Inside one, the emperor stood, glaring at the platform and the example being made of Ryu. His face was bruised, and he had a busted lip. His royal robes were in tatters around him and there were slashes where it looked like he’d been whipped.
Tyne lay on the floor next to him, his hands clasped behind his head and his eyes closed in sleep.
In the cage next to them, Roslyn glanced in Tate’s direction before quickly looking away. She was seated, the Duke of Spiritly’s head on her lap. Archie hovered in front of them, glaring at the sleepers taunting them from outside. Bruises mottled his jaw and cheek and the way he held his arm told Tate it was probably broken.
Despite that, there was a resilience and stubborn determination in the way he watched his surroundings. As if he was just waiting for his moment to act.
Not bad, Archie,Tate thought silently.After this I may have to start calling you by your full name.
Tala, Gabriella and the Shodun were in the cage next to Archie’s. Blood marked their clothes and bruises dotted their faces and bodies. The Shodun’s once pristine robes were now ripped and disorganized. Tala and Gabriella were in no better state as they watched their surroundings with fierce concentration.
In the very last cage, Ben sat with a figure cradled in his arms and another prone beside him. There was rage on his face as he fixed a gaze on his captors.
If Nathan wasn’t the enemy, Tate might have admired his strategic brilliance. In one fell swoop he’d captured the leaders of almost every major political party in the empire. Their deaths would lead to chaos, making way for Nathan’s rise to power.
Tate pulled back as Rath stirred in her arms, showing alertness for the first time in hours. His head perked up and he yawned before making a silent trilling sound.
He jumped out of Tate’s arms and shook himself all over, his wings rustling as his tail swished side to side in an adorable manner. Finished, he made his way over to Night, scaling the Veles’s haunch to perch on his back.
Guess Rath was going with Night.
Before Tate could signal for them to get started there was a commotion from the exit as several sleepers, led by the man still wearing William’s face, marched inside dragging a struggling Dewdrop.
“We’ve returned with the banshee, my lord,” the Lord Provost lookalike said.
Nathan made a summoning motion. “Bring him here.”
Tate’s hands clenched reflexively in the ruff of Night’s fur to prevent him from racing out of their hiding spot. The sleepers towed Dewdrop up the stairs and in front of Nathan where they forced him to his knees.
Her friend’s face was bruised but that didn’t dim the rebelliousness in his expression as he glared up at the ancient. There was no sign of defeat or hopelessness in his bearing. Only a determination and will to resist.
“The device you wanted wasn’t on his person,” the fake William said.
Nathan’s jaw flexed. “I see you’re as stubborn and willful as Tatum.”
“I’ll take that as a complement.”
“You shouldn’t. Those traits will only lead to pain.” Nathan circled Dewdrop. “I’m only going to ask you this one. Where is the Apportens Mortis?”
Dewdrop spat at Nathan.
The ancient looked at the glob of bodily fluid on his boot and smiled gently. “Very well. You can suffer the same fate as her dragon.” He flicked a finger at the sleepers. “String him up.”
“Peter, you take the sleepers guarding the prisoners.” Tate moved her eyes away from the happenings on the platform. “Night, you’ve got Ryu and Dewdrop.”
Night slunk away, moving from shadow to shadow, not leaving any sign of his presence.
Peter nudged Tate and held out a weapon. One she recognized from her time on Aurelia. Oblong with a short barrel, it would sever limbs and tear apart bodies if the projectile inside hit.
“I thought you could use it,” he said with a shrug. “Dad left me a few things for when I woke.”
For the first time Tate sent him a real smile. “Thanks, but I’ve got my own weapon.”
My turn?Ilith asked with excitement.
Tate’s grin was bloodthirsty. “Your turn.”
Tate embraced the dragon.
