She remained silent and, with no patience to spare, I grabbed a fistful of her hair and lifted her to face me. I pulled my dagger from my sword belt and pressed it to her throat, but still, she gave me no sign that she cared.
“You will tell me how to wake her or you will die,” I hissed.
Only then did her face begin to change. It began as a small tilt in her lips and spread into a humorless smile.
“What comical threats,” she whispered. “I thought you’d be more frightening than this, hunter. But you are a boy standing in the way of a god’s desires.”
Every muscle in me fought to hold me back. My fingers tightened around the hilt of my dagger until my knuckles were white. My body shook, aching to cut Lyla’s throat open and bleed her dry.
But I couldn’t.
She still had answers and my gut said we could dig them out of her if we tried hard enough.
Nothing was unbreakable.
I shifted my blade, pressing it into the flesh of her chest, and dragged it slowly across her skin. It was a deep cut. Experimental. Dark red blood wept from the wound, soaking into the neckline of her shift, but she didn’t make a sound and when I looked at her, her smile had not wavered.
“Captain,” a voice said.
It was far too gentle a voice to be of use to me in that moment, so I ignored it.
I pulled Lyla toward me again, my blade under her chin.
“I will skin you alive, piece by piece, until you tell me what I need to know.”
The smallest giggle came up from her throat as if she was trying to suppress it.
“Captain,” the same voice said. “She does not fear pain.”
I glanced up to find Aeris staring at her, eyes rounded with shock.
“Whatdoesshe fear?” I growled.
Aeris looked at me, stunned by my tone enough for Nazario to step forward as if to warn me. I sucked in a sharp breath, waiting, only for her to shrug, disturbed by her own inability to give me an answer.
Beside me, Cathal shrunk down into a crouch, his hunting knife hanging loosely in one hand as he sighed.
“What scares a monster?” he asked.
Lyla’s malicious smile sagged, and her brows knitted with what I could only assume as worry as she said, “Please don’t hurt me,” in a voice not her own.
Hearing my Dahlia’s voice coming out of the mouth of such a vile creature twisted my insides into knots. I drew back with disgust, watching the black of her eyes shrink away into an identical storm gray to Dahlia’s. At a glance, it could be her. They looked so similar. Lyla was thinner, her angles harsher, but they were sisters, as much as it tore me up to admit how obvious it was.
“I love you, Vidar,” she said. “Save me. Save—”
I slammed my hand against her throat, cutting off her words with a violent squeeze. No matter how well she mimicked Dahlia’s voice, there was nothing she could do to cover up how ugly she sounded doing it.
“I didn’t think that word could sound so empty until now,” I said through my teeth. “I suppose it takes something as dull and meaningless as you to do something I thought impossible. You sound nothing like her.”
“Oh,” she pouted. “Is it because I said it at all? I understand she hasn’t. Such a simple thing to say. ‘I love you.’ Yet, my sister cannot say it. We’reallempty, you see? All born with the ability to love only one. Our father. Your sweet Dahlia is learning that as we speak. I—”
She gritted her teeth as if she’d just been stung by a bee, thrashing against my grip and turning to look at Cathal. He raised up a hand, holding something between his fingers. His other hand still held his knife, its sharpened edge now stained red.
“Huh,” he said, turning what looked like Lyla’s pinky finger one way and then the other. “She wouldn’t be that hard to kill. If it comes to it, I mean. Just needs a sharp knife, but all things can die.”
Lyla snarled, spitting in Cathal’s face. When she lunged, I jerked her back, gripping the front of her delicate shift to tug her toward me.
“Piece by piece,” I said. “Until you tell me what I want to know. And it doesn’t sound like your beloved father is going to come to your rescue.”
