I put just enough pressure on the knife at his neck to draw blood.
“You will stop screaming, or I’ll slice your throat and find what I need myself.”
His howl shuts off instantly. I always draw blood early in a job. I hated it at first. Weeks of living with the stench of my own blood haunted me long after I escaped from the dragon Nest. But violence is part of daily life in Vanatia. I was a shit spy before I started using my blades because nobody took me seriously unless I caused them pain. That’s why I’m not too worried about his screams. The tavern’s nearly empty this time of day, but most people will ignore us anyway. It’s never safe to stick your nose into someone else’s business in this gods-forsaken place.
After I reach down for the knife on his leg and toss it aside, I look him over quickly. “Any more blades on you?”
He shakes his head, but I can hear his heart accelerate just a bit as he does. I dig the tip at his throat deeper as Itskat him. “You’ll lose more blood than you can afford if you lie to me,” I snarl. “Where is it?”
His gaze drops, but he stays silent. I bite back the moan as I realize this is going to take longer than I’d like.Gah! I’m tired and I want to go home. And Thor’s probably hungry. Toffer refuses to feed him, stubborn troll that he is.Reaching around Thrym, I run my hands down his back, finding the sheath at his waist.
“Is this the only one?”
This time, Thrym’s responding grunt rings true. I’ll watch him until he’s tied up, but I don’t think he has another weapon.
“I’m going to free your hand, and you’re going to sit in the chair by the fireplace. If you try anything, I’ll take a finger. Or maybe a thumb. Understand?”
His eyes are burning into mine—it’s almost funny how angry he is—but he dips his chin once. Wrenching the knife free, I step back and wave him forward. But he’s not ready to comply yet. He lunges for me, his shoulder aiming for my gut.
Idiot.
Stepping backwards, I bring the knife’s hilt down on the back of his head, dropping him like a sack of coal. As he groans, Itskagain and straddle his back, a blade again at his throat. “That won’t do,” I whisper in his ear as I stretch my other knife forward and remove his right pinkie.
While he’s shrieking, I pull a strip of fabric from my belt and gag him. Can’t let him scream too long. That might draw unwanted attention if someone’s trying to sleep in a nearby room. And I can already tell this guy’s gonna be stubborn. We’ll be here a while if he forces me to rummage through his brain myself.
“You’ll soon learn that I always keep my promises,” I mutter as I bind his wrists. Standing, I yank him to his knees and then his feet. He’s a bit more complacent now, with so much of his blood decorating the floor. They always are after I take the first finger. I don’t untie him when I plant him in the chair, just strapping his arms to the back. The rope might be a little tighter than necessary, but he’s pissed me off.
“I’d hoped to make this easy on you,” I explain as I pull up another chair and drop into it in front of him, “but that’s up to you. You took information from the Kastali.” His eyes widen at that declaration. He probably thinks I work for the Dróttning. That could come in handy so I let him believe whatever he wants. “I’m going to take off the gag and you’ll tell me where it is.”
“Fuck you.”
His first words don’t help his cause, so I stand to saunter behind him. Shoving the gag back into his mouth to stifle his next shriek, I reach for his left hand and pull apart the fingers he’s trying to clench together. He’s fighting me with everything he has, but he won’t win this battle. They never do. When I’ve freed his left pinkie, I place my lips close to his ear andtskat him while I slice it off. Then I head back to my seat and watch him writhe.
“Maybe you don’t realize what’s about to happen.” Squaring my shoulders, I shift into the facade that helped me convince Bevin I’m one of the best spies in the country. Over his shoulder, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror: full lips, dark as the copper decorating the room, set in a thin line; warm, umber skin; bright brown eyes, narrowed for emphasis; high cheekbones and a well-defined jaw, clenched tight. My don’t-fuck-with-me face.
“I’m going to get what I need from you,” I purr. “If you give it to me willingly, I’ll let you live. You’ll have lost a couple of fingers in this reminder about what happens to people who take something that belongs to the Dróttning, but you’ll leave with your life.”
I’ve got his attention now. He’s sputtering, but I’m not yet ready to hear whatever he wants to say.
“If you don’t cooperate, I’ll spend an hour or so trying to convince you. That’ll involve more fingers … and other parts,” I add with a glance down at his paltry penis, “before I give up and take what I need. If you make me do that, I’ll kill you for my trouble.”
I don’t tell him the real reason I’d kill him. Other than the Dróttning herself, only elves like me and a few of the Dróttning’s most trusted soldiers—who she’s somehow managed to imbue with her own powerful magic—can walk through people’s thoughts. It gives me talents most don’t possess. I can find information and convince Bevin’s marks to do things they’d rather not.
But I can’t rely on that skill too much and risk revealing myself. Nobody can know I’m an elf. The Dróttning had every elf in Vanatia imprisoned when she took power centuries ago. Other than dragons, she and her hand-picked clique of soldiers are the only beings in this land allowed to possess and wield magic. The Dróttning controls all of them, dragons and soldiers alike. I’m free only because I grew up in a different world and somehow got sucked into this one. If anyone discovers what I am, I’ll end up in one of the elven prison camps.
Luckily, elves can hide amongst humans. I’m sure others walk this world, but I’ve never gotten close enough to any to gain the trust they’d need to share that secret with me. As long as I maintain control over my body—never let my pointed ears appear—and hide the mind magic all elves possess, only those with their own magic could recognize me. And that’s only if my shields can’t keep them out.
Thrym has no magic. And Bevin wants what he has, so I’m going to get it. One way or another.
“Do we understand each other?” I ask after giving Thrym a moment to consider how the next hour might go.
He nods, his eyes wide and much duller than they were a few minutes ago. Maybe this’ll be easier than I thought.
I point my knife toward his mouth. “You won’t scream again if I take this off, will you?”
He shakes his head, quick, jerky movements.
Releasing his gag, I poise my knife over his groin. A reminder of what’s at stake.
