“Violet, please,” Nolon pleads, setting the journal on the table. “Just explain. Was it an unsanctioned squad challenge? Some kind of dare between second-years? They’re still trying to ascertain exactly what’s missing. Help us. Tell us, and this will go much easier for you.”
Trying to ascertain. They can’t get in.
“You’re jumping to the why part.” Varrish rolls his eyes. “Honestly, Nolon, this is why you’ve never been suited to interrogation.” His pale gaze locks on mine. “How?”
“How can you assume that book isn’t a reproduction if you haven’t verified the original is even missing?” I ask Nolon.
Nolon glances sideways at Varrish. “Markham said the coverlet wasn’t disturbed.”
“And yet we have the fucking journal.” Varrish walks a slow circle around me. “Is it a reproduction?”
He’s trying to catch me in a lie.
“I wouldn’t know, seeing as I haven’t examined it.” There hadn’t been time.
“Truth,” Nora rules.
Varrish stops in front of me, and I look straight into those pale, soulless eyes. “I’m guessing you have no proof, Major Varrish, because none of you can cross a royal ward, and no one is volunteering to tell the king that there’s been an alarm, false or otherwise. Please, let me remind you, the last time someone accused me of lying without proof, they found themselves assigned to the farthest outpost Luceras has to offer.”
“Ah, you mean Aetos.” He doesn’t even flinch. “No worries. I’ll ferret out the evidence he needs while I have you here under my supervision, since you’re proving to be combatant instead of helpful, as Nolon had hoped. Grady is such a stickler for rules, so our last encounter wasn’t nearly as fruitful as I would have liked.” He crouches, looking at me like I’m a shiny new toy he can’t wait to break. “Who stole that book for you?” He looks pointedly at my hands. “Because we both know you didn’t.”
Selective truth. That’s all I have within my arsenal to protect my friends.
“I alone put that particular book into its bag.”
“She’s telling the truth,” Nora remarks.
I glance from Varrish to Nolon. “And I’m done answering your questions. If you want to put me on trial, then call a quorum of wingleaders and do so according to the rules put forth in the Codex.”
Varrish stands slowly, then backhands me. Pain erupts in my cheek as my head snaps to the side under the force of the blow.
“Major!” Nolon shouts.
“Nora, order an immediate formation and check the hands of every cadet in the quadrant,” Varrish says as I blink through the sting. “Nolon, you’re dismissed.”
I breathe deeply, preparing for the coming pain as Varrish rolls up the sleeves of his uniform. I try to focus on a misshapen brick in the wall, try like hell to dissociate from my body.
No matter what happens in this room, they can’t change the fact that Xaden got out with Warrick’s journal. Brennan will have what he needs to raise Aretia’s wards. Whatever agony Varrish has planned will be worth it.
Violence, remember it’s only the body that’s fragile.You are unbreakable. I cling to Xaden’s words.
“I’ll call you when you’re needed,” Varrish promises, waving Nolon off.
When he’s needed to mend me.
“Don’t worry. I’ll start small,” Varrish tells me. “And you have all the power here, Cadet Sorrengail. This stops as soon as you talk.”
I cry out when he dislocates the first finger.
Then scream when he breaks it.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
I pretend the sound is rain against my window, pretend the hard, unforgiving wood under my cheek is Xaden’s chest, that the arm bent at an unnatural angle in front of me, throbbing in time with my pulse, belongs to someone else.
“Sleep if you can.” The suggestion is soft, the voice so achingly familiar that I squeeze my undamaged eye shut.
You’re not really here. You’re a hallucination from pain and dehydration. A mirage.
“Maybe,” Liam says, and I open my eye just enough to see him sit on the floor beside me. He pulls his knees up, resting his elbow on the side of the bunk just beneath my fractured arm. “Or maybe Malek sent me as a kindness.”
Malek doesn’t do kindness. Nor does he allow souls to wander about.Kudos to my brain; he’s an excellent hallucination. He looks exactly as he had the last time I saw him, dressed in flight leathers and wearing a smile that makes my heart ache.
“I’m not wandering, Violet. I’m exactly where I need to be.”
Everything hurts.Unending pain threatens to pull me into the blackness again, but unlike the last two times, I fight to stay conscious. It’s the first moment I’ve been alone in hours, and I no longer fear the chair in the middle of the room.
Now I know more bones break when Varrish takes me out of it.
“I know,” Liam says gently. “But you’re staying strong. I’m so proud of you.”
Of course that’s what my subconscious would say—exactly what I need to hear.
I run my tongue over the split in my lip and taste blood. Varrish hasn’t taken a blade to me, but my skin has split from his blows in so many places that I feel like one giant, open wound. The last time I moved, my uniform crunched from dried blood.
“Bring in her squad,” Nora suggests from the antechamber. “She’ll break as soon as you start on them.”
Liam’s jaw flexes, and fear knots my empty stomach.
