Ruby taps her trunk against the rusty iron bars of her door. “Do you think,” she asks, “that I’ll die in this domain someday, like Aunt Stella?” Once again I consider lying, but when I look at Ruby, the half-formed words die in my throat. “Not if I can help it,” I say instead. I feel something tighten in my chest, something dark and hot. “And it’s not a domain,” I add. I pause, and then I say it. “It’s a cage.”
