10. Max
MAX
T he vast interrogation room was dark except for the area where I sat on a very uncomfortable iron chair, its coldness biting through my rough pants. Three Stormglass-powered beams hit my face directly, blinding me.
Psychological warfare, the demon offered. A power play designed to intimidate us. Joy. The princelings don’t know who we are, and we let them underestimate us, until we don’t.
I stared ahead, refusing to flinch. The heirs sat twenty feet behind a long table, their faces shadowed. Aelindor and Nikolai in the center. Drakken and Caspian flanking them. With the light in my eyes, I couldn’t read their expressions.
“Your true name, warlock.” Drakken’s voice cut cold.
I glanced at the water glasses on their table. Tried not to lick my cracked lips.
“Max Morning.”
“Louder!”
“This is how I speak.” I kept my voice flat. “Born with a low vocal register. Never could afford a doctor. If you’re hard of hearing, move closer.”
Two of them snickered. Caspian and Nikolai, definitely.
Drakken’s jaw tightened. “My hearing’s superior.”
“Then you don’t need me to shout.”
Nikolai stood. “Let’s move the table. No need to yell across the room.”
“Since when do we cater to prisoners?” Drakken sneered, but Caspian was already dragging the table forward. Four guards rushed to help—princes shouldn’t carry furniture.
Within moments, they sat three feet away. I should’ve kept my mouth shut. Now they were too close.
“Water, please.” The word slipped out before I could stop it.
“Nothing until you talk.” Drakken didn’t blink.
The dragon prince and I were definitely going to get along well.
Aelindor stood, taking his water glass. Caspian and Nikolai did the same.
Drakken stared. “What are you doing?”
Nikolai shrugged. “When did we start starving?—”
“That’s enough.” Aelindor’s voice cut through. “Bring Max food and water. We resume questioning when he’s recovered. I’ll handle it personally from now on.”
Their voices blurred. A wave of nausea hit.
Fuck, I thought I could sustain the entire interrogation and get this over with after Ann brought me back from the brink of death. I overestimated myself. And hunger, grief for Rogue, and worry for Desta and Kaid weakened me further.
Black stars edged my vision.
I passed out.
The demon filled me in afterward. Even unconscious, I couldn’t escape it. But right now, it proved useful.
Caspian had carried me to an underground cell himself, refusing to let guards touch me. Ann was summoned to check me again, saying I needed rest, food, water. She also warned against straining me mentally before I recovered.
The heirs argued outside while I lay on a cot.
The demon replayed it?—
“What spells?” Caspian’s voice floated through the door. “You think he bewitched us? Are you for real?”
“You went too far this time, Drakken.” Nikolai.
“I’m the only one thinking clearly.” Drakken’s voice was ice.
“That warlock influenced you. Changed your behavior. Why did you rush to see him like your life depended on it, Caspian? You moved like an obsessed fool. You’ve never been that eager for any woman you fucked.
” He shook his head in a moment of confusion, then disgust. “And he’s not even female. ”
Silence.
Drakken turned. “And you, Nikolai. You hovered over him in the infirmary like a possessive lover. Made me sick.”
“I like the smell of his blood,” the vampire prince said.
“Witch blood!” Drakken snapped. “You acted like he was the only blood that mattered.” He threw his hands up. “None of you are acting normally around him. Check yourselves!”
He turned to Aelindor, frustration clear even in the demon’s playback. “With all due respect, sir, you actually smiled at the boy witch. I don’t recall ever seeing you smile.”
Aelindor’s frown deepened. “I do know how to smile.”
Caspian and Nikolai exchanged a quick glance before scowling at each other, remembering they were still rivals despite sharing a secret.
“My dragon can identify bloodlines.” Drakken’s voice dropped, heavy with hatred. “He smelled potent witch blood in that warlock. Top tier. The kind that belongs exclusively to the White Witch’s direct line.”
Silence stretched for a long second outside the cell.
“When I prove that boy witch is in any way connected to that bitch,” Drakken spat, cold fury and pure hate searing his eyes, which had shifted from gray to amber, “mercy won’t be granted.”
Darling Max Morning. The demon concluded with a soft, taunting laugh. Even you don’t know what you really are. You can ask me though.
Never.