“She didn’t during assessment,” Varrish responds. Gods, I wish I didn’t know his voice. “And bringing them in means they’ll know what’s happened, and given the relic winding around Imogen Cardulo’s arm, I doubt she’ll be willing to wipe their memories. Killing them presents an entirely different set of issues, too. You’re sure none of the cadets have hand injuries?”
“I inspected them all myself,” Nora replies. “Devera and Emetterio are asking where she is, as is the rest of her squad. She’s missed class today.”
It’s Monday.
I reach for Tairn, but the bond is still fogged. Right, because they forced that solution down my throat once again between shattering my arm and snapping my ankle. He didn’t even have to take off my boots to make that happen.
But it’s only my body they’ve broken. I haven’t spoken a single word.
“That means you’ve been here two days,” Liam says.
It will be another five before Xaden realizes I’m missing. No doubt they’re monitoring correspondence to make sure someone doesn’t alert him. He can’t react, Liam. If he does, he’ll risk everything.
“You think he’s not already losing his shit?” A corner of Liam’s mouth rises into the cocky smirk I’ve missed so much. “I’d bet he already knows. Sgaeyl will have felt Tairn’s panic. That dragon of yours might not be able to reach you this deep under Basgiath, but Xaden’s going to rip this place apart brick by brick. You just have to survive.”
He can’t risk the movement. He won’t.Xaden’s priorities have always been clear, and damn if that’s not one of the things I love about him.
“He will.”
The door opens, but I don’t have the energy or the ability to rise, to turn my head or even lift a hand. My heart jumps, pounding like it sees the chance to flee this hellscape of a body. I don’t know how to tell it that Mira’s armor will keep it safe long after it wishes it could just stop.
Varrish lowers himself to my eye level, no more than a foot away from Liam. “You must be in so much pain. It can all stop. Maybe Nolon was right. Let’s forget how you stole the book. You’re clearly not going to give up your accomplices. But I need to know why. Why would you need a journal from one of the First Six? I’ve been reading it. Interesting history. What are you trying to ward, Sorrengail?”
He waits, but I keep my words to myself. He’s way too fucking close.
“We could just stop dancing around each other and have a true discussion,”
he offers. “Surely you have questions I could answer about why it is we don’t involve ourselves in Poromish issues. Is that what this is? Righteous indignation? We could have an equal exchange of information, since we both know it wasn’t gryphons that killed your friend’s dragon.”
I startle, and pain washes over me, fresh and violent.
“Don’t fall for it.” Liam shakes his head. “You know he’s trying to play you.”
“But how much do you know?” Varrish asks softly, like it’s a kindness. “And what have you been doing with the marked ones? We’ve been watching them for years, of course, but until Cadet Aetos gave you up, all we’d had to go on was speculation. But then you didn’t come back to Basgiath. No outposts reported you seeking a healer. So, I’m going to rephrase my earlier question. Where did you go, Cadet Sorrengail? Where are you trying to ward?”
This is so much bigger than me stealing the book.
“Gods, you’re good. Or you’re in too much pain to react.” Varrish tilts his head, reminding me of an owl as he studies me. “Do you know what my signet is, Cadet Sorrengail? Why it is I’m so good in this room? It’s classified, but we’re all friends here, aren’t we?”
I stare at him but don’t reply.
“I don’t see people.” He tilts his head and studies me. “I see their weaknesses. It’s a great advantage in battle. Honestly, you surprised me when we met. From everything I’d heard about the youngest Sorrengail, I expected to look at you and see pain, broken bones, or maybe shame for never living up to Mom’s expectations.” He skims his finger over the obvious break in my forearm but doesn’t apply pressure. The threat is enough to make my chest tighten. “But I saw…nothing. Someone taught you to shield, and I’ll admit you’re very good at it.” He leans closer. “Do you want to know what I see now that we’ve cut you off from your power?”
Hatred wells within me and I hope he sees it.
“By Dunne, must I carry all of the conversation? ‘Yes, of course I want to know,’” he says, raising his voice in mock imitation. “Well, Cadet Sorrengail, your weaknesses are the people you love. So many people to choose from. Squad Leader Matthias and the rest of your squad, your sister, your dragons.” A twisted smile curves his mouth. “Lieutenant Riorson.”
My heartbeat skips.
“Hold steady, Violet,” Liam says.
“She’s triggered,” Nora notes from the doorway.
“I know,” Varrish replies. “And I bet you’re thinking he’ll be the one who comes for you, aren’t you?” He admires the bruises on my forearm like they’re artwork. “That come Saturday, when you don’t show in Samara, he’ll come looking, even if it means violating his leave policy. You’re pinning your hopes that he’ll break the rules for you. That he’ll save you, since your own mother hasn’t lifted a finger for you.”
My throat moves even though I’m too dehydrated to swallow.
“He won’t wait until Saturday,” Liam promises.
