“Order magic? Sure. It’s coming from our prisoner. He’s just in the tent through there.” She inclines her head toward the tent’s rear flap, rippling in the breeze.
I slow.
“I’m sorry, did you say prisoner?” I ask.
Gethin scowls. “See? Angharad doesn’t like it, either.”
“Of course she doesn’t.” Gwenydd clicks her tongue as she moves closer, her eyes scanning up and down the length of me. “She’s still half-loyal to the Order. At least.”
I narrow my eyes. “If I was half-loyal to the Order, I wouldn’t have come back last night. I would have just walked up to the High Swynwraig with the king’s army and asked to go home. Then I would have pointed them your way.” I hold her gaze. “Giving them intel on a rebel camp as big as this would have earned me a lot of esteem. A lot of gifts, too.”
She laughs sharply. “Right. Your little Order gifts. I heard they give you all baskets of cheese. Imagine selling your soul for that.”
“Enough, Gwenydd.” Rhian moves between us. “We’re all here for the same reason. To stop the Order from gaining full control of the stars’ magic.” She turns to me. “Gwenydd took a few of our scouts into the forest last night to get a better look at the king’s camp. They couldn’t see much, so they brought back this prisoner for questioning.”
I rub the back of my neck. It’s not a terrible strategy, but…
“They’re trained to resist in situations like this,” I say.
I was trained in it, too. Just not to the same extent. Seren insisted on a gentler approach with me. She was worried my power would react unpredictably if they pushed me too far, if they recreated what might happen if I got captured by the enemy. What someone might do to pry information out of me.
“Well, we’ve got to try,” Rhian says with a shrug. “Otherwise, we can’t know what that army is doing out there.”
“And we’re hoping he can tell us far more than that,” Gwenydd adds.
Rhian nods. “Why the Order took the god, where they’ve got the harp, and even what else was in that tomb. Until we know, we’re in the dark. We’ve got no idea what our next move should be.”
“We thought we could threaten him with the exile,” Gwenydd says, her eyes flicking toward Taliesin in the corner. “If he doesn’t talk, we’ll turn him to ice.”
“This is such a terrible idea,” Gethin mutters. He grips the edge of the table and leans over it, his eyes squeezed shut.
Across the room, I meet Taliesin’s gaze. He arches a brow, as if to say,can you believe this?Only yesterday morning, the rebels had his forehead encased in iron, and now they want to use his power as a threat to convince the prisoner to talk. I wonder if they can see the irony in that.
I give him a half-smile, then turn back to Rhian. “And why did you need me here?”
Her lips flatten. “We took a vote. It’s three against three. We need you to break the tie.”
“On whether to..?”
“Threaten the prisoner with the exile’s power,” Gwenydd answers. “We’ll have to show him we’re not bluffing, have him use his frost a little. It might be unpleasant.” Her eyes flick to Gethin. “Some of us thinktoounpleasant.”
My hands clench. “I see. Which way did Taliesin vote?”
“I voted to do it,” he says, his voice steady and calm.
It’s what I expected him to say, but I still feel my gaze drawn to him again, like I need to see the confirmation in his eyes. One end of his mouth tips upward, and the muscle in his jaw ticks again. No, that isn’t irritationoramusement I see in him. It’s anger. But at whom? Surely not at the rebels. At the prisoner?
I frown, asking him the silent question with my eyes, but he gives an almost imperceptible shake of his head. He doesn’t want to explain, not in front of the others.
Everyone else has gone still, their attention fixed on me. I look from one face to the other. Gethin’s features sag with despair and Gwenydd watches me with an eager glint in her eye while Rhian only looks tired. I’m going to anger or disappoint atleast half the people here, and I’m not even certain I’m right. I can only go with my gut.
“No,” I say.
A long, ragged sigh spills from Gethin in a full body shudder, like he’s been holding his breath for hours.
“What?” Gwenydd snaps.
“I vote no,” I repeat, meeting her gaze. “Question him the normal way. If you break him, it should be because there were other options, not because you were impatient.”
