Chapter 22 Interrogation
Interrogation
The Nine of Wands often represents the last stand, a line drawn in the sands as the weight of trials and tribulations press down. Success must come at a cost, with the scars to prove it.
THE BOILER IS a small outlying building located close to the volcano.
It’s a grim, miserable place, swelling with blistering heat, and it’s built like a dungeon.
The walls are made of granite stone and concrete, lined with chains and cuffs that make my skin crawl.
Every cell contains one of tonight’s attackers, transported directly here by Draven.
He and I stand in a boxy room connected to a private cell, watching Kasper through a window. He’s strapped to a chair, his skin chafing from the steel.
I told Draven all about my suspicions that Kasper wanted to be Selected. How he watched me, nearly regretfully, when Morgan imitated Draven and led me up those stairs. I don’t know how much he knew, but I intend to find out.
The raven tattoo against my forearm prickles like acid.
“We need him to admit whatever he knows,” Draven states, eyes sweeping over me in a brush of frustration. “We have others to question.”
“Could you just use the High Priestess to dig around his head a bit?”
“I tried on the way here, but he has a mental shield in place.” Draven’s lip curls and he shakes his head.
“He’s chosen by the High Priestess Arcana, and one of the very first things they learn is mental shielding.
He’s unusually talented. And even though I have more training, it’s not like reading a book.
I could push … but those obstinate shields might require breaking your friend permanently. And what if he has no involvement?”
He side-eyes me, as if daring me to say it’s okay, but I begrudgingly shake my head, thinking of Ember. “Right, well, we can’t do that to him.”
Draven’s arms cross, the angry detachment in his gaze more worrying than the anger that flared before.
He clears his throat. “You used to gather intelligence for a living. Any ideas?” He’s never looked at me so critically before.
My ribs tighten, my stomach growing nauseous.
I need to prove myself. I cannot find my family without his trust.
But there’s more to it than that.
I want him to trust me.
“Can he see us?” I gesture to the window, but Kasper has only glanced at it.
“No, it’s been transfigured by a Magician Arcana. It works only one way; the other side appears as just a wall.”
“Pull your guards.” I shift as he looks to me, eyes narrowing. “You just have to trust me.”
He looks me over, smirking slowly. “As far as I can throw you.”
Some of the tension eases from my chest, a sieve opening that lets me breathe a little more freely. I nod, and he summons the High Priestess, and the guards react as one, all of them suddenly exiting, leaving Kasper alone in that chair, more confused than ever.
I pass by Draven, steeling myself before I enter.
I fiddle with the handle, jiggling it like it’s locked, then slip inside, shutting it swiftly behind me, looking around the room as if afraid of seeing anyone else.
When I spot Kasper, I rush ahead to him.
“There you are. Thank the gods. Morgan said you’d been grabbed. ”
“He’s … he’s alive?” Kasper’s brow furrows, suspicion raging in his skittish eyes, his scrunched forehead. “You’re not a part of the Ascension.”
So, he knows the name. Who’s involved. I rush my words as I fiddle with the manacles binding his hands behind his back.
“Morgan recruited me, and I’ve been heading the operation since he got locked away.
You saw me—I wanted to get Selected for a reason, this is it.
I managed to distract the guards, but that won’t last long.
We need to get you out of here before they come back and execute you. ”
“They’re going to kill me?”
“They found letters, Ascension paraphernalia back in your room. You were sloppy.” I bluff and he jerks, looking up at me with a plea in those icy-blue eyes.
“That’s not mine. You have to talk to your boyfriend. Convince him I’m not involved—”
“My cover’s blown. Draven was just a mark.” I swallow, knowing he’s currently listening and watching this whole performance. But he’ll know why I said it.
“Why are you helping me at all?” Kasper shakes his head, watching me over his shoulder as I pull a thin hairpin from my curls and begin to fiddle with his locks, making a show of it. “I told Morgan no. I told him it was a stupid idea.”
“You’re not with the Ascension?”
“No.”
“But you wanted to be Selected. You hate the immortals. You told Morgan you agreed with the sentiment of this plan.” I stop fiddling, like I won’t help him if he isn’t one of them. His jaw ticks, eyes searching as if he’s thinking through his options.
“Look, I’m not here for rebellion. I’m here for … someone else.” Kasper spits the words and my eyes narrow.
