I press my boot a fraction harder. “Where is your friend now?”
Vaimayr begins to weep in earnest. “Please. Please, it was my idea. Spare him.”
I bear my weight on my heel—seven seconds—until his face turns red. Sharp, panting gasps when I let up.
“It’s my wedding night, Vaimayr,” I purr, “and I’m spending it with you. I’m running out of patience.”
“He’s at his home on the east side of the city. Raivyn. Please, he has a daughter.”
Truth.
Behind me, I sense my father and Faramir’s energy signatures drawing closer. Better hurry this up.
“One last question, Vaimayr. Are you right-handed or left-handed?”
The bastard manages to crack open both eyes as he stares up at me, chin quivering with fear.
“L-left.”
My neck prickles.
He sobs as I yank his right arm out from the ropes binding him to the chair. One boot on his forearm, I arrange his hand flat on the floor. The hand that aimed a dagger at my wife.
The hand that might’ve succeeded if not for sheer luck.
Gritting my teeth, I stomp the heel of my boot again and again on his fingers. His wails fall on deaf ears as my heel grinds down his mangled hand.
The rage strangling me is partly aimed at myself—despite my promise, I didn’t protect her. I should’ve known this would happen, especially after the meeting with Jeyzar. It was foolish to leave her alone, even for a moment.
Satisfied Vaimayr will never use his hand again, not even to wipe his tears, I leave him whimpering on the dungeon floor. Faramir and my father wait outside the cell, wearing identical expressions of disdain.
“I’ve never known you to be so … heavyhanded, little brother,” Faramir drawls, peering into the cell through the small, barred window cut into the heavy door.
I ignore his jibe. “No one sent him,” I tell my father. “He was working with one other man. I’ll send a squad to retrieve him.” Perhaps the all-female squadron. They’ll need to find a new home for his daughter.
I brush past them toward the stairs. If I hurry, then—
“We need to talk about the girl.” The ice in my father’s voice rivals the tundra I crossed.
I stop, hand braced on the door frame. “Do you meanmy wife?”
A heavy sigh drifts through the air, then a reluctant “Yes.”
“What about her?” I don’t bother facing him.
“She healed a common in full view of the entire court. It was an embarrassment. My advisers say the whispers are vicious. They’re saying—”
“I’ve never known you to concern yourself with petty rumors.” I pivot on my heel, arms crossed, leaning against the door frame. If he thinks I give a skiesdamn about rumors, he’s a bigger fool than I thought.
My father presses his lips together so tightly, they nearly disappear into his beard. “They’re sayingyour wife is a Rebellion sympathizer. Feels sorry for commons. Some have even gone as far to suggest she’s a spy, working for the Rebellion.”
Fuck. All this in a few hours?
“I’ll manage the situation.”
“You were supposed to manageher,” my father grits out. Faramir chuckles, hateful eyes glinting. “Heed my words, Zevayr. I only allowed you to marry the girl on the condition that you keep her in line. No more healing commons. No more missteps. No more skiesdamned rumors. Am I clear?”
Faramir’s smirk grows wider.