“That’s what I’m counting on.” Varrish nods. “I waited all year for you to break a rule so I could question you under Codex. Your mom’s a real rule follower that way. But you have no idea the joy it gives me to know that Fen Riorson’s son will break Codex by abandoning his post to come to your aid, that he’ll be strapped to this chair next. And he will give me the answers I seek.”
Wait. What?
“Shit. He’s not just questioning you. He’s setting a trap for Xaden.” Liam tenses.
My heart starts to pound.
“You have so much power here, Sorrengail. You alone can save Lieutenant Riorson from what awaits him should he arrive. Tell me what I want to know, and I won’t hurt him.”
For a heartbeat, I’m tempted. The thought of Xaden being tortured makes my hand curl and my nails catch on the rough grain of the wooden slab.
“Where are you trying to ward? What are the marked ones up to?”
“Hold the line, Vi.” Liam rests his hand against my side, and gods it feels so real. “Talking would lead to the deaths of every living thing on this Continent. If they had anything on Xaden, he’d already be in custody. They’re not going to hurt him. They can’t.”
Logically, I know that, but emotionally…
“No? You’re sure? You can save him. Right here. Right now. Because I think he’ll come, and when he does, I will break him—and I’ll make you watch,” Varrish promises in a whisper. “But don’t worry. You’ll be screaming your secrets in no time. Of course, by then I won’t need them. I’ll have who I really want.”
His gaze drops to my neck, as if he can see my pulse skyrocketing.
“Ahh, you see it now, don’t you?” Varrish grins. “I’m sure you think he’s indestructible, but let me assure you, I was lucky enough to glimpse the most powerful rider of your generation fumble his shields like a novice once. It was for less than a second, but that was all I needed to see what it would take to shatter him. We’ll have all the information we need in a matter of days. You’re not the prize, Sorrengail. You’re the tool.”
Fuck him.
“Does Solas enjoy hiding?” My voice croaks, and I cough.
He blinks but quickly masks his surprise.
“Just because you’ve blocked my ability to talk to Tairn doesn’t mean he doesn’t know exactly what you’ve done to me.” My lip splits again when I force a smile. “You’re hunting Xaden. But Tairn is hunting Solas. You’re the weaker on both counts. I might die in this chamber, but I promise you will.”
“Just because I can’t kill you without losing my target doesn’t mean I won’t shatter you over and over until he arrives. We’re going to have fun, you and I.” He stands, then brushes his hands on the thighs of his uniform before walking out. I hear his faint words through the door: “Call Nolon in. We need to start fresh.”
But Varrish is wrong. Xaden won’t come. He’ll choose the safety of the revolution. I’m now one of the people he can’t save. I just have to hope that everyone is wrong, that he’ll survive my death.
“Don’t leave me,” I whisper to Liam. I don’t care that I’m far gone enough to hallucinate, that my brain is using Liam as a crutch as long as he stays, as long as I’m not alone.
“I won’t. I swear.”
…
Drip. Drip. Drip. I lose track of the hours, the beatings, the questions I refuse to answer.
Nolon visits twice, or maybe it’s three times.
Life is varying degrees of pain, but Liam never leaves. He’s there every time I open my eyes, watching, talking me through the torture, holding my sanity together while simultaneously proving it’s already left.
At least once a day, they chain me into the chair and force the serum down my throat, blocking me from Tairn. I eat the food they provide because survival matters most, and I sleep after each mending session, only to wake and be broken again and again.
My ribs are cracked thanks to a well-placed kick, and my left arm snaps in the same exact place Varrish broke it the first time, which tells me that not only am I not at full strength, Nolon isn’t, either.
“We could bring in Jack Barlowe if this doesn’t work.” Nora’s voice rises, bringing me fully awake from where I’ve dozed off in the chair. “Gods know he’s been waiting for retribution.”
“Tempting,” Varrish replies. “I’m sure he’d be happy to find new and inventive ways to motivate her, but we can’t trust him not to kill her. Can’t trust that kid for anything, really, can we? Too unpredictable.”
“Still can’t believe that fucker survived,” Liam mutters from where he stands leaned against the wall to the right of the door.
Gods, I’m sore and swollen at the broken places, and discolored on the bits of skin I can see. Everything hurts. I’m not even sure I’m me anymore as much as I am pain encased in a failing body.
But Rhiannon isn’t being put through this, or Ridoc, or Sawyer, or Imogen, or Quinn. Everyone I care about is safe. That’s what I grasp onto.
“You know, Sloane hates me,” I whisper.
“Sloane can be tough.” Liam shoots me an apologetic half smile. “You’re doing a good job.”
“Yeah, I’m a great role model.” It’s all I can do to keep from rolling my eyes.
“You asked to see me, sir? Down here? There have to be a dozen guards in the stairwell.”
That voice. Fear slides down my spine, leaving chills in its wake as Liam’s head jerks toward the door.
Dain.I’m so fucked. We all are.
“I did,” Varrish responds. “I need your help. Navarre needs your help.”
“What can I do?”