Page 62
“Test them,” the dark, masculine voice commanded.
“What?”
“Test them. I will not repeat myself again.”
I shook my arms, yanked them down with all my strength, and found that every time I moved, needles slid into my flesh and shredded it. I bit into my lip, ravaging it to try and keep from screaming, but it was no use, as the pain was a lance in my sensory deprivation, heightening everything. The sound of my panting echoed off the walls and through me, adrenaline flooding into my veins.
“Good. Now that we are clear, I will ask you questions. If you lie, the shackles will bite. If you do not answer, the shackles will bite. If I deem your answer is not good enough, the shackles will bite. If—”
“If I don’t suck your cock right, the shackles will bite. Blah, blah, blah. Yes, I get it. Make master happy, or the shackles will bite.”
A hot breath caressed the sensitive point of my ear. I hadn’t even heard him move, hadn’t felt his presence behind me. Fear laced with a strange sense of arousal and tangled in my mind as a ball of twine being batted between two cats.
“Your sharp tongue will not help you here. Dull it. Our audience is not amused.”
The voice was definitely The Raven, that telltale thunder rippling over me and splitting the core of me in two, letting a river of need wash through me.
“What is your name?” he asked from my left.
When had he moved? Did I not just feel him pressed against my back? The distance of the voice was disorienting. Left. Right. Up. Down. I could barely tell where he was. He could be right in front of me, sharpening a knife, and I wouldn’t be able to tell.
“Which one?”
“You don’t get her true name,” he hissed to what I assumed was the spectators that he had mentioned.
“Cricket,” I answered, pitching my voice so that it wasn’t a bellowing call into the darkness around me.
“Why did you kill the King?”
“I didn’t.”
That should be it, right? That should be all there was to this sham of an interrogation. The rules were clear. I lie, the shackles bite, yet there was no pain.
A knife was placed at my stomach, and the tip pushed through to slice at my belly. I hissed as I felt the small trickle of blood.
“Lie,” said The Raven to my right.
How was he doing that? If he had stabbed me, how was he to my right now?
“Who hired you to kill the King?” he said to my left in quick succession.
My head spun, trying to find direction in the blackness, struggling to keep up with him.
“Are you running? Why can’t I hear you?”
The bite of the shackles caused me to tilt my head back and whimper in pain.
“Evasion.”
To the right again.
“Who hired you to kill the King?”
To the left.
“No one!”
The knife at my belly twisted just enough to elicit a yelp from me.
