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“Father,” she gasped, sinking to a knee and reverently bowing her head. “I thought you wanted me to finish the job.”
Her father held out his hand, and she carefully placed hers in his. He slapped it away as if she were no more than a fly. She retracted in haste.
“The keys, girl,” he said with lethal calm.
She swallowed and passed him the guard’s keys. “Of course, Father.”
The leader of the Red Masks pressed the key into the hole and turned it. The door creaked open, offering Basem the first taste of freedom. But Isa knew better than to think that her father would offer forgiveness. It had been a test. He had wanted her to get the information he required from Basem. To see how far his treachery went and then come here himself to enact judgment.
“You have disappointed me, Basem,” the Red Mask said, stepping into the cell, carefully avoiding the pool of liquid coming out of Basem’s pant leg.
“I never meant to, Father. I was only doing your work. The work of the Red Masks.”
“False. You were doing your own work. Going against the girl and enacting revolution. I never called for these things. The timing had to be perfect, and you’ve ruined years of work.”
“I’m sorry, Father. I’m so sorry.”
“You were a brute, Basem. Nothing more. I gave you everything, and this is how you repay me.”
“I can do better. I swear I can.”
Her father dismissively waved his hand. All three of them knew that Basem could be no more or less than what he was. He had been a risk from the start, but he had the zeal. He wanted humans’ and half-Faes’ heads on a platter. He wanted to eradicate the diseased breed. But his zeal didn’t equate to intelligence. And he had proven it with his stupidity in the Artisan Village.
“I can give you one more chance, Basem.”
“Yes, thank you, Father. Thank you.”
“You must forget your vengeance for the girl Kerrigan. Can you do that?”
“Yes, of course. I can do that, Father.”
Isa was shocked. She’d never thought her father would offer mercy. Not to someone like Basem when she had never received it herself.
“I just require one other thing.”
“Anything,” Basem gasped.
“A sacrifice,” the Red Mask said.
“Of course. Yes, I offer whatever you require.” Basem was in tears now, wet pouring down his face as he stared at her father with reverence. His last salvation.
The Red Mask scoffed, and then as swift as Isa had ever seen, he sliced open Basem’s throat. Basem gargled on his own blood for a few seconds, gasping for breath, but there was nothing he could do, tied up as he was. There would have been nothing he could do regardless. No mercy. Basem had offered himself up as the sacrifice, and her father had taken it.
He cleaned the knife on Basem’s shirt and then slipped it back into his sleeve. He stepped out of the cell and turned to face her. “Come, daughter. We have much work to do.”
Isa followed in her father’s wake, knowing she had no hope of escape now. Not without the money from Basem. But she had to find a way, or one day, she would be the one with the knife at her throat, and her father never showed mercy.
