“Who says she is human?” the man asked, unbothered.
She was. I was certain of it. Human and compelled, like the others.
“What is the holdup?”
My pulse spiked at the proximity of Madden’s baritone voice.
“She’s asking questions,” Cahir muttered once the Order leader stood before us.
“Hm. Perhaps the title she wants already went to her head,” Madden sneered, looking down at me with such contempt I could almost feel it. “Come.”
He strode past us, and I was forced forward.
It would be easy to panic, to try to run, but that would get me nowhere. I had to keep myself alive. There wasn’t time to think about the humans as I was steered behind Madden. Masking my fear, my outrage, I arranged my face in a semblance of calm.
A glimpse through a window revealed a rocky landscape with no other houses or buildings in sight. The mountains were several shades darker than the ones I was used to. I doubted we were in Mountheim, but perhaps still some place north.
Madden entered a room washed in another sterile glare. My heart stuttered as I followed.
Wooden cabinets lined one wall, and a thin gurney occupied the middle of the room. A bald man dressed in a pristine white apron waited inside, his attention fixed on Madden as we entered. Cahir shoved me toward the gurney.
“Angus,” Madden said. “Is everything ready?”
“Sit,” Cahir ordered me.
I had a sinking feeling as I glanced between him and the man in white before perching on the edge of the gurney.
“It’s almost ready,” the bald man said.
“What is this?” I asked Cahir.
He didn’t answer.
“It’s Jane, isn’t it?” Madden’s voice drew my attention back to him.
Cahir had taken a position near the wall to my right. I wondered how much authority he held, or if here, he was nothing more than my handler, assigned to move me where he was told.
“You keep human servants,” I said, the accusation clear in my tone.
The leader of the Order approached me idly, his jet-black vest perfectly pressed, and so were his fine trousers. “You make serious allegations, Jane. Tell me. What do you know about the Order of Scions?”
“What I know is that you treat humans and hybrids as lesser beings,” I said, angling my chin toward the door. “And now I know you like killing and forcing them to work for you.”
His pale brow flicked as he nodded, unbothered by my words. Madden reached into his pocket and lit a cigarette. Tobacco-scented smoke curled in the beam of the spotlights as he exhaled.
“Let me ask you something,” he said mildly. “Why do you carry this?”
I held my breath as he withdrew Joy’s necklace from his pocket, cocking his head.
“It’s a charged amulet,” he went on. “Did Reagan give you this so you could play mageborn?” He inhaled a puff from his cigarette. “Did I guess correctly? Can you even function without it?”
The condescension might have grated if I’d been relaxed enough to feel anything but fear. I didn’t answer.
Madden slipped the necklace back into his pocket. “Right.”
He crossed to the table where Angus seemed to be working on something, then stubbed the cigarette out on a metal tray. “Most of the people here are scions of a noble mageborn line. We are one kin. Others, like you, belong to another kin. What the Order stands for is that we stop pretending there are no differences between us. We value human work and hybrid work where they are best utilised. And a weak half-breed has no place ruling any mage territory in this country. The Order of Scions exists to speak for the mageborn. To ensure our kin progress without thinning the mana in our veins. Today, the labour you saw is hidden because it has to be, but we want a future where everyclass understands their contribution to a prosperous nation. The best way for this country to move forward is for half-breeds like yourself to perform tasks suited to your level of skill. Humans will handle what requires no skill at all. Otherwise, they would all need booster relics, wouldn’t they?”
I shouldn’t try to reason with a sick zealot. Yet my restraint only went so far.