“Who? Draven?” I keep fiddling with his chains, never popping the lock.
“No. I don’t give a fuck about him.”
“Then who?” I lean forward, still pretending to pick his lock, but he claps his jaw shut.
“If you weren’t in on this plan, why did you give me that look when I left with Morgan?
You thought he might hurt me, and you did nothing.
Why didn’t you warn me?” The heat of the room is smothering, yet the knowledge of what Morgan did, and what worse he would’ve done, is what steals my breath.
“I … don’t know.” Kasper hangs his head, suddenly unable to look at me.
“At the Wall, you stood at the front. Near me, like you wanted to be Selected. Why? Who are you after?”
“It won’t interfere with whatever the Ascension is planning—”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” I unbind one wrist, but his other one is still manacled. I stop, crossing my arms and leering over him. “Tell me the truth or I’ll leave you to get executed.”
He turns as white as fresh snow.
“I’m looking for my father.” At least he’s capable of uttering one truth. Now I have a baseline, though it’s hard to see straight beyond my seeping rage.
“Your father? Aren’t you the son of … a countess? Your father was obnoxiously rich if I remember—”
“Stepfather,” he snarls.
I hadn’t forgotten, but it’s nice to know it’s a tender point. The more sensitive the subject, the easier the knife can slice through. “He was rich. It doesn’t mean I was.”
I grab his palms, flipping them. My own hold scars, nicks, calluses, but his are fresh as a child’s. “Your hands beg to differ.”
“He let me live there, but when my mom died, I wasn’t welcome any longer. My mother had an affair with an immortal,” Kasper confesses, tugging at the restraint.
I blink back my shock, eyes glancing at the wall Draven watches from behind. Kasper’s hair is very nearly white … like mine, but it’s so platinum it’s more silver. But his relation to immortals is more direct.
“Who is he?” I ask.
“All I know is he was important enough to be in a vanguard of immortals sent to broker peace during the War. She didn’t exactly elaborate. Wanted to pass me off as being the Lord of Shadowfell, though he never bought it. I thought … maybe he was a druid, she mentioned he had wings.”
“You risked being Selected on the off chance you’d find your father?”
“Sound familiar?” Kasper raises a brow.
“My situation is a little different. I knew who my father was—”
“You sure about that?” he snarls. “Your dad seemed pretty cozy with the seraph princess. Heard he’s the right hand to the seraph king.”
I tilt my head, reading him over. “It’s really obvious when you’re trying to buy yourself time, you know?”
Kasper startles, shifting uncomfortably.
“And you don’t know anything of more value, do you?”
He looks quickly off to his right, as if searching his mind for some answer.
But I already can tell he doesn’t have one.
Draven steps inside the cell and Kasper’s gaze goes wide, his pupils pinpricks. He looks back and forth between us and breathes, “I wasn’t involved with this. I’ve got nothing to do with her.”
“I heard.” Draven turns to me. “Do you believe him?”
I sigh but nod reluctantly. Kasper came here for an ulterior motive, the same as me, but it has nothing to do with the Ascension, even though he knew about it.
Draven draws forth the World, then summons the Hierophant to the front, walking the memories of this questioning back, erasing them from existence.
Afterward he draws the Emperor, and the last cuff releases, allowing Kasper to go free.
Draven brings the Hierophant back to the forefront, and tells him commandingly, “You didn’t have a good time at the party. You chose to go home early.”
“The party wasn’t fun. I’m going to go home.” Kasper repeats the sentence blankly, as if he’s half awake. He stands up and walks out of the room, the same dissociated look haunting his eye.
His departure leaves Draven and I alone.
The tension strung between us is nearly painful. My attention flits to the wall, and I know guards could be behind it. “Was getting him to confess a test for me?”
“Yes and no.” Draven shirks his jacket off, displaying all those strong muscles pressing against the fabric of his shirt. He follows my look. “We’re alone. I sent them to interrogate the others.”
“But you still have questions for me.” I sit in the chair Kasper vacated and he rolls his eyes. It burns my skin, uncomfortable though not intolerable. But I might as well be in the right seat if I’m about to be grilled next.
“I did want to see you put your Wraith skills to the test.” He clenches his jaw, glancing to the walls as if it’s easier than looking at me. “But I want you. You know that. You used it to make a fool of me.”