The kind he’dloveto unravel.
He’d nearly given up, three days into her runic sleep, until one bit of information came from the recruitingnomageofficer.
She was a ward of oneStefon Ervos.
A name that made Kinlear’s blood curdle. A name that had himseethingwith untapped rage...because he knew the bastard.
He was the Ravenminder before her.
The one who’d nearly murdered Six along with the rest of her litter.
Gods, it was cold down here.
Kinlear Laroux paused for breath as he made the harrowing journey down into the darkness beneath the Citadel’s halls. The prison cells stank like sweat and stale piss, and rats scurried beneath his feet, narrowly avoiding a maiming from his cane as he wove his way down to the correct cell.
This was no place for a prince.
But he would have his answers...if only because he longed for them himself.
He wanted to know her. To trust her.
And so far, he was the only one in the Citadel that did, beyond Arawn. But what was he to do? Waltz into his father’s throne room, and say, “I’ve been dreaming of her for years, Father. I’m Veilborne, isn’t that lovely?”
He’d find himself in this very prison, if he ever admitted that.
Kinlear sighed, his breath forming before him in a cloud as he paused before the correct cell and peered inside.
There was a lump of torn blankets on the worn cot. Beneath them, a shell of a man, his red hair shorn, cuts and bruises all over his face, who barely shifted to reveal that he’d heard Kinlear arrive.
“Stefon Ervos,” Kinlear said. “The raphon slayer.”
“Is it time?” Stefon asked, in a voice that was raw from torture, from screams, or perhaps from the illness that was rumored to run through these filthy cells. He’d never survive a day in here, with his condition. “It is time for my death?”
Kinlear shook his head, though he would haverelishedthe man’s life ending. He himself would have loved to swing the blade for what Stefon Ervos had done to the litter of raphon pups. Kinlear’s chance at becoming great, at being remembered for slaying the Acolyte someday...it had nearly ended before it even began. And all because of the bastard behind these very bars.
“No,” Kinlear said, curling his gloved hands around them. “You will not die today.” He leaned closer, despite the reek of piss, and said, “I’m here to inquire about your ward.Ezer.”
The man stiffened.
“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
Kinlear sighed. “I was afraid you’d say that. Which is why...ah, what perfect timing. Our friend has arrived!”
He glanced over his shoulder as Thera, the Ehvermage of his choice, arrived. The Sacred had long brown hair mixed with strands of grey to reveal her strong connection to Dhysis. She had soft green eyes, deep frown lines on her face...and such a talent at torture and darkness, it was a wonder she didn’t defect.
She was useful, during this war, though she was ageing swiftly.
They’d needed Ehvermages quite often lately, when darksouls were captured for information.
Kinlear smiled and turned back to the shell of a man inside the cell. “Now. We can do this the easy way...or themagicway. Tell me what you know about Ezer of Rendegard. Her past, her present. Her lineage. Tell meeverything.”
They learned enough –he was a prince without a crown, standing beside an Ehvermage in the darkness. Thera’s eyes were rolled back into her head as she sent her magic into the prisoner’s mind, digging every part of him up like bones from a shallow grave --before Stefon Ervos finally broke.
And there was nothing more they could uncover.
They left him mumbling phrases that made no sense, sobbing into his tattered blanket as if he’d seen a ghost.
Kinlear’s stomach twisted, as he and the Ehvermage took the spiraling staircase up. Out of the darkness, back into the light.
