“The keys are over there. On the wall.”
The boy looks over his shoulder at my words. Still just a boy. A frightened youth barely out of childhood, his eyes wide. “But—”
“It’s alright.” I look at Nythen. He snaps his hand closed, extinguishing the shadow.
“You should return to your post,” I say quietly.
I don’t know why they’re here. But I can guess well enough after the events at dinner, and they’re not going to let one lone soldier stop them. It’s written across their faces.
“Wes.” The low hiss comes from down the hall. It seems that his fellow soldier doesn’t have this one’s bravery. Not that I blame him for it. “Come on.”
“Insubordination.” Nythen tilts his head. “How very disappointing. The witch seems to have manipulated you well, boy.”
Wes stiffens. He turns, looking at me once more with indecision.
Go, I tell him silently.
He takes one step. And then another, before Valcor grips his shoulder and physically shoves him away, Weslyn almost losing his footing as his boot slips. “There. Leave us. We have confidential Council business to attend to. You’ll tellnobodyabout this.”
Wes takes one more, reluctant look at me before his head lowers. Valcor begins rifling through the keys before the boy is even out of sight, selecting the large, iron key to my cell and slipping it into the padlock on the door.
They enter slowly. Warily, both watching my movements. Valcor takes up a space in the corner, beside the table. His eyes travel over the washing basin, the rug, the bed, and his lips curl in disgust as he folds his arms. “Comfortable enough lodgings, for a Lightbringer.”
Nythen pays no attention to our surroundings at all. Turning slowly, I keep him in my view as he circles, inspecting me. “You have been very difficult to speak with, witch.”
“I’ll answer any questions you have.” I keep my breathing steady, tone even. “The Council was kind enough to offer me shelter.”
“In exchange for a Binding, of course. I’d have thought you’d be dead by now. But there are ways to avoid the consequences.” His eyes crawl over my riftlines. One finger reaches out and presses against the back of my hand, touching it. I attempt to rip it away with revulsion, an acidic taste at the back of my mouth.
Except… I can’t pull my arm free of his touch.
I can’t move.
Even the frown on my forehead refuses to form. My breathing catches, stuttering. “What is this?”
I can still speak. I can move my eyes, even. But my body is caught, held in some form of stasis that I don’t understand. Nythen says nothing for a long moment. But his nail digs into my hand, twisting it as he inspects my riftlines before he moves on, and I cannot stop him.
His breathing is sour, like the wine from dinner. His nail pushes into my cheek, following the lines down my neck. He stops when he hits the edge of my leathers, and my chest grows tight. “Did nobody tell you what my erevas does?”
“Clearly not.” I attempt to test whatever restriction he holds over me. Try to shift, to move my hips, my foot, even my toes. To pull away from him and his hand touching my skin. “To touch people without their consent?”
He tuts, stepping back and holding up his hand. “My particular affinity comes in useful for interrogation. As it happens, I don’t need to touch you at all.”
He bends down, his hand moving across the stone floor. And the smallest finger on my right hand…snaps.
I suck in a breath, just catching the scream that builds at the back of my mouth. I can’t curl my hand in, can’t pull away. He didn’t touch me, didn’t come close to the finger in question, but Ifeelthe pain all the same.
“Your shadow.” Nythen kneels. My eyes flicker down, seeing the silhouette cast by the lantern behind me. There’s a sick light in his eyes, as if he’s drawing enjoyment from my dawning realization. “While I have control of it, there are many,manythings that I can do, witch. And I have a lot of questions.”
His hand moves. My throat tightens as if someone is pushing against it, choking the air from my lungs. Short, broken noises fall from my mouth as I fight to keep breathing, pulling air through the tight gap before he releases me. “You see? And afterward, there’ll be no lasting effects.”
The smile is slow, and creeping. “Physically, at least.”
“You don’t need to do this.” But he wants to. I can see it in his face. “I would answer your questions anyway.”
“Pain has an interesting way of pulling the truth from people sooner.” Digging into his pocket, he pulls out a small square of dark-colored cloth. “And I have every intention of getting the truth from you, witch. No more half-truths and obfuscation. Our crown prince may be too cowardly to do what needs to be done, but I am not.”
“It takes more bravery to shelter an enemy than to kill one.” My eyes search the corridor beyond the open door to my cell, but empty space is all that greets me. I move on to Valcor. “And you approve of these methods?”
