81. Ayres
Ayres forced himself to take a deep, slow breath.
He was going to kill the Guardian.
He stared up at her as she sat on her throne above. He could feel the outline of her soul so clearly, and with one gentle tug he could pull it out of her flesh and send her down the bridge. It would take him less than three seconds.
They now stood in the Great Hall, side by side. Rorax trembled slightly next to him, and he suddenly remembered why he couldn’t just pluck away the Guardian’s life. The Guardian was the anchor of the Contestars’ fledgling power. A Guardian dying before their power was properly transferred had never happened before. It was untested and uncertain, and there was a chance the Guardian’s death would kill Rorax, would kill all the Contestars, and that was a gamble he wasn’t willing to take.
The Guardian eyed Rorax; both distrust and disgust were clear in her face as she pursed her lips. “We need to know why you aren’t manifesting any abilities, Greywood.”
Rorax shook her head, taking a careful step forward. “I don’t know. I have tried, and I’ve searched in my head, but there is nothing. I can’t feel anything.”
The Guardian’s lips pursed together even more. “Fine. Try and keep your secrets, Greywood. It will be more satisfying to pry them out of you.”
The Guardian turned around and nodded to Lamonte who stood by the door.
Lamonte opened it wide, and Tressa came in, her head held high.
Memories of the last time he had seen a Mind Walker work made his chest tight with horror. During the War of the Slaves, he had a Mind Walker in his unit, and the Mind Walker had men and women from Umber screaming, crying, and writhing on the floor, begging for the Mind Walker to leave their heads. That Mind Walker had been precise and lethal, knew exactly which synapses and parts of the mind to investigate and control.
Tressa was a novice, a fledgling Mind Walker who was untrained, untested, and untalented in that art.
“No.” The growl that erupted from Ayres was so harsh even Rorax flinched away slightly. He whipped his head back to face the Guardian. “You’re a godsdamned fool if you think I would let you do this.”
The Guardian gave him a bored look and an exasperated sigh. “I don’t need your permission, Lieutenant, to investigate a Contestar who might not be fit for the Choosing.”
Ayres felt slightly panicked as he whipped his head back to Tressa, whose gaze was zeroed in on Rorax, her eyes burning with an intent that unsettled his stomach. If she wasn’t careful, Tressa could sever synapses and cause irreparable damage. The look on her face made him think that damage may be her goal.
Ren had slipped into the hall behind Tressa and shot Ayres a warning look when he saw the fury in Ayres’s face. Ayres snarled, baring his teeth at his old friend in his own warning.
Rorax looked between the Guardian and Ayres, then to Tressa and Ren, her eyes narrowing. “What is going on?”
Tressa stopped a few feet in front of Rorax, her face triumphant. Her long, black braids swayed across the fabric of her black dress, and Ayres had an urge to grab them in a fist and use them to haul her as far away from Rorax as he could.
“I am not only the High Healer of the Northern Castle but also a Mind Walker,” Tressa said, her chin lifting a fraction of an inch. “I’m going to search your mind to find out why you haven’t manifested any of your abilities yet.”
The color in Rorax’s cheeks drained but she remained still, not showing any indication she was unsteady or scared. Brave little fool.
”Fine, but I want him gone.” Ayres pointed at Niels, who was watching all of this unfold with a smug smile on his face. The fucking worm.
The Guardian sighed and flicked her wrist. ”Fine. Guards, please remove the Emissary of Alloy from the hall.”
Niels didn”t bother to protest, he still had that triumphant look on his face, and Ayres knew Niels wouldn”t be far away. No, Niels would linger closely, hoping for the chance to hear Rorax screaming.
“Ayres, hold her arms down,” the Guardian called.
Tressa shook her head. “No, I want her lying down.”
The Guardian just nodded and waved her hand out, indicating that there on the cold stones was as fine a place as any to search Rorax’s mind.
“Can we at least go to her chambers, to her bed—” Ayres started, but the Guardian cut him off.
“No, we are doing this here and now. Get on your back, Greywood.”
Rorax shot a look of such cold disregard and hatred at the Guardian, it would have sent terror down the spine of anyone else.
