Chapter 9
Chapter
Nine
“Can I say I’m against this? She should be resting.” Caden huffed in the seat next to me, motioning at me. “Or being force-fed! Look at her, Father. She looks like she’s been starved and beaten.”
Ninety minutes after stepping through the door, I was examined, pricked, prodded, bathed, conditioned, dipped in lotion, and immersed in any beauty treatment Maja could fit in. Now I found myself sitting in Istvan’s office, my body limp and exhausted from the day’s events.
“Caden.” Istvan strolled behind his desk, annoyance coating his tone. “Didn’t I say if you were to join us, you were to stay silent? You are technically still on duty. I am being generous to allow you a break from your responsibilities.”
Caden huffed again, sitting back in his chair, his hand curling over mine. He couldn’t stop touching or looking at me, as if he blinked, I would disappear again.
“Brexley.” Istvan sat down in his chair. “I can’t begin to say how good it is to have you home safe.” He said the words, but everything about him was aloof and distant, back to the man I knew. “We were quite beside ourselves thinking we had lost you.”
The door opened behind me, and one of Istvan’s assistants rolled in a tea cart: sandwiches cut into tiny triangles, scones with imported jellies and creams, teas from China and England.
He rolled the cart near me, bowing, and headed out.
A throwaway snack, which cost at least a month’s pay, if not more, for someone like Rosie.
“Please.” Istvan nodded toward the cart. “I know you must be hungry.”
I should have been. I hadn’t eaten for a while, but for some reason, my stomach rolled at the sight.
Yet I knew if I didn’t eat, the food would be tossed away, fed to the pigs and horses.
Swallowing the tightness in my throat, I grabbed a sandwich, taking a tiny bite, the soft fluffy bread sticking to the roof of my mouth and back of my throat.
“Bet that tastes like a steak dinner to you.” Caden’s touch directed my attention to him, his gaze holding pity. Maybe in Halálház it would have, but Killian had been feeding me exceptionally well the last few weeks.
I set the sandwich down, peering back at Istvan.
He watched me, his icy blue eyes trying to peel through my layers, seek every morsel he could against his enemy.
“What happened, Brexley? How did you survive? Where have you been?”
Shifting in my seat, a weight came down on my chest. I couldn’t even describe why a barricade popped up in my mind. I gritted my teeth together, selecting the information I would tell him.
You tell him everything. What is wrong with you? The logical part of my brain tried to unknot my tongue. You are back home with your people. You give them everything you can against the fae.
“Start from the night on the bridge.” Istvan leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled, waiting for me to tell him the story. “Where were you taken?”
The bread lumped in my gut, feeling like the yeast was expanding around my lungs, forcing out the oxygen.
“Father . . .” Caden sat up, noticing my response, his hand covering mine.
“She needs to tell us, Caden. She is a soldier first. I would ask the same from you.” He leaned forward. “Brexley . . . ?”
I nodded, sucking in. “I was taken to Halálház.”
Halálház was more than a place; it was a presence that lingered inside me. It marked me. Changed me. It was my past, present, and future. A nightmare and my reality. Long ago, but so vivid I could taste the sour stench of blood, sweat, and feces.
Both men jolted, frozen with the same violent movement, as if I had laid a bomb on the desk.
“What?” Caden’s mouth parted in horror and shock.
“Halálház?” Istvan hissed, pushing up to standing, his eyes locked onto me.
“No one survives that place.” Caden still gaped at me, his head shaking. “I don’t understand? How did you get out?”
“Where. Is. It?” Istvan leaned over the desk, his voice strained.
The strange urge to clamp my mouth together caused my jaw to ache. Halálház had stolen my humanity, tortured me, made me play a game to the death, forced me to murder a comrade, and I still fought the urge to keep it from them.
What is wrong with you? You are home, back with your family and humans. You should be giving them every morsel you can.
Halálház was gone anyway, being rebuilt in a new location; my information would not help Istvan anymore.
“The Citadel.” I clutched my hands together. “It was built into the mountain.”
“The Citadel?” Caden bolted up, knocking over his chair. “You mean right across the river from us?” He motioned dramatically in the direction. “It’s been right there the whole time.”
Istvan watched me, his gaze tearing into me, as though trying to see the full truth of my claim underneath. “There was an explosion up there about a month ago.” He was calm, but an almost accusatory tone laced the statement.
“Yes.” I nodded. “That was when I escaped.”
“A month ago? Where have you been since?”
Caden put his hand on my arm.
