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“Something is off. You aren’t yourself.” His gaze skitters over my face. “What have they done to you?”
A curse slips through my thoughts. If lies and ambiguity won’t work, half-truths might. “It’s the invocation. I have holes in my memory.”
“What kind of holes?”
“Big ones.”
Voices in the hall grow louder.
He hesitates. “Then you need to find Ianca. She might be able to explain this.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s the one who summoned Aoife for you. But after you get what you need, make sure you kill her—”
“Zander, we need to talk!” Atticus’s deep voice echoes down the corridor.
Tyree’s head snaps in the direction before shifting back to me. I recognize the change in his expression—from caution to complete distrust.
I’ve lost him.
“He’s here, isn’t he? Listening to us. He brought you here.”
The next few seconds happen in a blur.
The space between the bars is just wide enough for Tyree to shoot his forearm through. He seizes the back of my head and yanks me forward. Pain explodes in my nose and left eye as my face crashes into the iron.
“Traitor!” Tyree seethes, spittle spraying against my cheek. But then he releases me with a yelp and stumbles backward. A deceptively small orange flame skips over his pant leg.
Zander is suddenly beside me. “Who helped Romeria poison the king and queen?” he demands, leveling Tyree with a cold, lethal stare.
Tyree smacks his hand against his thigh, trying to extinguish the fire.
“Who was she working with inside these walls?” Zander roars, and the tiny flame multiplies, crawling over Tyree like fast-moving bugs, flaring brighter.
“She never told me!” Tyree’s teeth are gritted as he struggles to hold back the scream, until the flames have converged and engulf the frayed fabric covering his body. Any second now, his restraint will break, and the bloodcurdling shrieks will begin.
I am instantly transported back to a wooded area outside the city years ago, with a pyre and a woman’s relentless screams. “Stop,” I croak, my head swirling. Zander will burn him alive in his cell if this continues.
Zander ignores me. “Lord Muirn?”
“A stooge looking for more power,” Tyree hisses.
“Adley?”
“Would rather die than trust a Ybarisan!”
The smell of blistering skin turns my stomach. It won’t be long before my knees give out and I collapse. I reach for Zander, squeezing his forearm as hard as I can to get his attention. “Please. Stop.” It’s barely a whisper, but between that and my death grip, Zander finally notices me. Something registers in his eyes, and the flames extinguish.
Tyree collapses within his cell.
“Looks like you don’t need Abarrane to do your questioning for you,” Atticus says from behind us, his nose curled with disgust. The warriors let him through, but they trail him.
Zander’s focus is on me, his brow furrowed, and I can’t tell if it’s on account of my mangled face or the terror that consumes me.
“Brother—”
“What are you doing here?” Zander snaps.
