“Because that’s important to know!” Tyche shouted, shaking his outstretched hands in the air above him.
“There was this one coffee shop in Brightspire?—”
“Gods, don’t,” Tyche moaned.
Yesuntei giggled again and continued. “I’m not sure of the name. It might have been The Bean.”
“More like The Burned Bean,” Tyche muttered.
Shawn chastised him. “Shh! Don’t interrupt her story.”
Tyche rolled his eyes.Herstory was abouthim, but he kept his mouth shut. The stupid tale was a good distraction from the monotony of the day.
“Anyway, apparently Ty stopped in for a cup of coffee and lost his temper because they had cooked their coffee beans for too long.”
“No! Theyburnedtheir beans. Burned them!” Tyche popped up from where he was lying and scooted to sit on the edge of his bed, his legs dangling off the edge. His body was practically vibrating with the memory. It didn’t matter that this all happened many years ago. “And these weren’t just any beans. They wereBesan beans. They can be grown only in the far eastern part of Ilon, in the mountainous region near the Ordas and New Rosanthe border. Each harvest is incredibly small, and each damn bean is precious. And these thoughtless bastards wereburning them.”
By the time he finished his rant, both Yesuntei and Shawn were laughing so hard that Tyche could imagine tears streaming down their red faces. He didn’t care. He knew he was right. Besan beans were the best and should be treasured. They produced the richest, darkest coffee imaginable. People who burned them needed to be shot.
“So…so…” Yesuntei gasped for air, fighting to continue their story. “So, as he was storming out of the shop, Ty cursed them, saying they should burn to pay for their crimes. And that very night, the shop went up in flames.”
“Ty!”
Tyche flopped onto his bed again, wincing at the hardness under his spine. “I didn’t set the place on fire,” he replied to Shawn’s gasp in a monotone voice. “It’s no less than they deserved, but I didn’t do it. Just fate or something. Anyway, The Bean is gone. I think it’s a yarn shop or a pottery store now.”
At least, he didn’t think he’d had anything to do with the fire. He didn’t feel an ounce of guilt about it.
The last of Shawn’s and Yesuntei’s laughter sharply cut off under the sound of pounding footsteps growing louder as multiple people approached their cellblock. Every muscle in Tyche’s body tensed, and his breath froze in his lungs. Who were they coming for? It had been a few days since Yesuntei had been delivered to her cell. Before that, Shawn had been the last one to be harassed. Technically, Tyche should have been next in the rotation. He didn’t want to go. Didn’t want to endure another torturous session of being beaten and asked meaningless questions.
Yet, they had to take him. Or Shawn. He was strong and could withstand another round. They couldn’t take Yesuntei. Not yet. She was still healing from her initial encounter with them. He needed more time to figure out how to convince Shawn to make a move now, or at the very least, figure out how to strengthen Yesuntei so she didn’t crack.
No, they were coming for him. That was it.
Tyche rolled onto his side and dug out a bit of stuffing for his ears in the event Scarella was back with her terrifying voice machine to scramble his brains. He’d gotten one ear taken care of when the main door to the cellblock slammed open. Tychelurched upright, turning his body to shield his right side from their view as he plugged up his ear. Fear made his hands cold and his fingers uncoordinated. He didn’t want to go. Was so tired of being taken for them to experiment with different forms of torture. So far, they had done nothing he couldn’t heal from, but he was expecting them to upgrade any day now with cutting off fingers or ripping out eyeballs. He didn’t want to be here when they started down that dark path.
He got the stuffing adjusted as they reached the door of his cell, but they kept going. Relief turned his knees to water, but he’d sucked in a breath as he saw the three armed men in heavy protective gear stop at Yesuntei’s cell.
No!
Tyche jumped to his feet only to have his knees buckle and drop him to the floor. Fingers scraped on the rough floor as he clawed and scrambled to his feet again. His heart surged into his throat, blocking the first shout. Teitei’s first cry of fear ripped through him, shredding a heart he had been sure was made of stone at this point in his long life. He stumbled and grabbed the cold bars with both hands.
“Hey! Hey! Wait! Leave her alone!” Tyche shouted, but the armed men ignored him. He pulled out the stuffing in his ears so there was nothing blocking his hearing in case Teitei whispered something to him.
“Ty?” Shawn called out. He got it. Tyche had never shouted at those fucks. Not once had he said a word as Shawn was taken for questioning. Hadn’t spoken while they’d killed the other prisoner before their eyes. But things were different in a hundred ways with Yesuntei.
For now, he could only block out Shawn and focus on Teitei. Sounds of a struggle came from the cell across the narrow corridor from his own, but Yesuntei was a small, slender womanup against three hulking brutes with batons. She didn’t stand a chance. At least not if she wanted to keep her secret.
“Hey! Leave her alone! Take-t—” Tyche’s voice cut out, and he swallowed hard. It took a second try to force the words past the knot of fear constricting his throat. “Take me! Come on! I’ll go with you! No fighting. I’ll go.” No matter how brave he tried to be, he couldn’t stop his voice from wavering and cracking.
But even volunteering to be tortured by these fucks didn’t get their attention. Within a matter of minutes, Yesuntei was bound and dragged out of the cellblock.
“It’ll be okay, Teitei!” Tyche switched tactics. If they wouldn’t take him, he had to at least prepare Yesuntei. Maybe she could hold it together and get through this. Maybe he was underestimating her strength. She could do this. “Remember everything I told you. It’ll be okay. You can handle this. I swear.”
The woman’s head popped up as they pulled her past Tyche’s cell, and their eyes locked. The panic in her stark, wide-eyed gaze was a palpable thing, like a hand wrapping around Tyche’s throat and squeezing until he couldn’t draw in a single breath. Icy cold swept along his arms, sharp as knives. She was already cracking. He could feel it stirring in the air, an ill wind spinning and twirling in dark eddies.
As the door banged shut, cutting him off from Yesuntei, Tyche raced to his bunk and dug out the fortune sticks he’d carved from chicken bones. His fingers trembled as he gathered them together and raced to the wall. He kneeled at the corner of the cell that put him as close to Yesuntei’s cell as possible.
“Ty? What’s going on?” Shawn’s voice had hardened to steel.