“Don’t mention me. You’ve never seen or heard of me.” As if Warwick was sitting next to me, I could hear his demand, my throat closing on itself as if he cursed me.
“I-I had to go into hiding.” I lifted my chin, staring bolding back at Istvan. “They, of course, were looking for me because of who I was. It took me this long to get back.”
Istvan’s scrutiny did not relent, his face a mask of stone.
Only a slight twitch of his eye suggested he didn’t fully buy my story.
Lying to someone like Istvan was putting enough truth in the details to make it sound real, but not so much you’d trip yourself up.
HDF taught us this in training, in case we were caught by our enemies.
“I’m curious about who bombed it and why.” He tapped on the wood. “Who would have the knowledge of its location and also the ability to blow it up?” Every word of his sounded more like an accusation than a question. “Who has the power and money to attack the fae lord?”
I stayed silent, keeping my face blank. Though I didn’t know the answer, I knew someone who might.
“Father, you’ve heard rumblings of a rebel gang in the Savage Lands.”
Istvan’s head shot to his son, his glower telling him to shut up.
“The Sarkis Army? They are nothing more than a bunch of half-breed hooligans. They could not do this.” He wagged his head.
“This took planning, money, intelligence, and precision. They are just a few dumb ruffians in the Savage Lands. The only rebels who have the power to do something like this would be the Povstat Militia from Prague.”
The revolutionary group, Povstat, based in Prague, had grown big enough to become notorious and feared in the Czech Republic, their fame spreading to surrounding countries.
Their leader, called Kapitan, spurred them to be more “radical” in their approach.
Using violence in the fight against both the human and fae leaders.
“The Povstat?” Caden rubbed his jaw. “But why would they care about Budapest?”
“Who knows why these lowlifes do anything. More power.” Istvan snarled, flipping his gaze back on me. “Please, Brexley, tell me everything about Halálház.”
Caden grunted low, pacing, ignoring his father.
“I can’t believe it’s been this close the whole time.
Directly in front of us. That fucking vile fae lord was rubbing our noses in it.
Probably prancing around, gloating about how stupid humans were.
I want to kill him, stab him in the heart, and watch him bleed out . . . while I laugh.”
“He hasn’t even given you a thought,” I snapped, my mouth replying before my brain could warn me to shut up. A suspicious icy silence ballooned in the air. “Or at least I’d figure.” My teeth sawed together. “You know fae put themselves far above humans.”
Caden scoffed in agreement with me, the stiffness leaking out of the room.
“Halálház is destroyed now. Any human prisoner who was left behind either perished or would have returned home. There is no point in attacking it now.” Or ever. Killian wasn’t rebuilding it there.
“Did you . . .” Caden shifted on his feet, his head bowing. “Did you see Aron there? He was captured. I figured that was where they took him.”
“Brexley! No! Pleas—” The splatter of his warm blood across my face, the sickening sound of the spike tearing into his throat.
I looked to the side, my lungs grappling for air, hearing and seeing his murder with perfect clarity.
“Brex?”
“I did.” I nodded, swallowing back a knot of emotion. Enough truth to sell the story. “He didn’t make it.”
Because of me.
“Fuck!” Caden swiveled around, slamming his fist into a bookshelf. “It should have been me . . . not him.”
“Aron was a less-than-par fighter and soldier. He was reckless, arrogant, and compulsive. His death was inevitable,” Istvan replied coldly.
I stared at him. Aron could be a jerk, but to brush his life off so easily, as if it meant nothing?
“You look at us like we are the monsters when it’s been you humans the whole time.”
“Is that what you think of the people you’ve tested your pills on?” Once again, I spoke before thinking. “Of the fae you killed to make them?”
Istvan’s head twitched back, his nose flaring, but just as fast, confusion wrinkled his brow. “Pills? Tested? What are you speaking of?” The honesty and puzzlement in his eyes and tone crushed my outrage.
What if Killian was tricking me? Playing me for a fool the whole time. Pointing a finger at Istvan while it was him all along. Who benefited more from turning humans into mindless machines to fight against their own? Even if he had to “harvest” a few fae to do it?
No one would suspect it.
It would be the perfect weapon.
Az istenit, Brexley. You are such a gullible fool.
“What are you talking about? What pills?” Caden’s voice broke me from my thoughts. “And isn’t the more fae dead, the better?”
I shook my head “Nothing. Just rumors inside Halálház.”
Istvan kept his gaze on me, but I could not sense his emotions at all.