I eye him. “That’s two questions. My turn. Why do you have the king?”
“Our scouts sent word that he was in an unarmed escort outside Coban. And Queen Morvarid will pay a hefty price for the return of her son.” He lifts his bearded chin to me. “Your glow?”
I pause, searching for the right words. “A gift from the stars.”
His eyes narrow, calculating knowledge sweeping across them, and I falter for a second. Does he understand what I am and what I can do? These men weren’t always Scavs—theybecameScavs, and this Scav in particular isn’t like the others. Despite his self-professed addiction, he’s clever. He could be from any city in Oryndhr. From anyhouse.
Holy fuck.
I almost don’t want to ask, but I do. “Where are you from?”
“Your question is vague,” he says, humor twisting his ugly lips as if he knows exactly why I am asking the question. “I am a Scav.”
“What is your house then?”
“We are the nameless,” he says with a mocking look. I glare at him and fold my arms across my chest. He smiles, and suddenly, I know the answer before the gravelly reply leaves his lips. “Eloni, formerly the House of Fomalhaut.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
A commotion behind me grabs my attention as Roshan and Aran enter with Javed hanging like a rag doll between them. He’s more conscious after the dose from the inhibitor, but his face is still pale, and his ice-blue eyes are bloodshot. His head keeps lolling backward as if it’s connected to his neck with strings. They’ve wrapped a threadbare woolen cloth over his shoulders, but glimpses of his bruised and beaten body peek through. Javed is a piece of horse shit, but I still feel sorry for him.
“How badly is he hurt?” I ask.
“He’s out of it, but he’ll live.”
“Roshan—” I begin, and halt with a harsh breath.
“I know, Suraya.”
His brown eyes meet mine, and I can see the conflict within them. I don’t have to explain what I was about to say—my thoughts are the same as his. We both know that Javed, no matter his current state, can’t be trusted. But we also can’t just leave him here to die. He’s the king, after all, and Roshan’s half brother by blood.
Plus, we have far more urgent matters to deal with, like getting out of this garrison before we’re surrounded by an overeager troop of Scav reinforcements hopped up on Jade. I also can’t help feeling a twinge of pity for them and their addiction.
“Don’t feel sorry for me, little one,” the captain says, reading my expression and confirming some degree of emotional intelligence as well. “I make my own choices.”
“Where’s your war room?” I ask him abruptly, slightly unnerved. Most military strongholds have them, and it’s clear continuing to underestimate the Scavs—especially this leader—would be a mistake. We need information. Maps, records, plans, anything useful.
“Through there,” he answers helpfully, indicating a pair of exterior doors.
Roshan stares at the captain, a muscle ticking with slow menace in his jaw. “Could be a trap with a dozen of your men waiting.”
Slash Throat smiles. “That’s a risk you’ll have to take.”
His words send ice down my spine. So far everything in this shithole has been the worst. Unlocking the cage, I lift my dagger and point it at the Scav’s head. “Try anything and I will not hesitate to put you down like the rabid thing you are. This blade can cut through bone.”
My words only make him smile wider. “Such sweet nothings, Starkeeper.”
“You told him?” Roshan’s eyes fly to mine as we leave the cell and file toward the exit, Javed lolling limply against Aran.
“He already knew,” I say. “He saw when I had to use my abilities earlier. And he’s Fomalhaut from Eloni. Arcanist, if I have to guess.”
We enter a narrow hallway that connects to another chamber. Inside, the handful of Scavs on duty fall at ease at the gruff order from their captain, even though they stare at us with suspicion and hostility.
My mouth falls open as I scan the room. There’s jadu everywhere. Like, enormous stockpiles of it, enough to make the magic in my blood hum in response.
I scan the Scavs and realize two of the four have runic markings on their skin like Aran. And like their captain, they seem clear-minded.
Slash Throat stares at me, pale eyes indecipherable. That stare makes me nervous. For a moment, I think about shooting one of theremaining vials of Jade into his neck as a precaution. But we need him conscious if we want answers quickly.
