She wanted to ask him if she should do it, try summoning the flames everyone feared so much, or if she should pretend all of this was one huge misunderstanding, but he didn’t give away a hint of what he wanted her to do—and when it came down to it, did it matter?
No one would help her out of this, and without control over her powers, she wouldn’t be able to burn her path out of there. Not that anything much could burn here, anyway. The entire academy was made of rock, and the tables and chairs wouldn’t be enough to melt through stone that had survived over a thousand years.
“Show us your flames, Vednis, or we’ll have no incentive to hold back when the time for interrogation comes.” The man’s voice sent a shudder of ice down Lory’s back, but she’d sworn to herself she wouldn’t let anyone see she was afraid ever again after her mother had died and she’d taken on responsibility for her brother. Today wouldn’t be different.
“Who are you, and what makes you so vested in whether I summon my magic?”
She could have sworn little daggers flew from the man’s eyes right at her, but he gave a smooth smile that reminded Lory a lot of the nobles frequenting Lu’Shen’s brothel and folded his hands in front of him, on the table. “Espetto Lenya, Master of Whispers at Ashthorn Ward, and King Ulder’s personal advisor.”
Of course, he was. How could she not have figured outthat this was the third Master in the Triad? Khayrivven had mentioned that’s who she’d stand trial before.
“Master of Whispers.” Lory mused, putting on her worst fake smile. “I’d say,pleasure to meet you,but my hands are in chains, and my head won’t be attached to my neck much longer once you see for yourself what sort of ungodly power I wield.”
From the corner of her eye, she noticed Khayrivven’s posture tense.
No regrets,he’d said. She wouldn’t allow herself to develop any more regrets, like letting the people who believed she shouldn’t be allowed to live because of the sort of magic she hadn’t even chosen.
Lenya’s smile grew wider, his eyebrows rising an inch as he studied her like she was a novel and interesting sort of creature.
“So, you’d like to play games, Vednis? We’re prepared.” He waved toward the two men who’d helped walk her into the mess hall and who were now standing by the side door where Khayrivven usually brought in ashlings meant to die. “Bring him in.”
The door opened like on a phantom wind, and in walked Frost, his hands bound just like hers and his nose bleeding between a swollen eye and a split lip.
“What did they do to you?” Lory was on her feet, her chains forgotten, and almost speared herself on Ycken’s sword as she took a step in the direction of the door.
“Not so fast, Vednis. Bellmont is here to help.”
She didn’t believe a word the general purred, and when Nefetari Brunn snapped her fingers and a wall of solid airencased her, she no longer wondered why the woman had been made Master of Veils. Fuck, that wall was harder than the rock the pyramid was made of.
“Bellmont has spent the past two days with the Master of Whispers, Elory,” Brunn said in a tone too soothing to put her at ease. Aiden had injuries all over his face and bare forearms, little cuts, none of them fresh, that spoke of hours of torture, she noticed when the guards led him to sit at the table next to hers. His head was bowed, and his shoulders slumped, but when he glanced up at her, his eyes sparkled glacial blue, defiance frozen in two orbs that told her he was ready to take whatever the Master of Whispers threw his way next.
“Perhaps you’ll be willing to cooperate if we peel off the ice wielder’s fingernails,” Lenya purred. “We’ve noticed the two of you have grown quite attached.”
Why was Lory still surprised they were paying such close attention to who got along with whom? The bonds forged in this place were the ones that would survive a lifetime and the ones people would endure torture for. The fact that Aiden had already done the latter showed how empty his life must have been after his sister’s death until he’d come to Ashthorn.
“What do you want me to do?” She’d been prepared to suffer, had been convinced there was no one worth torturing for information. Now she realized information wasn’t the only thing they could use to get her friends out of there. Compliance was just as important.
“Set the meat on fire. Restrict the flames to the bowl.” Khayrivven’s voice was the one she was craving to hear mostin this moment, yet, when he spoke this demand, all she could think of was that he was her only regret—even if he didn’t deserve a second thought after what he’d done.
“Just a few flames.” Not a plea, but his softer tone spoke of the man she’d spent those fiery minutes in the stone room with, and in her chest, something broke. “I promise I’ll leave Bellmont alone if you show us what you’re capable of.” Lenya patted the sword at his hip, gesturing that it would remain safely sheathed if she cooperated.
Lory met Khayrivven’s gaze over the shoulder of the Master of Whispers, savoring the softness spreading in his eyes while the rest of them were focused on Lory. He let his facade slip for her—only for her, and for a brief heartbeat—that was all he seemed to allow himself, but Lory caught that unguarded moment and the flicker of fear in his eyes as Lenya unsheathed his sword, pointing it at Aiden’s neck.
No regrets. She wouldn’t let Aiden suffer, only so she could deny something everyone already knew.
“All right.” Slowly, she sat back on her chair, the Triad’s and two guards’ suspicious glances following her every move while Khayrivven seemed to be holding his breath. “I’ll try. I’ve never summoned my magic at will, so it’s possible all you’ll see is a girl with a sweaty forehead.”
No one as much as smiled at her joke. Not even Khayrivven, whose hand hung casually by his sword.
“Very well, Vednis.” Lenya didn’t remove his blade from Aiden’s neck, nor did he show any other sign he was ready to let the ice wielder go. “Summon your magic, or he dies.” With bared teeth, Lenya bent over Aiden, grasping his collarwith his free hand and pinning him to the backrest of the chair. Aiden’s groan confirmed his visible injuries weren’t the only ones. “Now, Vednis.”
Inhaling a steadying breath, Lory positioned her hands in front of her, above the bowl, and closed her eyes.
If they’d wanted to kill her right away, they’d long done that, and they wouldn’t hurt Aiden until she showed first signs of failure, so she took her time, searching every nook and cranny of herself for signs of the smoldering heat that had erupted from her before.
All she found was a hint of warmth where the past two days in the dungeons had drained whatever strength she’d had from her. Not enough. She needed more. Real heat.
She was afraid enough to make her magic burst out of her for sure, yet it remained shy beyond a protective layer, as if knowing it meant a death sentence.
