Lerek looked over at her. She seemed like a stranger to him. Pain stabbed through his chest, as if his heart was shriveling. It was all he could do not to bring his hand up to rub the hurt away.
“Get him out alive. If anything happens to my brother, I’ll kill you.”
Chapter 43
METILAI
Croak leaned his head back, the damp from the stone not even registering.
Closing his eyes, he tried to slow his breathing. They’d returned him to his cell even more broken than when he’d first arrived, but he thought that owed more to the fact they hadn’t sent a physician in this time. He knew his right arm was broken and he was fairly certain his right knee was shattered. So many breaks and sores, he was a giant throbbing heartbeat.
Except for the parts he could no longer feel.
They’d taken Orry shortly after they’d been captured. Croak had cried when he’d found out. He’d been unconscious at the time and when he’d come to, Orry was gone.
Groaning, Croak coughed weakly and shifted to sit up more. He was so tired, he kept slipping from the wall. The last time that happened, he’d smacked his already bruised jaw against the stone floor and lost two teeth.
“Croak.”
Croak blinked. He turned his head as much as he could manage.
Xoran, Captain of the Imperial Guard, stood looking at him. Hands tucked into his sword belt, he sauntered closer to the bars.
“Come to finish me off at last?” Croak joked.
The captain remained silent, his gaze fixed on Croak. Croak stared back, a darkness settling within his chest, and he knew. From the slowly forming smile, Xoran’s mask fell off completely. The dread slowly seeping into his heart squeezed the organ so hard Croak whimpered.
“I knew it,” Croak whispered. A tear fell onto his cheek and he grimaced. Frustrated his body would betray him at the moment he most needed to appear unbothered.
“You know,” the captain said at last, his scarred hands gripping the bars as he looked down at Croak. “I always liked your father. I did not want to kill him, but she said I must. It was the only way to take his place. That is the only thing I regret about all that’s come to pass.”
Croak did not think it was possible for him to feel even more wretched than he did in that moment, but Xoran proved him wrong. He stared in horror at the villainous shit who’d just confessed to his father’s murder.
“You vile, miserable snake,” Croak murmured, his voice cracking. “I knew we shouldn’t have trusted you. I told her you’d show your true colors eventually.”
“If only they’d listened to you,” Xoran said, his voice unnaturally empty.
“Aye,” Croak sighed. He closed his eyes and let the tears fall.
Thanoras House wasthe last place Orry ever thought he’d end up.
Again.
It was a nightmare while he’d been attending as a student, let alone a prisoner.
Sighing, Orry leaned his head back against the stone wall of his meager room. He’d lived in a room exactly like this while attending the cleric’s college five years ago, and it didn’t look like they’d changed anything. The walls still smelled of mildew, the curtains were paper thin and the bed covers had stains of unknown origins.
One day back and already Orry regretted his life choices. He closed his eyes against the sudden sting of tears as he thought on how angry Terena must be with him and Croak for getting into this situation.
So far, High Cleric Christos had not visited, although Orry knew he was here under the cleric’s orders. He’d had no interactions with anyone other than whoever delivered his food and picked up his shit bucket. The door was locked from the outside. As hard as he tried to stay awake to catch whoever entered his room, Orry always jolted awake to find himself alone with a new bucket and a tray of food.
The door opened, jarring Orry out of his miserable thoughts and he quickly jumped to his feet. Heat flashed beneath his skin to stain his face red and he swallowed as High Cleric Christos entered the room.
The man was dressed in his black cleric’s robes with his gold and red braided lanaso, a cord draped over his shoulders to signify his rank. Orry had a plain red one he never wore.
As the man regarded him through narrowed, dark green eyes, his thick brows quivered as if they had a life of their own. He followed the man with his eyes as he took a step around theend of the bed and closer to Orry. It took everything Orry had not to step back or flinch away.
“Do you know,” High Cleric Christos said in his rough voice, his Roison accent thicker than Gabriol’s. “I had no idea who you were until the day of Terena Luca’s execution?”
