“They’re dancing Wick today,” murmurs Brello over his gruel, as Coin sets his tray on the table.

“Impossible,” Coin says. “Wick’s got secrets, nobody would be stupid enough to turn him–”

“I heard different,” says Labret, leaning over them. “I heard somebody decided to call all those bluffs.” He grins. The iris of his left eye is yellow.

“What?” he asks, as they stare. The Wardens drag Wick, on parade, into the dining hall.

Coin stands and drives his thumb into Labret’s eye. He looks at Wick, and everything’s yellow. He closes his fist. Wick falls, flailing, his throat sealed shut.