know. Don’t know,’ he said.

The meal was a salty broth thick with barley. She didn’t feel particularly hungry, but slowly spooned it in and swallowed it down because there was nothing else to do. It filled in some time, and made her sleepy.

She thumbed the toggle and darkness snapped into place. She felt her way to the pallet. When she closed her eyes exhaustion stole her.

She woke. There was a silvery glow in the cell, coming through the grating. It must have been moonlight. It illuminated thick, leathery leaves, checkering them with distorted rectangles. The leaves hung from vines growing from cracks between the floor stones. Was she dreaming?

The big leaves nodded slowly, and Doncia remembered she’d seen them before, the last time the beautiful boy appeared. At first she thought they were moving themselves, but something was crawling between the stems. There were many clawed feet. She looked closer.

A creature thrust itself at her. She cried out, snatched her arm from snapping teeth, and threw herself back. It was a lizard with far too many pairs of short legs. It stopped moving forward and stared up at her with glossy black eyes reflecting amber circles of light. Waves of motion continually passed down its body. It snapped its jaws and Doncia took another step back, but it retreated slowly into the leaves.

Doncia didn’t think she could have scared it. The new amber light came from behind, and she spun around to see what it was.

A pufferfish! It was very close, and she stepped back again.

It had saved her from the lizard thing. She hadn’t wanted to believe in the pufferfish, but they had helped her before. She definitely didn’t want to believe in the lizard thing, but if it was going to bite her, what choice was left?

‘Thank you,’ she said to the pufferfish. It waved its wing-like fins at her, and nodded its round body. Was it the one that helped her last time? It had the same pattern of blotches and discolourations—including a jagged blotch across its left eye that had a dot at the bottom like an exclamation mark. It flew past her toward the vines and leaves, and started to patrol back and forth.

Doncia held her head with both hands and shook it. She covered her eyes with her hands and took them away again. The vines and the fish were still there. She pinched her own arm hard till it really stung, trying to wake up.

She wasn’t asleep. With lizards like that around she didn’t think she could ever sleep again. More vines started to grow up through the floor cracks, some quite close. They waved slowly as they grew, in time like they were dancing, and pairs of leaves sprouted, seeming to inflate and unroll. She reached out and poked one, then held it. Although it was grey in the moonlight it seemed a normal leaf.

She plucked the leaf from the vine, and black sap oozed. It started to shrivel, but then new little tendrils and roots sprouted from it. Doncia dropped it in fright, then watched as the new roots found their own cracks in the floor and a new plant quickly grew.

There were many places for a lizard to hide. The pufferfish was keeping constant vigil, but with all the new vines there was so much cover and motion a lizard could be anywhere.

She had an idea. She retreated toward the doorway, found the toggle, and snapped on the light. It hissed and spat and eventually started.

The vines did not vanish, but looked transparent, as if not absolutely real. The gaslight shone through them. Doncia reached out to touch one, and it did give way when she pushed it, but now it was difficult to grab the leaf, as if it was made of water.

She looked for the pufferfish, but it was gone. She sat down on the pallet and watched the vines became more transparent until she could not see them at all. Even if she could not see them or touch them, they were still there.

She reached for her pocket instinctively. There was no pocket, no pocketwatch, no way to switch off the visions. She held herself and shivered, too scared to switch the light back off.

Without the pocketwatch, she realised, she had the sight. Like Mr Langwish, like her father, she was touched.