“Because you asked.” Nothing was that simple.
“Is that why you said you didn’t have a choice when it came to punishing Thornehart? You were ordered to?”
“Yes.”
“Why did they make you like this?” Her heart broke thinking of what he must experience every day. She’d thought all the royals were the same, but she could see her own pain reflecting back from him so clearly. They were both prisoners.
His shoulders dropped and his forehead lightly touched against hers as she took in everything about him. The way his lips turned up slightly, even when he was sad. How his hair hung around his face and shielded them both from the world when he was this close. The way his eyes danced with color and emotions when he looked at her—emotions she couldn’t always place. She placed a hand on his cheek. So warm, and though he was so close, he still felt so far away.
“I wish I knew.” His eyes met hers before they moved to her lips, lingeringthere with a question she wasn’t sure he would ask.
Before Ambrose could respond, they were interrupted by a scream coming straight from the house.
Chapter 23
Ambrose and Akadian rushed towards the direction of the scream, closing the distance between the barn and the farmhouse in just moments.
Marybeth was being dragged from the house by two men cloaked in crimson. She clawed at them but one lifted his hand and vines shot from the ground and wrapped around her hands, binding them together.
The Brotherhood. Ambrose’s rage seared her skin as it mixed with her magick.
Artie was already on the grass being restrained by two disciples who had him wrapped in similar vines that sprouted from the soil and secured him firmly to the ground. As much as he struggled to reach his wife, it was no use as the thorned ropes tightened their grip with each of his movements. The baby had been stolen from Marybeth by another crimson-hooded mage. One final man stood among them, slender as though made of only skin and bone, his pale face stood brighter than the moon in the dark of night, cloaked in long robes the color of the blood he spilled. The same tattooed mage that ordered the execution of the girl in the town.
Raia. Her name was Raia.Ambrose reminded herself. She wouldn’t forget her name.
The tattooed man had his back turned to them as he spoke to Artie. “Give us the Unclassified and we’ll be on our way. We know you’re harboring one, so if you’d just hand her over, everything will be fine and your family can go free.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Artie cried as he stareddesperately at his infant daughter in the arms of a dangerous stranger.
“They were seen speaking to your daughter at the tavern,” the tattooed man sighed, bending at the waist so his face was even with Artie’s. He feigned kindness that unnaturally twisted his face. “This really will be easier if you cooperate.”
“We don’t know what you’re talking about!” Marybeth gasped between sobs as another disciple dragged her two youngest boys from their home. Her charge sliced through the air, but without her hands, her magick was rendered useless. “Please! Let our children go, they’reinnocent.”
At this, the tattooed mage shook his head. “See, now that’s where you’re wrong. We’ve made it a crime to be an Unclassified or to aid one. If you fail to bring her to me, then you’re all criminals and we’ll have to deem what action is necessary. Age simply put, does not matter.”
Artie thrashed against the binds that held him. “I swear we don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The tattooed mage clasped his hands calmly behind his back. “Shame you won’t cooperate. We don’t want to harm you, both of you are such an important part of this community. Without you, we would surely lose mages of admirable strength. It’s a power we would grieve.” He smiled through yellow teeth that pierced the night. “But if it can’t be helped, it can’t be helped. This is your last chance.”
“We don’t have who you’re looking for!” Artie sobbed as his wife was thrown at his side and encased in vines from head to toe.
The tattooed man cocked his head. “Pity.” He raised a pale hand to the sky and as he brought it down. It was as though the very sky dripped its darkness down onto them, shadows wrapping around the young boys as they screamed.
Akadian stepped forward, a charge radiating off of him so strongly it shocked Ambrose’s skin. “What is going on here?”
The mage, who Ambrose could only assume was the deacon, given his tattoos and the lack of them on his disciples, spun around to face them.
He clapped his marked hands together. “Ah! Your Highness, finally. Thank you for bringing the Unclassified to me.” His yellowed grin turnedon Ambrose as he stared at her through eyes as black as his shadows.
Ambrose took a step closer to Akadian, preparing for a fight.
Akadian glared down at the deacon with all the authority of a prince. “What are you doing to these people?”
The deacon glanced at the family who shivered in their restraints. “Of course! Apologies, Your Highness, I can explain.” The deacon spoke with respect but Ambrose had a feeling Akadian wasn’t the one with the authority in this situation. “My sources told me of a woman who entered the town today who has yet to be classified with an Element though she is…” He turned to one of his disciples.
“Twenty-three,” the robed figure told him.
“Twenty-three!” The deacon feigned surprise, sucking on his teeth. “Well, I’m sure you agree, Your Highness, that someone of that age with no classification yet… Well, it’s an abomination to the gods and a mockery of their gifts to us. And here you are with the very individual we’re looking for.”
