Harthon’s lips lifted. “Most people hardly know what amagviseven is. No one knows what amagvisacts like. You get to set the standard.”
My eyes widened. He presented it like an opportunity, but setting a standard was a responsibility I didn’t want.
“And she gets to set it now,” North said from a door on the opposite side of the room. “Everyone’s accounted for.”
Harthon swept a hand behind my back and steered me toward the door, Ana and Callen following. “You’ll stand next to Ana. I’m the only one who will speak. Your only responsibility is to stand there and not look scared,” he explained as we moved. We reached the door, and only now could I hear the low murmurs of conversation and shuffling feet from behind the stone walls. “And I apologize in advance for what you’ll see.”
I whipped my head to him to ask what he meant, but North swung the door open, and I was ushered into the muted light by Ana.
Chapter 12
As soon as I stepped onto the raised platform, I wished the floor would split in two and swallow me whole. The training grounds were a massive square courtyard, fenced by the Citadel’s tall stone walls, and nearly every square inch was covered by an expansive crowd of people. Most of them wore training leathers, while others wore aprons or workwear, but all of them were ending their conversations and staring up at us.
Never before had so many people looked at me.
How in the Domus was I supposed tonotlook scared?
One by one, those who were close to the platform noticed my eyes, and their faces turned from worried curiosity to shocked apprehension. Ana tugged me to a stop on the side of the platform, only steps away from the door that beckoned to me with open arms. Harthon swaggered to the middle of the platform, Callen and North flanking him. Their faces were stoic while Harthon stood with a natural ease, as if the weight of hundreds of eyes weren’t suffocating him like they were me.
“I expect that what I tell you will spread to the rest of the city center and our Territory. Make sure it does.” Harthon’s voice boomed with authority, echoing off the walls. “You have heard that the Domus was erected by an unnatural being. That is correct. The name of thisbeing is themagvis, and with the help of a small troop of men, I have acquired the only one to currently exist.”
There were no gasps, no cries of worry, as I expected. Surprise was plastered on every face that knowingly turned to me, but no one dared to utter a sound. Frannie had said Harthon mercilessly gutted two men at the last gathering. It seemed as if everyone was afraid to invoke his wrath.
Harthon continued bluntly. “Like anymagvisbefore her, she has violet and gold eyes. She is not a threat to our Territory. She is a gift. You will treat her as such. With me, themagviswill improve the difficult lives we’ve known for too long. If you fear her, it is because you doubt me and my judgment.” He paused for a few moments, swiveling a pointed look across the crowd, a majority of which shriveled.
I had a feeling that doubting Harthon was akin to launching oneself off the wall walk.
“If you touch, harm, or take her, you will die, just as these men did.”
Harthon pivoted to the wall behind us. A moment later, I understood what Harthon had apologized for. Four bodies were thrown from the wall walk above, ropes around their necks jerking them to a stop high off the ground.
They were my attackers from last night, their faces ghastly pale and bloated, blood staining their bodies. A knife still protruded from the head of the man who’d fallen on me. All of their eyes were open, revealing glazed, waxy stares that chilled every bone in my body.
It was a ruthless statement.
Harthon turned back to the crowd. “If you give me the opportunity, I’ll continue decorating these walls.” The promise rang clear and true. He let silence hang, allowing his threat to burrow deep into the hearts and souls of every person who listened. When he spoke again, it was to say, “That is all.”
Ana tapped my arm, and I followed her to the door as the three men trailed behind us. It was an incredibly short gathering, two minutes at most, but Harthon had made his point with the forceful efficiency of an executioner’s ax.
“That was quick,” I muttered as the door sealed us inside the room.
Harthon walked past me to lean against the table, crossing one ankle over the other. Given that he’d just threatened his entire Territory, the image of nonchalance was incredibly deceptive. “They were already dead. There was no need to draw it out.”
As the muted sounds of movement and conversation arose outside, I stared at the man who commanded the attention of so many people as if it were his to own. He would have splayed open my attackers’ stomachs on that platform had they been alive. Of that I had no doubt.
“Do you always turn to threats when asking something of your people?”
Muscles bunched as he folded his arms across his chest. “Only when necessary. This situation offers no room for softness.”
“Are you going to just leave those men there?”
“Until their stench interferes with our training,” he answered calmly, as if the smell of decaying bodies was no more than an inconvenience.
Callen, who stood beside me, nudged me with a hard elbow. “I was told you got a few good strikes in. I’m glad we have something to work with in training, Fish Eyes.”
He meant it as a commendation, but all I felt was inadequacy. “A few good strikes weren’t enough.” Ihadmanaged to injure some of the men, but all of my hits came from blind desperation, not strategy or balance or technique. It wasn’t enough to stop them from killing me. Had Harthon not intervened, I’d be dead. If I found myself in a similar situation again, I might not survive.
When Harthon spoke next, it was with absolute conviction. “Thosefew good strikes were more than most in your position would have managed to do. It was four against one. Only a handful of my trained soldiers could have beat those odds. If there’d been one less man, you would’ve escaped them.”
