“I’m here to witness,” he says tightly. “Interrogation must always be overseen by a member of the Council.”
“So easy to break a mind,” Nythen murmurs. “Occasionally I do get carried away.”
My ribs constrict as he places the cloth carefully over my shadow. I can almost sense the gauze against my skin, a little like the calantica I used to wear in Solvandyr as a shade against the harsh suns. Some days, when the heat prevented even my instruction from continuing, I would lay back on my cot and blow the material upward, pushing it away from my mouth and letting it float back down.
I somehow doubt that this exercise will be quite as relaxing as those quiet, stolen moments. There were many things that my father ordered done, or did to me himself, all in the name ofpreparingme, but I’m unfamiliar with this one.
Especially when Nythen pulls a waterskin from the depths of his cloak, uncorking it and holding it over the cloth. “Your name.”
“Lyra.” I take a breath.
“Yourfullname.”
“That is my—,” The words choke off as he tips the waterskin. A stream of water trickles over the cloth, soaking into the ground below.
Searing, raw agony erupts in my nose and throat. The sound of my choking fills the room as water cuts off my ability to breathe—
There’s no water. Nothing but air in front of my face, but I feel as though I’m drowning. My muscles twitch, my body remaining unmoving, an unbearable form of torture all on its own.
It’s not real. Not real.
But it feels real enough as I fight for a single breath. My only movement is a tremble that runs through my entire body. If Nythen wasn’t keeping me in place, I’d drop like a stone.
When I stop, I splutter and cough, attempting to clear already empty lungs as he sits back and sighs. “Why did you ask for shelter in Umbraxis, witch?”
The words are raw, halting, trembling. “The lieutenant I answered to was a brute. I was staked to the ground for treason and left to die in the Veilspire for attempting to help a village being ransacked by a Lightbringer unit. When I was brought here, I requested sanctuary.”
“Hmm.” Nythen considers my words. “I think you’re lying.”
Endless, blazing agony, air locked in my throat, unable to get out.
Coughing, attempting to bring up the fire still searing my lungs and throat, I look at Valcor, my heavy breathing the only outward sign that my body is in any discomfort at all. “Is this what you wanted?”
His eyes tighten. But he looks away from the consequences of his inaction, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. Nythen draws my attention back when his fingers move. As I watch, he slips his hand beneath the shadow of my right wrist as though it’s aphysical entity, and twists. “He is loyal to Umbraxis. He knows what needs to be done, even if it seems distasteful.”
I’ve had enough bones broken to know the familiar feeling all too well, sharp agony searing up my arm and throbbing. Hissing through my teeth, I attempt to keep my breathing steady. But he gives me no respite, the waterskin held up once more. “What do you know of the Lightbringer plans to invade Umbraxis? When is it happening, and how will they approach?”
“I don’t know—”
Over, and over, and over again, he keeps pouring. At one point, he stands to refill the skin with water from my basin. Gasping, I lift my eyes. “Would you rather I lied?”
“I’d prefer the truth.” He returns to my side. “And I will get it from you eventually. Your reluctance only proves that you have something to hide, and I’m going to find it.”
Deep in my mind, I’m screaming. Shrieking, and pleading, though nothing leaves my lips. At some point, the questions merge into one, continuous roar in my head. At one point, I think I hear Valcor arguing with Nythen, his voice rising, but I can’t hear over the shrill, incoherent babble in my head.
Kill me.
Questions. Unit numbers, marching formations, luminth, manual weaponry, cavalry numbers. It all blends together. I don’t know what I’m saying anymore.
My other wrist. The fingers on my left hand. My toes, all of them. My right knee.
Please, kill me.
“She doesn’tknow.” Valcor bellows at Nythen when I jerk awake, gasping and blinking tears out of my streaming, blurry eyes. “She would have given more by now, Ren.Enough. She can’t even speak!”
“Don’t youwantto punish her?” Nythen pulls a dagger from his waist and holds it out as I stare at them blearily, fighting tostay conscious. His breathing is almost as unsteady as mine, his own hands shaking. “For what they have done to us, Galus? For what they did to Elerie? For what they will do to Sera, because theywill, Galus. They will not pay on the battlefield. This is your chance.”
Valcor sucks in a breath, flinching at the sound of Sera’s name. “No.”
