I step in and lower to one knee so I’m level with the sky-blue eyes of our guest. I couldn’t care less how compromising this position is—I want to level with him when I’m inside his head. His gaze finds the slit of my mask and stays there.
The camp has a particular taste at this hour—cold metal, anxious thoughts, a thread of old smoke that doesn’t blow with the wind, last night’s nerves still crusted on the edges. I can’t decide, but it’s not pleasant.
How do you tell a man you’re about to invade the most private part of him? I try to convey my sincerity through my eyes as I wouldn’t dare utter it out loud; then I reach.
Fear slides through me first—acrid and sour—repressed by sheer will. Beneath it, sadness. Grief so intense I need to swallow a cry of pain. Is he grieving his family? I’ve no doubt they’re wondering where he is by now.
“Your name,” I say, pouring calming thoughts under his skin.
“Rook,” he answers. A lie, I believe; there was a spike of something unrecognizable when he said it. But I keep that to myself.
“We can keep this straightforward, Rook” I tell him. “I just need some information and this is done. You talk, this is easy for everyone. But if you don’t, I really don’t think you’ll like what these men will do to you.”
He huffs, not amused. “You sound like you have no idea what will happen after you leave. Doesn’t matter if I talk or not.”
“You’re right.” His brows raise. “Either way, I will personally ensure the outcome is not painful if you just give us what we need.” I’m not confident in that promise, but it’snot a lie. I will do whatever possible to make sure they give him a quick, clean death.
He draws breath to answer. Arayik steps in and drives a knife into the man’s shoulder, causing him to scream and thrash.
Who knew it was possible to hate one person this much?
I peer up with a glare so severe, heat radiates from my eyes. The meaning is clear: message received.
“Let him speak, Commander,” Elias says, challenging the Anchor. Surprisingly, Arayik eases back half a pace.
The man coughs, and I lift a canteen in offering as more calm emotions leave me, a pressure building deep in my head. “Drink first. Then we talk.”
He eyes the canteen like it could be a trick before drinking anyway. Water coats his chin, washes a thin line through the dirt at his throat. There’s something blue peeking out from behind his ear, bright in the rising sun.
“What do your people call you?” I ask, softer.
“Rook,” he says again. It still tastes wrong, but if he wishes to be called Rook, then who am I to say otherwise as a woman pretending to be her brother?
“How far is your camp?”
“Far enough,” he answers.
It’s at this moment I realize how selfish I am because I hope he refuses to answer my questions. He’s right, Arayik will not allow this man to live after today, but he’ll make it so much worse if he wastes the Commander’s time. And yet, I want him to.
“How many are on watch when you sleep?”
He’s careful. “Enough.”
Kellen steps in a half pace, voice even. “Two? Three?”
The smallest flinch when Kellen says three. He tries to swallow it, not successfully enough to escape my notice.
“Two,” he answers.
“Noted,” Kellen says. His attention ticks to me, and I shift my weight to sit on both knees. He saw it, too.
Arayik crouches and snatches Rook’s left foot like it’s something he does often. The knife tip touches the web of skin between toes, dragging a wince from me. “Give me what I want,” he says. “Cut the shit.”
Rook stares at the blade, then at me. Something old and heavy moves behind those irises. “You know what you call your places?” His voice is rough. “Facilities. We call them white barns.” His eyes slide past us as if there’s one through the trees as he spits his next words. “They took my mother to one when my father died. When I got her back, there was a new number carved into her skin.”
“You see, I covered up the old one. She was finally free of that prison and never wanted to be reminded of her identity in there, so I found a needle and covered the side of her neck where they place the marks. But when I got her back? There was a new fucking number on the other side. She meant nothing but money to them. You soldiers think you’re so high and mighty because you can toss the rest of us around and throw our mothers away when they lose someone they love.” He pauses as the knife presses just enough to make his skin blanch. Arayik doesn’t need to say the threat out loud.
And still, I feel an immense sense of pride at his next words. “So no,Enforcer, I will notcut the shit.You may do what you wish with me, but you will never get anything useful from my mouth.”
