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‘Well,’ Areanel sighed. Wiping the spit from her cheek, she feigned hurt. ‘There was no need for that.’ A warm smile—a mocking replica of the one she usually gave her children—stretched across her face. ‘All I need from you is some answers. That is all. You see, if you don’t give me any, I will have to resort to a more boorish tactic, and we both don’t want that, do we? So, this is what is going to happen—’

All she needed was to glean information on the rebels and where they were hiding; hopefully, this male knew more than he let on.

She lowered her head so that she was at his height, and like she was speaking to a child, she said, ‘I am going to ask you simple questions, and you will give me simple answers. In return, I will not allow anyone to harm you. And, when we’re done, you will be free. Okay?’

A broken laugh, like someone grinding shattered glass, escaped the man’s cracked lips. When he had recovered enough to manage a croak, he said, ‘Ya expect me t’ believe I will be let go un’armed if I giv’ ya what ya want?’ Areanel frowned at the thick accent, unable to catch some words.

His upper body shook as he laughed, but that all halted abruptly as he glared at the smug smile Areanel sent his way. ‘I would r’ther die than giv’ the likes of ya’ anythin’, heretic!’ Again, spittle flew from his mouth as he raged. ‘A witch like ya’self, and that one—’ he motioned to Ryyen with a shake of his balding head ‘—deserve what’s comin’ to ya! Ya’re gone burn in the afterlife, and we’re the ones who’re gon’ put ya there. Just like we did with that boy of ya’s!’

Areanel’s mocking smile dropped in an instant.

Did he mean…

As though not believing her own ears, Areanel asked in a quiet whisper, ‘What did you say?’

But he raged on, not catching Areanel’s whispered question. Nor the deathly calm behind it. Pain. Guilt. Grief. It all warred within her mind. However, that avenging beast cracked its eye open and heaved its chest at the mention of her son, and Areanel felt a mother’s wrath slowly rise to the surface.

Over the years, there had been doubt. It had only been a sliver, but it had been there, niggling in the back of her mind like the unwanted worm it was. She had doubted herself for a single, weak moment. Had she really identified the red fabric correctly? What if she’d misjudged them, and the rebels hadn’t been there? Had she chased and killed hundreds of innocents because of a misconception?

But the man had said…

Kicking off the wall, Ryyen finally made a sound. Their hands fisted at their side as they took a single step forward.

The man continued to yell obscenities and curse at them, but Areanel heard none of it. Her hearing was muffled. The only sound was the constant thrum of blood pumping in her ears. Her mind replayed those words repeatedly: Just like we did that boy of yours.

Everything subsided to a dull throb. Areanel had known. No one had ever claimed responsibility, but she knew. Everyone had been so convinced that Resmundur’s death was a terrible accident—but this man had admitted to his murder.

This man had said we—the rebels—were behind it. Never should she have allowed that doubt to sink in.

She had known. She. Knew.

A slim hand landed on her shoulder, and Ryyen’s face was like a blur in the corner of her eye.

‘Rea,’ Ryyen whispered in that unnerving voice of theirs.

Areanel’s head tilted to the side, and with a numb, almost robotic motion, gave Ryyen a single nod. Not a reassurance, but a silent command.

The temperature dropped when Areanel’s gaze turned back to the man lying on the table.

With a squeeze of their hand, Ryyen stepped back, exchanged the smooth blade for a thin serrated one from their belt, and handed it to Areanel by the hilt. The weight and warmth of the weapon felt natural in her palm, unlike the magic-induced drop of temperature around them. Areanel’s emotions were suddenly overtaking her restraint, but she did not care.

‘Many men have underestimated me. They think that because I am a woman and a mother, I should be gentle by nature.’ Areanel leaned further into the man’s space as he squirmed, still bound by the waist down, trying to put some distance between them. Her tone dropped again—like the silence just before a storm. A lethal calm washed over her, and with a voice like the cold, piercing kiss of death, she said, ‘They are often disappointed when they see that I am, in fact, capable of extreme violence. Now, I tried to be cordial with you, but you have refused my civility. So, what happens next is entirely your fault.’

The hate that she sounded just like her father didn’t even register. Wrath and vengeance were like an overriding force manoeuvring her words and actions. Areanel leaned in impossibly further, her lips grazing the shell of the man’s ear, her breath searing. ‘You are going to wish you told Ryyen everything.’

Hours later, Areanel pushed through the wooden door into the small room adjoining the torture chamber. The ragged cloth was coarse along her skin as it drifted along her forearms.

Drying the droplets of water off her arms, Areanel washed away any remnants of the interrogation and the evidence of what she had subjected the prisoner to.

Extracting the information she needed hadn’t taken long.

He broke with ease.

Far too easily! Areanel had wanted to take her sweet time with him. But just as she started, his wails echoed around the room and carried down the hall as he begged for it to be over.

Sobbing and whimpering, his howled anguish was music to Areanel’s ears—even after he confessed his crimes and gave up the location of the chieftain, Areanel had continued her work. It wasn’t enough—he hadn’t suffered enough to tame the vengeful beast he had awoken within her—but prolonging the torture hadn’t sated her wrath.

By the time Areanel was done, the prisoner was nothing but a bloody lump of skin and bone. Yet, her bloodlust still raged.