Semras bit back her words. They’d only be futile.
“I ask the questions here,” he said flatly. “Now, once again, you cast Bleak magic. On me, on the wolf.”
Barely concealed behind his blank eyes, his scorn burned right through her. These were the eyes of a true inquisitor, filled with authority and self-righteousness and intolerance.
They held none of the softness she had seen within after he protected her from the sword-bearers.
“What spells? Speak.” Kneeling next to her, he grabbed her hair and jerked her head along the blade’s edge—an efficient warning of what awaited the witch if she didn’t talk soon.
A mask of cold command veiled his thoughts from her. There was no room for pity in the harsh planes of his cheeks and in the grim lines of his mouth. She shivered.
He frightened her. Ever since they met, she’d felt distrust for him—and anger, irritation, and even, perhaps, in the darkest recess of her traitorous heart … intrigue.
Now, she only felt horror.
He repeated his question, pulling on the roots of her hair as an incentive. Her heart stung at his cruelty; he had caressed them only a few hours ago.
Weakened by frayed nerves, her willpower wavered. At any other time, she’d have stubbornly kept her silence. But now … now she felt vulnerable.
“Lifeforce transfer, and … and …” Semras wanted to be away, far away and back to her little hut before she met this dreadful man.
Expressionless, the inquisitor stared at her. “I have ways to make your kind speak, Bleakwitch. Terrible ways. Don’t make me use them on you.”
Something wet her cheeks. Was it tears? Or rain? Semras wished it was rain, and that she had shown no sign of weakness before him. She shivered. It was so cold here, pressed against the soil, the skin of her throat numbing from the cold iron’s touch.
A whisper, spoken so low she knew it wasn’t meant for her, drifted into her ear. “Do not make me do this. I beg of you …”
Raindrops started falling; the skies were weeping for her. Somewhere deep in the back of her mind, Semras felt relief.
The Arras had heeded her call, and the blazing inferno around them would die before it could devour the forest whole. It shouldn’t have mattered to her while her own life was at stake, yet it did. Just like his words shouldn’t have affected her. Not after how he threatened her for saving his life.
Yet they did.
The plea in his voice broke her. It was a trick, most certainly a cruel trick, but the painful inflection in his tone felt so real—like he didn’twantto do this.
“… Mind control,” she admitted in a breath.
Inquisitor Velten shoved her face onto the ground. Twisting her hands forcefully behind her back, he knelt between her hips to keep her pinned down.
Panicked, Semras writhed against his grip. He easily overpowered her; lending him her lifeforce had rendered the witch weak and defenceless. The irony wasn’t lost on her.
“All your rights are forfeited as of this moment, Bleakwitch Semras of Yore,” he declared. “You have admitted in front of a sworn member of the Inquisition to the use of Bleak magic.”
No. No. She hadn’t strayed.
Semras whimpered against the ground. Shehadn’t. She had walked the Bleak’s edge, but she hadn’t trod on it.
“You have admitted to using it on said member of the Inquisition,” he continued. “It is within my rightful jurisdiction to prosecute you for these crimes and to execute the sentencing myself.”
Execute. A violent shudder robbed her body of all its remaining warmth.
“Everything you say can and will be used against you.” His voice penetrated her foggy, chilled mind like a blade’s edge searing through her flesh. “What you do not wish to reveal, I have the full authority to extract from you as I see fit. You may be put to the question once, and once only, with no restriction on the duration. Do you understand?”
Inquisitor Velten had delivered his speech in a practiced, monotonous voice, as if it were a mere formality. To her, it sounded like a death sentence.
One of his hands left her wrists, and she took her chance. Gathering all that remained of her strength, Semras threw her entire weight to the side. She had only one opportunity; she couldn’t waste it.
The inquisitor fell off her with a surprised grunt, and she jumped on him, straddling his hips before he could react. Her hands went straight for his throat.
