†
The Dungeon: Eleven p.m.
D’ata suddenly stopped speaking and peered out of the cell, squinting to see into the darkness.
“What is it?” Ravan asked.
“I don’t know—I thought I just saw someone, out of the corner of my eye. I thought I heard a voice. Someone there, down the hall.”
Ravan’s eyes narrowed as he also looked into the distance, down the black space between the cells. “It was probably just one of the other prisoners, moving in the night.”
D’ata shifted, unsure and uncomfortable, “Hmmm…I could have sworn I saw someone.”
Ravan waved it away. “It’s nothing. You’re just letting the accommodations get to you. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re not exactly entertaining the King's court.”
“Maybe.” D’ata shrugged. Finally satisfied it was nothing, he settled back into the quiet exchange he was having with his brother, and the book of their young lives opened even more.