Chapter 28
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ambrose snarled. “Now let me go! You cannot imprison me without reason.”
Finn let out an exasperated sigh.
“What a typical answer. I expected better from someone who killed some of our academy’s finest.” Finn laid down the accusation in a smooth tone.
Castien watched Ambrose, analyzing his reactions to Finn’s words.
Ambrose’s nostrils flared. Castien wished Wren were able to give insight.
If her Gift wasn’t a secret, he could have used it for extra leverage.
He could make do without it given the evidence, but the power she wielded would be a boon.
His gaze shifted to her. She was watching Ambrose, too, with intense focus.
The gray cloak she wore was still pulled over her head, sharpening her beauty.
Tonight she was more thorns than petals.
Fitting, since Castien would bleed for the opportunity to hold her again.
“Killed?” Ambrose questioned. “I haven’t killed anyone!”
“We know about the Games, Ambrose,” Castien said, low and menacing. “As Lord Finnick said, you’ve been given an opportunity to clear your name. Don’t waste it.”
Ambrose’s eyes bounced around the room rapidly. Sweat trickled down his temples. After far too long hesitating, he shook his head.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I-I swear. Soren is a liar! You know that. He-he’s trying to pin something on me.”
“Which is it, Ambrose?” Finn drolled while watching his blade spin. The way he lounged in the chair was at odds with his dark tone. “Are you ignorant, or do you know something that would prove Soren wrong?”
“If you don’t provide evidence, we’ll be forced to take him at his word,” Castien added. “He said Calypsia would side with him.”
Ambrose’s eyes flashed. He jerked on his bindings again.
“I didn’t do anything! I don’t know anything!” he shouted.
Finn tipped his head back to look at Castien.
“Shall I show him what we do to liars, cousin?”
Castien dipped his chin. Finn flicked his wrist and sent his dagger soaring without looking away from Castien.
The blade embedded into the back of the chair, right next to Ambrose’s temple.
Wren sucked in a sharp breath. Castien glanced at her.
Did she look paler, or was that merely the cloak’s doing?
“All right! I-I’ll talk. Soren killed him, okay? He did it, and he made me promise not to tell anyone!”
Finn smirked and rose from the chair. He bent down and grabbed the dagger, then held the point in front of Ambrose’s right eye.
“Much better. Keep talking, because next time I won’t miss,” Finn threatened. He took his seat again and spun the dagger. Ambrose focused on the glinting blade.
“Who did Soren kill?” Castien asked.
“The swordsman, Heron. He beat him up in the gardens at night, then threw him outside the Wall.”
Again, Castien looked to Wren. He wished she wasn’t wearing the cloak so he could make out her expression better, but at the same time he was glad for whatever protection it afforded her.
She stared ahead, and he made out the thin line of her lips.
He decided to push on. The faster they got the confession, the faster they could move on.
Castien glared at the monster. “Why?”
Ambrose’s gaze bounced around again. He was thinking. Coming up with a way to make the truth fit the narrative that would save him. Little did he know, nothing would save him now.
“Heron found out about the Games. Soren rigged them to get the names of the prisoners switched. Some soldier that hurt Calypsia got thrown in jail for a bar fight. He shouldn’t have gone into the Games, but Soren wanted to make him pay.
” Ambrose panted. “Heron heard him bragging about it and started trying to find evidence of other deals he thought were immoral. Soren caught onto it and tried to get him to be quiet, but he said he wouldn’t. So he killed him.”
“And the others?” Castien pressed.
Ambrose’s brows furrowed. “Others? I–I—” He choked as Finn’s blade lifted in warning. “He became bloodthirsty! Wanted to kill anyone who got in his or Calypsia’s way. Once he knew he could kill, he didn’t stop.” Ambrose stumbled over the words.
Castien knew there were holes in the story, but even with the knowledge he possessed, he couldn’t fill them in entirely. He turned to Wren.
“Wren? Do you have anything you want to ask?” He wanted to give her the opportunity, as much as it pained him for her to be here at all. She didn’t belong in the darkness. Flowers like her belonged beneath the sun, thorns and all.
She shook her head wordlessly.
