The dimming fire and moonlight streaming through the window competed to illuminate the darkened, quiet room. Something about the familiar embrace of night drove me to my feet. Soundless as a mouse, I fished through the armoire for that specific set of blackened leathers.
My typical long braid down the back didn’t work anymore, so my fingers worked all my hair into two tight braids tucked close to my head down both sides at the back.
Armed with my two trusty daggers, I exited our bedroom not as the queen, but as the woman who sought justice in the night. The guards stilled, watching my exit, but did not stir. My feet carried me with surety down the candle lit hallways of Highcrest, passing guardsmen in their fixed positions.
I wound down the spiral stone staircase to the basement, traveling along the cold, dank hallway that held no warmth, no welcome. Nick told me how he felt like the ghost of humanity tread in this place, and as my boots connected, moving further into the depths of the castle, I brought none with me.
The guards had yet to be dismissed, and I approached half a dozen. Hands shot to swords when I came into view until they recognized my unhidden face.
“Your Majesty,” a couple mumbled their surprised greeting.
I stopped before them. “Full report on the interrogation.” Arms crossed, I stood as a portrait of commanding impatience.A face I was glad to see stepped out from the gathered soldiers and came forward.
“Queen Nora.” Commander Francesca bowed. “The man’s name is Victor Hillendale. He hails from Point Hollow. His family had been displaced from Solei due to Argora Vale’s beasts. His entire family line holds resentment by the sound of it. We know he was in cahoots with the inn clerk, and he mentioned a woman by referring to ‘she’ but we haven’t been able to get a name. We’re suspecting it might be one of the leaders. His family records are being retrieved from the census and we should have a list by morning.”
I was glad to see the new commander being so thorough. “I want to speak with him. Open the gate and let me in.”
She bowed at the waist and led me into the belly of the prison. I turned around to give a clear warning. “No one is to disturb my interview. Understood?” Unbroken eye contact with each guardsman indicated there would be consequences should this order not be followed. More than one noted the weapons strapped to my outfit and obliged with shallow nods.
Francesca retrieved the keys and strode to the cell where a man lay crumpled in the flickering shadows. “Shall I leave you two alone?” she asked, accurately assessing the rage swelling in my gaze.
“No.” Let her stay. Let her see the lengths her queen would go to for her people. For her husband.
She nodded and inserted the jingling keys. A thud resounded off the cold, forgotten walls, the beat strong enough to drown out the rhythm of my heart. Before me, the man lay curled on his side, thick chains connected to his wrist and ankle. Cuts and dried blood decorated the once physically enviable body, his cheek and eye swollen and darkened with blue hues.
Francesca delivered a forced nudge with her foot to the man’s side. “Wake up.”
The man rose to consciousness, body immediately shaking. From fear, or the poor conditions, or pain, I didn’t know. Didn’t quite have it in me to care, to be honest.
“Your leader. What are her plans to hinder Argora Vale’s residents?” I asked, tone unforgiving.
“W-what?” The man staggered to sit upright, still dazed.
Closing the two steps between us, I reared my hand back and smacked him across the face so hard that my hand burned. “WHAT ARE HER PLANS TO HINDER THE ARGORA VALE RESIDENTS?”
My dagger sang, ripped from its sheath so fast that it currently pressed to his throat, my fist locking his shirt in a vise grip to hold him close. If he held fear or hatred in his eyes, I didn’t see. Didn’t want to acknowledge the poor excuse for a man in my hold. I stared at my dagger, tilting my head to admire the view of the silver.
“Life is so fragile. Do you know how long it takes for warm blood to run cool? Give a dead body a couple hours and you’ll notice it’s cold to the touch. But spilled blood—that only takes minutes.” I almost didn’t recognize my own voice, the lilting cadence of someone unbothered when I very much was. I pressed the knife deeper into his skin, angled so it didn’t cut. Not yet.
“Imagine, in a short handful of minutes, the blood of your entire family line starting to cool, erasing from the world as if they never existed. The plus side is, no one will be left to mourn. Is that the fate you want to bring down upon them? Because if I don’t get her fucking name in the nextfiveseconds—” Gone was the complacent disposition, replaced by determined rage.
“Caroline!” Tears dropped from the man’s battered, exhausted eyes.
“Caroline who?”
“Caroline O’gueirre.” He couldn’t betray her name fast enough.
“Shit,” Francesca whispered from over my shoulder. She summoned another guard and passed on the name to be retrieved from record.
“How many does Caroline control? She wielded you like a weapon. How many more are at her disposal?”
“There’s only a dozen of us.” He swallowed, battling the knife that bobbed with his throat, blood pooling in his mouth from my hit.
“Which towns are involved?”
He hesitated, but my knife drew a drop of blood, and he spoke. Truthful confession or not, it was something to go on. Brought to the brink, this man gave all he was going to. Because I would not draw this out for months.
I’d been in this position before. Held a man’s life at my mercy. A man that had endangered innocent people, who had contempt in his heart that’d caused it to rot his humanity. This time, I did not quarrel with matters of conscience.
