Page 172 of Scourged
But she had no need for them. Not right now, not at this moment. Not when the full power of the queen hammered through her veins, not when immortality wrapped itself beneath her skin.
Not even the figure who stood closer than the rest, the shadow at her back. She could feel him, feel where his soul connected to hers. Felt her same anger blazing through him, the same need for revenge.
Mariah knew a few of the others likely shied away from her holding a knife to a boy’s throat.
She was thankful that at least the one her soul had wound itself closest to did not.
“I think you know far more than you think you do. I think you saw things in the castle at Khento. Things that you’re ready to share with us.” Mariah pushed back, standing, her dagger hanging loosely between her fingers.
Finn looked up at her, eyes still wide, terror still flushing his cheeks.
“I’m going to ask you some very specific questions, Finn. And how you answer them is going to determine whether you liveto breathe the fresh air again or if you will die in the bowels of this palace, doomed to live the rest of your days with only the company of the rats. Do you understand what I’m offering you?”
Finn nodded fervently; more blood from the wounds at his neck dripped onto his filthy pants.
“Good. Now.” Mariah tightened her grip around the hilt of her dagger. The dragon wings on the pommel dug into the skin above her thumbs. “When you were in Khento, before you were sent here. Did you see them?”
The boy’s lip quivered. “See who?”
The wing bit deeper. “The people the lords took, the ones being held captive in Khento.” She knelt again, this time leveling the tip of her dagger at the boy’s belly. “My family.”
She’d heard Finn’s delivered message; his dreaded words still rang through her ears, clattering against her skull. But she could not deny the part of her clinging to some foolish hope, that this was just a trick, some ploy to draw her away from Verith.
She could hold herself together, at least until her nightmares were confirmed.
All the blood drained from the boy’s face. “I … don’t … I don’t know, Your Majesty?—”
Silver-gold magic rushed from her skin, wrapping around the boy’s arms. They bit with her fury, and Mariah could feel the tiny cuts and slices they made across Finn’s skin like thousands of teeth attacking his flesh. Finn yelped in pain.
Somehow, she could taste it. His blood. The tang of his fear. The salt of his desperation.
“You know, Finn. I know you do. Who did you see?”
The boy shuddered, his eyes closing, another tear slipping free.
“There was …” He gulped down a sob. “There were three people brought in. The day before I was sent here with my message.”
There was a roaring in her ears, the beast in her chest thrashing wildly. But she was still, emotionless.
Empty.
“What did they look like? The people you saw?” Her voice was icy and detached. It didn’t sound like her own.
“There was a man,” Finn said, voice shaking as he reopened his eyes. “He was tall but old. Older. A soldier, or he was one at some point. His hair was gray, but not too bad.”
More screaming stillness. “And the other two?”
“A kid. Boy. Older than me? I don’t know. He had auburn hair. And he must’ve had magic because they had the cuffs on him.” Finn’s eyes widened as if realizing what he’d just said. He quickly deflated, sagging in his chair. “They only use the cuffs when someone has magic.”
The stillness was fracturing into a storm, crescendoing towards something uncontrolled.
She knew far too well what those cuffs felt like. The way they bit into the skin, the way they erected a wall between a person and their soul.
“And the third?” she whispered, deadly and quiet.
“A woman,” Finn said, still sagging in the chair. “The same age as the man. Curly dark hair, but it was going gray. She looked very kind and gentle. Like a healer. All the healers I’ve ever known have been kind.”
He has no idea.