Finn stood and stretched as though the time spent had bored him.
“On to the next?” he asked with a flourish of his dagger.
“Yes, let’s not waste time,” Castien replied, and started for the door. He touched his hand lightly to Wren’s back to lead her.
“You can’t leave me here!” Ambrose shouted, rocking the chair beneath him.
“Careful, if you knock yourself over, that’s where you’ll stay,” Finn singsonged.
Ambrose halted, seething. “You will pay for this!”
Finn laughed humorlessly. “Making threats while helpless, what an interesting choice. Not one I would have made. How about you, cousin?”
“Certainly not,” Castien said, his tone black as ink. He and Wren stepped over the threshold, Finn behind them.
Ambrose was quiet once more as Finn closed the door. Eindar crossed over and locked it.
“Two down, one more to go,” Finn said in a too-cheery voice. “Shall we?”
Castien paused in the hall, turning to face Wren. He grasped her hood and pulled it back. She blinked up at him, her face bathed in torchlight.
“Are you okay, dearest?” he whispered, searching her expression for signs of distress. “If it is too much, I can send Finn in without me, and we can wait on his report together.”
Wren shook her head again, her braid swaying with the movement.
“I have to continue. For Heron.” Her words were clipped. Castien could tell she wasn’t capable of much more than that. He didn’t want her to end up hurt, but he couldn’t force her to step away either.
“All right, then we’ll go in. But if you need a break or to leave, please tell me.”
“I will,” she replied.
Castien did not believe her. Still, he turned to Finn and Eindar, gesturing to the door that Soren was behind. Eindar unlocked it, and instead of spewed curses, they were met with eerie silence.
Soren was bound the same as Ambrose: his hands tied to the arms of the high-back chair he occupied, his legs wrapped tightly against the front two legs of the chair.
He didn’t struggle or yell, simply watched as Finn dragged a chair to lounge in front of him.
The only sign of distress came when he spotted Wren.
He couldn’t hide the startled jump of his brows.
“Your friend Ambrose was much more talkative,” Finn commented casually as he settled in. He’d sheathed his dagger before walking into the room, instead opting to fold his hands over his abdomen in a relaxed manner.
“Why am I here?” Soren asked calmly.
“I was hoping that your initial silence meant you would be smarter.” Finn shook his head like he was disappointed. Soren glared. “It seems you and your friend both err on the side of feigned ignorance. Shame for you that Ambrose didn’t stick to that policy.”
“I will not fall for foolish tricks,” Soren sneered. “Why should I believe you have spoken to Ambrose at all? Or, if you did, that he told you anything?”
“Perhaps a word from your beloved would sway you, instead?” Finn mused.
Soren scoffed. “Now I know you are lying. Calypsia would not speak against me, much less to you.”
“Is that so?” Finn’s smirk grew more devious as he reached inside his coat. He pulled out a gold ring with a sapphire and pearl nestled in it.
Soren’s face turned red. He jerked against the ropes.
“What have you done with her?!” He thrashed some more while Finn toyed with the ring. “Leave her be—she has nothing to do with this!”
“This?” Castien questioned with a calm raise of his brow.
Soren snarled his answer. “Kalyxi.”
Castien’s jaw clenched. He remembered all the times he had called Wren by her surname in jest. Hearing Soren say it was like acid on Castien’s skin.
“Elaborate, or else we’ll take Ambrose at his word,” Finn said, then squeezed the ring in his fist. “And he says Calypsia was involved.”
Soren shook with rage. Castien looked at Wren.
She hadn’t pulled her hood back up. There was a sheen of perspiration on her skin.
He clenched his hands into fists. She was pushing herself too much.
Castien struggled to keep his mind clear and concern for her at bay. His Gift flickered under the strain.
“Ambrose is a liar,” Soren spat.
“Funny, he said the same thing about you,” Finn said calmly. “Why should we believe you over him?”
“Because I’m going to do what he didn’t,” Soren replied, his tone low and deadly.
“And what’s that? Refrain from begging for your life?” Finn drolled.
“No.” Soren’s gaze shifted to Wren. Castien’s hand went to his sword. “I’m going to confess.”