Page 93

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The interrogation room was at the top of the prison—just as the maps had shown it to be—a white box of a room with grooves in the floor for the blood to be washed away. But the stains of the men and women who had come before us were everywhere. A Barren Rider had chained us to the chairs and then left.

The minutes had ticked on as phoenixes screeched in the sky above us.

Aster was slumped in a chair opposite me. He looked a lot worse than he was, but it didn’t stop the ache in my chest at seeing him like that. The impulse to reach out for him and check that it truly was an act was overwhelming.

I swallowed down the lump in my throat and tried to lick my parched lips.

Moments later, Torran strode in with two Barren Riders behind him. I had seen those two men around Craven City—they were the ones who had witches caged in their tower to use as they wished. It was a bad combination.

“We’ll start with the plan you and your cousins have to rule the Earth and Skyworlds,” Torran said, moving to lean against the wall. His posture remained easy, but even as he spoke to me, his gaze narrowed on Aster. Was he concerned or… worried, even? The two might have reconnected over the last three years, but they weren’t close, were they?

My chest contracted, and every part of me stilled—soon the blows would come. They always did this. They built up the tension first so that the fear of pain could be used to their advantage. Aster had a small quirk on his lips. He knew it too.

And so we waited.

I had a lot of useless shit to tell these Riders; I’d keep them all busy while I gave us time to find a way out.

“Plan?” said one of the Riders. He had long, lank brown hair, and was a head shorter than Torran. “How interesting.”

Did Torran know that there was a blood oath between Ember, Thorn, and me? I would never give up their location, but ‘a plan’ was vague and almost impossible to be held by a blood oath, unless we had an oath specifically on every detail of it. And we didn’t, because we’d assumed that if they found us, they would just believe that we were fleeing. Torran was not just a pretty face, but then, neither was I.

“We planned to get out. Planned to leave your crumbling city and…” My voice died as the brown-haired Barren Rider stretched out a finger towards Aster.

No. No. No.

I locked every bone in my body, but still my wrists pulled at their bindings. “I’m telling you…”

A white-hot flame shot out from his fingertip and whipped across Aster’s chest. He sagged under the onslaught, but not a single sound left his lips. The sour stench of burned hair and skin reached me, and I gagged. Bile rose from my stomach, burning my throat. There was a long, deep burn right across the tattoo on his chest. I made myself take in every inch of scorched flesh. He was here because of me. If he had never loved me, he would have been safe. Something wet ran over my cheek, and I closed my eyes so no more tears would escape. I took a shallow breath, trying and failing to stop my heart from breaking.

“The Annatalian leader who was pushed out by the General and went crying to the Ruckus,” brown-haired Rider said. “Who would have thought that a man who worshipped us so beautifully would turn Earthworld-lover? Malar wants everything on the Ruckus… and you’re going to tell us.”

“I normally start with a question that I actually need an answer to.” Torran’s tone was bored, but his shoulders were tight. “Not something that the person would have sworn an oath over.” He pulled off a glove and pointed a finger at me. “Why did you enter the Ruckus? Just for him, or something else?” Black wisps of smoke ran from his finger, over my lap, and once again around my wrists that didn’t need binding.

I turned away from him and his stupid fucking smoke trails. “Aster, are you…?” He was in so much pain I could see it in the shallow breaths and slumped shoulders. His jaw was clamped shut so he wouldn’t cry out.

In a bid for time, I replied, “Aster was held in the mines, and he escaped with the other Celts, and then he took the oath so that he could get a Warhorse. He…” Aster was convulsing now, and I pulled at my bindings. I had to get to him. “Please… please.” I didn’t know what I was pleading for—for him to look at me, for this all to stop, for something to go our way!

More of Torran’s smoke sped out of his finger, and the long, thin trail wrapped around Aster’s neck and pulled his chin up. And then it squeezed. Aster’s eyes bulged, his cheeks reddened, and he gasped for air. He was about to pass out. He was going to stop breathing. What was Torran doing? And then the green glow of his oath peeked out from his glove—his father had given another order.

Every muscle in my body vibrated. If I had fire magic, I would have burned the entire building down for what they had done to him. Instead, I was restrained and just… watching… powerless. My cold, hard nothingness that I had perfected over the years crumbled when it came to Aster.

I opened my mouth to scream at him to stop, to plead, but Aster’s glare made my words die.

“No!” he whispered.

How could I get us to the FootPaths entrances? I’d believed that the two I’d learned about were blocked up, but that had turned out to be wrong. If we had arrived by the one in the basement, then the one up near the perches could be open too.

Torran closed his palm; Aster’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he coughed and wheezed.

“Stop. Gods, stop…” The metal chair groaned. If it hadn’t been bolted to the floor, I would have toppled over.

Please make it stop.

Something wet ran over my fingers, and I twisted to see my wrists. All the fighting had opened my old wounds. Blood dripped onto the floor.

Aster’s chin hit his collarbone; his head lolled at a strange angle, and my blood dripped.