Chapter 39
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
FOX
F ox shook off the grips of the guards as they attempted to drag him from the interrogation chamber. He kept his shoulders rigid, back straight, as he left, not pausing his stride as the door closed behind him. His father wouldn’t listen to him. He wouldn’t listen to reason. He wouldn’t get any information out of Sofia, but he’d kill her in the process of trying. So Fox would get the one person that his father would have to listen to: the chief commander.
The chief commander didn’t question Fox’s intentions when he burst into his office and explained that his father was compromised. Fox was protecting the best interests of the military, Sofia had information, and her death wouldn’t get them anywhere.
The soldiers that had left the room on his father’s command were stationed at the door when Fox returned. They paled under the chief commander’s glare.
“Open the door,” Chief Commander Harlow barked, not bothering to even slow down, assuming his order would be obeyed. The taller soldier—a high specialist that Fox vaguely recognized—jumped at the command.
Fox kept his eyes down as he followed the chief commander into the room. A small voice in his mind told him his father would know— if he looked Fox in the eyes, he would know why Fox had stopped the interrogation. But his father only had eyes for the chief commander as the taller man strode into the room with an air of authority rivaled only by the king.
“General Ocon, stand down.”
“Chief Commander, sir,” his father’s voice was rough and low. Fox glanced at him only briefly. His face was splattered with blood, skin tinged pink, and hair disheveled. And as the chief commander kneeled down, Fox couldn’t stop his eyes from following, taking in the crumpled form of Sofia. She was covered in blood, and Fox had to swallow back his rage. He kept his face neutral even as he held in his own scream.
He was going to kill his father for this. Fox had never been so sure of anything in his life, and the anticipation of knowing one day he would see the life drain from his father’s eyes—that he would be the cause of it—gave him the strength to not lunge at his father now and wrap his hands around his throat.
The chief commander lifted Sofia’s head, moving the matted curls from her face. He picked up her left hand and examined the stub of a finger and Fox heard the sharp intake of breath.
“King’s balls, it is you.” The chief commander stood before Fox could even register the foul curse. “Take her to my personal interrogation room. I wish to speak with her myself.”
Fox jumped at the order, along with the two guards. They unchained her and Fox picked her up, feeling only slightly queasy as her blood soaked through his tunic. They took the direct tunnel that led from the prison into the chief commander’s house, the two other soldiers leading the way. She only stirred briefly as they walked, but he was happy she didn’t wake. He didn’t want her to see him like this—covered in her blood and escorting her to her next prison cell.
The moment he’d laid her out in the new cell and one guard had re-chained her hands, he snapped at the other to fetch medical supplies.
“If the chief commander wants to speak with her,” he snarled when the guard hesitated, “you better ensure she’s alive for it.”
The room was small, but it was warmer than the last they’d been in, a fire already burning merrily in the hearth. There was an ornate and cushioned chair in the corner, clearly made for the chief commander’s own comfort while interrogating his prisoners. There was still a small rack against the wall, lined with various equipment and weapons. This was no less a torture chamber than the one before.
Fox stared at the rack while he waited. He wanted to check over Sofia himself, brush the hair from her face, but he didn’t deserve to touch her. Eventually, the guard returned with a healer and a bag of supplies.
The weathered man with his hunched back and wiry hair stripped off Sofia’s shirt, not bothering with her modesty. Fox averted his eyes and snapped at the two guards, sending them away on orders to prepare their reports.
And then he watched as the healer dabbed away the blood, stitching up the worst of the wounds and smoothing on a balm to keep infection at bay.
With the man’s back turned, Fox made quick work of perusing the man’s bag, grabbing out a few supplies for himself. He still hadn’t admitted to anyone that he had stitches running across his stomach and back. The wounds were easy to explain, the treatment he’d received from the non-citizen tribe wouldn’t be.
He had just slipped a small tin of numbing powder into his pocket when the healer turned back to Fox with the smallest of frowns. “She has a few broken ribs, but they aren’t life threatening. The salve will stop the infection from setting in long enough that you’ll have time to get your information.”
Because that’s all that mattered.
“Thank you.”
The healer left, muttering something about not needing to heal prisoners if the interrogations weren’t so violent, but Fox ignored him, kneeling at Sofia’s side with gritted teeth.
She was still unconscious and a part of him recognized he should be thankful for this. The healer hadn’t given her anything for pain, so it would return once she opened her eyes again.
He hated himself for caring. Caring hurt. It made his chest ache and his eyes burn. It made him want to grab her and run. To take them both far into the mountains and away from anything that might hurt her again.
“Fox?” His name was a prayer on her lips. She was lying on the ground, arranged on her stomach so the worst of the damaged body was off the ground. She tried to sit up.
“Don’t,” he said, stepping around her so she could look at him directly without jarring her wounds.
She didn’t move again, but her eyes roamed around the part of the room she could see. As her eyes fell on the fire, she jerked back, as if burned.
