The guard moved over to the table and turned the bag upside-down. With a dull, wet thud, the weight in the bottom hit the wooden table, and the guard pulled the bag away. A’bbni could not hold back a scream, jerking in his restraints and burying his face in his arm as his legs almost gave out under him. Shi’chen turned his head away, clenching his jaw so hard A’bbni could hear his teeth grind.
En’shea reached out and picked up the severed head of the Regent, arranging it on its bloody stump of a neck to face the twins, adjusting it carefully, as if it were a precious vase of flowers. “We think you do not understand how serious we are,” he said, brushing back a tuft of blood-crusted dark hair from the head’s glazed, wide-open eyes.
A’bbni moaned, his fingers clenched so tight into his palms that he could feel his nails cutting into his skin. His stomach threatened to turn on him, but he forced it back with a thick swallow. He might have hoped earlier that En’shea had been lying about their Father and the Senate being dead, but that hope was gone.
“You monster. I will fucking kill you for this!” Shi’chen snarled.
En’shea laughed, wiggling the tips of the head’s long ears, making the whole thing rock a little on the table, the torchlight glinting off the jeweled earrings and gold hoops that still lined them. “You are hardly in a position to be making threats to us, Cousin.”
“That is not a threat. That is a promise,” Shi’chen growled.
“We shall add that to the list of charges against you,” En’shea said. “Would you like a few minutes to say goodbye to your Father, or are you ready to talk?”
A’bbni felt a shudder wrack his whole body, wishing more than anything he could hold his brother, take time to grieve, to think, but he knew that was only fanciful thinking on his part. “Please,” he said, the word sour on his tongue. “Please do not do this, Sovereignty.”
“We have always wondered if you actually could feel the other’s pain,” En’shea said, glancing between them. “We were never able to figure that out as a child. We suppose we will find out shortly. Unless you want to tell us what you know, Cousin.” He turned to Shi’chen.
“We do not know anything,” Shi’chen protested. The next moment, he doubled over as one of the guards strode over and punched him squarely in the stomach. His legs buckled under him, and the stocks were the only thing that kept him from falling over altogether as he coughed, struggling to draw in a breath. A’bbni gave a sharp jerk that strained all the muscles in his back, but the iron bar held tight.
“Tell us who else was involved in the insurgency.” En’shea might have been inquiring about the weather, leaning back on the edge of the table again.
“I do not know,” Shi’chen growled, trying to regain his footing on the slick stone. The next punch hit his jaw, and A’bbni could hear the snap of his head to the side.
“Tell us.” En’shea’s voice was as cold as ice.
“I don’t know,” Shi’chen said, a trickle of blood coming from where his lip had split, reverting to Hanen-shii, as if En’shea might understand the informal goblin dialect better.
“Stop this, please!” A’bbni protested. “Sovereignty, we do not know anything about what our Father may have done.”
En’shea’s golden eyes turned to him, and despite the fact that he had known En’shea his whole life and was used to the unsettling coldness of his cousin, A’bbni felt his stomach clench as their eyes met and he saw the malice in them. “Dear Cousin, do you have anything you wish to admit to us?”
A’bbni shook his head, trying hard to calm his breathing that was starting to speed up. “No, Sovereignty. We swear to you, if we did, we would tell you.”
En’shea gave him a sticky sweet smile. “You would, Dear Cousin. Because you know if you do not, we will start executing your servants, one by one.”
A’bbni jerked, his fingers clenching again as he realized the potentially dozens of lives that balanced on knowledge he did not have. “Please, Sovereignty, do not hurt anyone else for whatever crimes our Father may have committed.”
En’shea laughed, a harsh sound that reverberated dully off the room’s stone walls. “You will have plenty of time to reconsider, Dear Cousin,” he said. “If you confess, we may be merciful.” Hi’jan, who had been quietly observing this whole time as he stood behind the wooden table, laughed at that.
A’bbni very much doubted there was any truthfulness in that statement. He swallowed hard, his mouth completely dry.
“Do not fucking confess to anything,” Shi’chen said, his voice harsh but obviously not directed at A’bbni. He glowered at En’shea. “You know our Cousin has never told the truth in his life.”
En’shea’s eyes sparked maliciously as he looked back over at Shi’chen, unblinking. “Would you like to hear a truth, Cousin? This is nothing. We could have you tortured for days. We would not ever get tired of hearing your screams.”
“I am not going to beg you for my life,” Shi’chen hissed through gritted teeth, his ears straight back like a snake about to strike.
“We do not expect you to,” En’shea said in his light, dismissive way. “But, you would beg us for his.” He turned his eyes toward A’bbni and motioned to the guards. “Take him down.”
A’bbni felt more than heard everything go strangely silent, as if he had suddenly been dunked under water, shrinking back against the cold stone wall like he could disappear into it.
“No!” Shi’chen protested, and A’bbni was painfully aware how much desperation was suddenly in his twin’s voice. He knew En’shea was aware of it, too. His tolerance for pain, whether someone else’s or his own, had always been low, even when he was a child. Shi’chen knew it, En’shea knew it, and En’shea knew the easiest way to hurt the strong-willed Captain was through the one person he cared about more than himself. The guards moved forward, one pulling a key from his belt to undo the lock that held A’bbni’s hands in place. Shi’chen gave another yank on his bindings. “What are you doing? Sovereignty, please!”
En’shea ignored him as the guards pulled A’bbni away from the wall and over to the shadow-lit table. He tried to struggle and drag his feet, but the guards were impossibly stronger than him. One held his arms behind his back while another picked up a thick strap of leather from the table. A’bbni found the strap suddenly shoved into his mouth, almost choking him. He struggled, trying to throw his head away from it, but the guards held him in place and tied the strap securely behind his head. His teeth sank uncomfortably into the thick leather, the taste and smell of it filling his senses and stopping his breath for a moment as he forced down the panic. He realized somewhere in the back of his mind that he would not be able to answer anything En’shea might ask him with the gag in his mouth. He did not know if that was because En’shea knew he did not know anything about it, or because he knew that Shi’chen was a terrible liar and would be the most likely to say what En’shea wanted to hear; he suspected it was both.
“Let him go,” Shi’chen said, giving yet another yank, but the iron bars were as solid as ever.
En’shea motioned again, and the guards suddenly shoved A’bbni down, bent over the table, hands forcing his head down so his cheek rested mere inches away from their Father’s decapitated head. A’bbni screamed around the gag in his mouth, trying to push back against their hands, but they held him firmly. En’shea reached down and turned the head so the dead eyes and gaping, bloody mouth were facing A’bbni on the table. A’bbni let out a sob, squeezing his eyes closed.
