Shadow and Bone by Leigh Bardugo (z-lib.org).mobi

hold back during my conversation with the Darkling gave way and streamed
unchecked down my cheeks.
“Stop that,” Ivan whispered furiously. “Someone will see you.”
“I don’t care.”
The Darkling was going to kill Mal anyway. What difference did it make who
saw my misery now? The reality of Mal’s death and the Darkling’s cruelty were
staring me in the face, and I saw the stark and horrible shape of things to come.
Ivan yanked me into my tent and gave me a rough shake. “Do you want to see
the tracker or not? I’m not going to march a weeping girl through camp.”
I pressed my hands against my eyes and stifled my sobs.
“Better,” he said. “Put this on.” He tossed me a long brown cloak. I slipped it
over my kefta, and he yanked the large hood up. “Keep your head down and stay
quiet, or I swear I’ll drag you right back here and you can say your goodbyes on
the Fold. Understand?”
I nodded.
We followed an unlit path that skirted the perimeter of the camp. My guards
kept their distance, walking far ahead and far behind us, and I quickly realised
that Ivan did not want anyone to recognise me or to know that I was visiting the
gaol.
As we walked between the barracks and tents, I could sense a strange tension
crackling through the camp. The soldiers we passed seemed jumpy, and a few
glared at Ivan with blatant hostility. I wondered how the First Army felt about
the Apparat’s sudden rise to power.
The gaol was located on the far side of camp. It was an older building, clearly
from a time predating the barracks that surrounded it. Bored guards flanked the
entrance.
“New prisoner?” one of them asked Ivan.
“A visitor.”
“Since when do you escort visitors to the cells?”
“Since tonight,” Ivan said, a dangerous edge to his voice.
The guards exchanged a nervous glance and stepped aside. “No need to get
antsy, bloodletter.”
Ivan led me down a hallway lined with mostly empty cells. I saw a few ragged
men, a drunk snoring soundly on the floor of his cell. At the end of the hall, Ivan
unlocked a gate, and we descended a set of rickety stairs to a dark, windowless
room lit by a single guttering lamp. In the gloom, I could make out the heavy
iron bars of the room’s only cell and, sitting slumped by its far wall, its only
prisoner.
“Mal?” I whispered.