She slowly lowered herself to her knees, and then to her bottom before she laid out on the stones.
Rorax tugged on her dress nervously. She stole a look at Ayres, that one miniscule show of vulnerability had Ayres’s teeth on edge.
“Now climb on top of her and pin her down, Ayres.”
He opened his mouth to tell her to fuck off, but she just raised an eyebrow at him. “Would you rather have another man on top of her to make sure she stays still?”
Ayres gritted his teeth, before bending down and straddling her waist, pinning her arms to her side with his knees.
Tressa came around to her head, and Rorax watched her with uncertainty.
“Ror, look at me.” Her snow-white eyes moved to him, and he tried to give her a soothing smile. “I am right here. The less you fight it, the less it hurts.”
Rorax nodded and swallowed loudly.
Tressa pressed her fingers against Rorax’s scalp, and a second later her eyes clouded over, a milky veil over her usually dark brown irises. The same veil covered Rorax’s eyes, covering the dark pupils and dark outer rings of her white eyes.
Ayres gritted his teeth, preparing himself for Rorax’s scream . . . but it never came.
Only a heavy, stifling silence thumped in the air. Tressa’s face screwed up in concentration, but Rorax’s face remained blank.
Ayres looked up at Ren, who had taken a protective stance behind Tressa. But Ren looked as confused as he was, shaking his head.
Tressa shifted on her knees, moving her face closer to Rorax’s, her fingers trembling, but nothing else changed for long minutes.
Ayres kept his mouth shut until a drop of blood started to trickle out of the inner corners of Tressa’s eyes.
“Fuck,” Ayres snapped. “Pull her away, Ren.”
Ren moved to see the bloody tears on Tressa’s face and didn’t think twice about scooping her up and pulling her up from Rorax and the stone covered ground.
Rorax’s eyes flew open, at the same time Tressa hissed in fury. “How dare you pull me out, I was still trying to find a way in.”
Ayres pushed himself off Rorax and helped her to her feet. She staggered and gripped onto his sweater to steady herself. She blinked rapidly; her eyes unfocused as she stared straight ahead into his chest.
She looked . . . dazed. The usual signs of wide-eyed, animalistic terror he had become so familiar with after a Mind Walker’s interrogations were completely absent from her features. She just looked confused.
Tressa kicked her limbs until Ren released her, reluctantly setting her down.
She immediately marched back to Rorax, but Ayres put himself between them, pulling Rorax behind him so fast she staggered.
“That’s enough,” he bit down at Tressa, who snarled back. “Tell us what happened.”
“I never found out what’s going on. I never even got in! She—” Tressa pointed a trembling finger at Rorax, “blocked me.”
A heavy silence hung in the air. Rorax gripped the back of Ayres’s sweater tighter.
“Tressa, tell us what happened. Could you feel any of the power?” the Guardian asked. Her gray eyebrows were furrowed together tightly, and she appeared just as confused as the rest of them.
Tressa ground her molars together and nodded once. “It’s there. It’s . . . buried.”
“What do you mean, buried?” Rorax rasped from over his shoulder, her voice hoarse.
Tressa’s eyes flashed at Rorax with naked contempt. “I mean, it’s . . . your power feels . . . like an underground well; it’s still buried under your wall.”
“Will she be able to access this power?” the Guardian asked. “Or will we need to eliminate her to extract it?”
Rorax’s fists clung to the fabric of Ayres’s sweater and gripped tighter. He resisted the urge to reach around and comfort her.
Ayres opened his mouth to tell the bitch she wouldn’t be eliminating even the lint from his ass, but Tressa started speaking first. “She will be able to access it . . . It feels like an underground well. You won’t see it until it reaches the surface.”
The Guardian pursed her lips. “How soon?”
Tressa shrugged, moving her eyes to Rorax, shooting daggers at her. “I don’t know, but it’s close enough to feel through her barrier. I could tell you for certain if you make her move her wall.”
Ayres bared his teeth at her, and he felt his power rumble to life in his back.
“Enough.” The Guardian stood. “I am pacified. As long as she manifests her magick by the time we’re down to the final three Contestars, Rorax will remain a Contestar in the Choosing. If she lives that long.”