Seraphine's POV
I called it morning when the narrow strip of light on the opposite side of the corridor crept further up the wall. I didn't know which day it was. The lamp wasn't lit. Only once did a guard's shadow appear, put the water through the small opening, and then leave. He brought no food.
There were still two fingers of water left in the canteen from yesterday. At first, I thought they were just late. That the healer would come. Or the scarred guard. Or the young one. But the light seeped off the wall. Then another day passed. By the third “morning,” my stomach was no longer growling. I was just an empty, cold pit.
I rationed the water. I drank in sips, holding it under my tongue before swallowing, as if that would make it more. My stomach protested: it got something, but not
