‘Thank you, Emelin.’ She almost sang the words, that familiar melodious cadence. ‘I’ll let you know when she tells me anything important.’ ‘Thank you.’ I forced myself to smile. Too late to turn back, now; the best I could do was hope and have faith. ‘Have a good day, then.’ ‘Oh, I’m sure I’ll have a wonderful day,’ she said, laughing again as she skipped towards the door of cell number 104. Gods help me. And gods help Thysandra, most of all.