“Stop!” he snapped as she pushed back and let out a guttural groan. She kept flailing, like a fish on dry land, attempting to escape despite the impossibility of it. “Stop,” he said, voice more earnest.
“You’re okay. You’re okay,” he said. It was a desperate lie. You’re okay for now . “Breathe.” The word was as much a mantra to him as it was to her. Her moss green eyes met his, and he realized she was afraid. No, not afraid. Terrified.
He grabbed her hand, the only part of her seemingly uninjured, and squeezed.
“The chief commander wants to talk to you himself. Just give up what he wants. Answer his questions with half-truths. Whatever you need to do to make him happy. Please .”
His words seemed to rouse her and she moved, just barely, to turn her face up to meet his.
“Fuck you. I won’t give him what he wants. You can tell him that yourself.”
She pulled her hand away and closed her eyes. Fox was left sitting beside her, helpless and disgusted at himself for his own inability to act.
* * *
Fox heard the snap of the chief commander’s boots down the hall long before he entered the chamber, giving him time to step away from Sofia and lean himself against the wall as if he’d been waiting for him there the entire time. He was surprised to see the chief commander shut the door behind himself. There were no others with him.
“Sir,” Fox said, giving a salute. “I had the healer do enough to make sure she was alive and conscious for your questioning.”
The chief commander patted Fox’s shoulder and smiled. His eyes were focused only on Sofia. She was sitting up, at least as best as she could with the damage to her back and body. She was sneering, but Fox saw the hitch in her breathing. It was taking everything to keep herself upright.
“Sofia, Sofia,” the chief commander spoke at last and she went rigid at the sound of her name. “You thought I’d forget about you? I always regretted how you died—well, then again, I guess your death didn’t take, anyway.”
“Sir,” Fox said, still pressed against the wall. “Should I leave, sir?”
“Stay, Junior Major,” he said, turning to him with something akin to pride. “From what I hear, this is the one that kidnapped you, yes?”
Fox bit his tongue, willing his face not to give anything away. “Yes, sir.”
“Is she a leader among them?”
“I don’t think so, just the bait.”
“Pretty bait, at that. I do hope you didn’t get distracted.”
Fox’s stomach churned. “Not by that, sir.”
“Tell me, Sofia,” he said, leaning over her. “What are the resistance’s plans?”
She looked feral, baring her teeth at the man. He reached out as if to touch her and she snapped at him. He didn’t react, only dropping his hand.
“Were you responsible for the dragon my men saw out there?” Harlow asked.
Fox was glad the man’s back was turned because his mask slipped for the briefest moment.
“Were you controlling it? Did you call it?”
“The gods can’t be controlled,” she said, the first words she’d spoken since Harlow had come in the room.
“We killed all your friends,” he said, voice so soft, Fox barely heard him. “There are no savages left to help you. So tell me, where are you keeping the dragon?”
She only glared back him at.
He stood after a moment and walked around the room, brushing his fingers against the weapons along the wall. When the chief commander stopped next to the last one, a finger running along the metal, Sofia went even grayer. He was caressing the branding iron.
“Is the resistance trying to bring the dragons back?”
“The dragons are dead,” Sofia said.
“You and I both know you don’t believe that. You never have. Now, tell me, where is the dragon?”
The questions went on for another hour, the chief commander never raising his voice or even his hands. He didn’t so much as threaten Sofia. He knew, just as Fox did, that pain wouldn’t convince her of anything. His father had tried that tactic.
Eventually, Chief Commander Harlow slipped from the room, motioning for Fox to follow, leaving Sofia slumped on the floor.
They walked halfway down the hallway before the chief commander turned to Fox.
“What are your thoughts?”
“Sir?” Fox felt wrung out and too tired to understand what Harlow was asking of him.
“How might we get her to talk? Put all that strategy reading to use.”
Fox had to swallow back a startled laugh. The chief commander was using this as an opportunity to train him, to teach him. He pushed away all thoughts of Sofia. He couldn’t think of her.
“Pain won’t work. Threatening her own life won’t work. And—” he paused, wondering if he should say it, but knowing the chief commander wasn’t ignorant. He knew what Fox had seen in the room. “And I don’t think she’ll give anything up to you specifically, sir. She doesn’t appear to like you .”
“I imagine she hates me and wants me to burn in the dragon hells or whatever those heathens believe in.” He smiled and Fox let out a breath. He’d passed the test. “She won’t admit anything to anyone with only her life on the line. Take her back to the cells and put her with the rest of her comrades. We’ll see how she feels when her friends start their interrogations.”
Fox nodded, realizing that in trying to save Sofia, he might have just condemned her friends.
“Fox,” the chief commander spoke again even as he turned away. “You’ve done well. Marking the base, escaping, and returning to immediately help with the interrogations. You’ve already proved my judgment correct. You’re going to make a fine soldier, Junior Major. I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you, sir.”
He turned, taking his time returning to the cell where they’d left Sofia. Despite the exhaustion and the horrors from the last day, the chief commander’s voice rang in his ears and sent a thrill racing through his blood.
I’m proud of you .