I click my tongue. Shadow obeys the order, flying off my shoulder to perch on a stone jutting from the wall. My eagle stares at the prisoner with disgust, his eyes rubies of hatred.
The swaying man trembles, his gaze flicking wildly from my familiar back to me.
“Please, Your Majesty. King Andreas. I don’t know why I’m here.” Tears stream down his face, mingling with blood and snot.
Gods-damned weakling.
I circle him, a predator watching its prey. “You don’t?”
“No, my king.”
I tilt my head. “What’s your name?”
“Samuel,” the prisoner replies shakily. “Samuel LeClair. I swear, Your Majesty, I’m a good citizen. I pay my taxes, and I’ve never once complained about anything. This is all a big misunderstanding.”
“Is it?” I halt in front of Samuel and lift a brow. “Well, we can’t have that.”
“You mean it, sire? You’ll help me?” The eager, hopeful look in his eyes is fucking pathetic.
“I’ll find out why you’re here.”
Samuel exhales, a broken, pitiful sound that has my blood boiling. “Thank you, King Andreas. Thank you so much. You are so kind...”
The chains rattle as I approach, hands engulfed in crimson flames.
“Wait, wait, wait,” he screams. “Please, no.”
He keeps blathering. Pleading, as if I care what he says.
I step closer, looming over him. “I’d tell you this wouldn’t hurt, but then I’d be lying.”
I reach for the prisoner, digging my nails into his face. He screams, and the scent of burning hair and flesh mingles with the acrid stench of piss.
Disgust swirls in my gut. All these unmarked people are the same—weak and useless. They arenothingcompared to me.
Samuel wails, frail and thready.
“Hold still,” I tut. “This will only take a moment.”
The prisoner is unmarked and has no trace of magic within him, so he has no mental barriers. Nothing to stop me from using my favorite method of interrogation for those who are born without magic, the easiest way for me to learn all his secrets.
I unleash my power, crimson spearing from my fingers into Samuel’s mind. A scream rips from the center of his being, and his eyes bulge as he claws at the chains.
I pay him no heed as I delve into his mind, desperately seeking the memories I need. I look beyond the way he wept and begged while he was transported here, sift past the soldiers dragging him from his place of business, until I find what I’m looking for.
A hooded couple, entering a dark establishment. The shorter of the two keeps their head down, but there is no mistaking the other.
I growl, my fingertips damp as I press them further into the prisoner’s mind. Fury pulses through me at the familiar sight of blue-black hair and green eyes.
Gods-damned bastard. I should’ve killed him the moment that whore dropped him at the foot of my throne.
I dig through Samuel’s memory with increased vigor. The innkeeper won’t survive much longer, and I need to get all the information I can from him. I pluck at his memories, picking them apart and inspecting every second of my son’s stay at Samuel’s inn.
The Given was there with Gabriel. There are glimpses of her in Samuel’s memory, moments where they spoke.
The Blessed bitch who stole my magic.
I dig and dig until Samuel’s screaming stops, his struggles cease, and his mind turns black. Only then do I withdraw my hands, stepping back.
