26. Zai
Zai
Five days had crawled past, and the prisoners remained unbroken.
The dark-haired woman, Ravena, slumped in the chair before me. Fresh straps dug into her wrists, binding her hands together.
Every time we’d dragged her companions away, her screams had echoed through the hull.
When we’d returned them with fresh burns blistering across their bodies, tears had carved clean tracks down her dirt-smudged cheeks.
But each time I’d demanded answers to my questions, her lips had sealed tight, and she’d glared at me with hatred burning in her tear-filled eyes.
I’d finally decided to let her suffer a torture session herself, so she’d understand what her friends were going through.
Flint circled her, twirling flames between his fingers. The orange glow painted shifting shadows across her clenched jaw.
Tuning into her heat signature, I stepped in front of her. “What will it be?” My voice came out flat. “Tell us where the Dual Wielder’s headed, or face Flint’s fury.”
She spat at my feet.
Flint smirked. “Flint’s fury, eh? Like the sound o’ that.”
He pressed a searing palm to her arm. A hoarse wheeze escaped her, but she didn’t scream. Didn’t beg. The stench of burning flesh filled my nostrils.
I grabbed the water bottle from a nearby crate and doused her blistering skin. She gasped, her whole body trembling.
Frustration coiled tight in my chest. Father and Val had been so smug about using prisoners against each other, but this wasn’t working.
Maybe she had to watch.
The thought struck with cold clarity. She had to be there when we tortured the others. Why hadn’t I thought of that before?
Because I was too cracking soft, that’s why.
“Flint.” I jerked my head toward the cell door. “Get the man.”
Understanding flickered across his scarred features. He nodded and crossed to the door, key scraping in the lock.
Rika, the fiercer of them, would no doubt swallow any pain and shout encouragement through bloodied lips. But the man’s frailty was exactly what we needed to crack Ravena’s resolve. We would turn her compassion against her.
Flint hauled the gray-faced prisoner out. The man stumbled, barely keeping his feet. Behind them, Rika surged forward, metal bindings clanking.
“You hurt him and I’ll—”
Flint slammed the door in her face.
I turned back to Ravena. “Tell us where the Dual Wielder is headed, and I’ll release all three of you.”
Her gaze darted to her injured companion, then back to me, fear flickering in her expression. “You’ll let us go?”
A smile crept across my lips. “You have my word. But if you refuse…” I nodded at Flint.
He gave the man a shove, sending him crumpling onto his back at the woman’s feet.
Barely conscious, he blinked up at her, sweat trickling down his temples. “Ravena, don’t…” The words faded into a weak mumble.
Flames erupted from my palms, bright and hungry.
Sheer terror glistened in her eyes, but she shook her head, quick and jerky. “You’re lying! You’ll never let us go.”
With a sigh, I poured molten heat onto the man’s chest. Broken screams tore from his throat, his back arching. The stench of charred flesh thickened the already stifling air.
“No! Mekor!” Her cry cut through his screams, her face twisted into an ugly mask of anguish and despair.
Her body temperature shifted, draining from her face and pooling in her chest.
I forced my expression to stay blank. “You can stop this. Just answer my question.”
Mekor’s raspy screams faded into agonized wheezing as I flared more heat across his chest.
“They’re heading into the Sun Kingdom!” She gasped the words between ragged breaths, but her body temperature spiked, radiating from her flushed face.
“You’re lying.” I let the heat trail up Mekor’s throat. His wheezing turned to weak croaks.
“Stop!” She lurched forward, struggling against her bindings. “Please!”
“Only you can stop this.”
“Brookfalls!” The name burst from her lips, hoarse and desperate. Her heat signature softened into something resigned. Defeated. “He’s going to Brookfalls.”
I cut the heat, studying her hollowed face. “Why?”
Her words tumbled out between sobs. “He’s meeting a woman there. She’s supposed to teach him to master his sun powers.”
“What!” My eyebrows shot up. “How?”
Her shoulders shook. “She’s a sun wielder.”
Disgust twisted in my gut. A traitor living in moon territory. Of course.
And the Dual Wielder seeking her out made perfect sense. He clearly lacked control of his powers. If he trained with a sun wielder, who knew what destructive heights his abilities might reach?
My gaze cut to Flint. “She’s telling the truth.”
His brow furrowed. “How d’you know?”
“Heat signatures. Don’t you track them?”
He scratched the back of his neck. “Heard of it bein’ done in battles, aye. Never knew you could use it to sniff out a liar, though.”
I gave him a doubtful look, my thoughts drifting back to my years in the palace.
Tracking mood through heat wasn’t something I’d been taught. Not by Mother. Certainly not by Master Karex. I’d developed the skill myself.
For years, I’d used heat magic to sense more than just the training area. I’d tracked the flush crawling up council members’ necks when their patience frayed. The heat draining from servants who expected punishment. The warmth blooming on a person’s face when they grew uncomfortable.
The nuances were small, but I’d learned to tell the difference.
I shrugged. “It’s not that difficult. You just need to know what you’re looking for.”
“Not that difficult, aye?” Flint smirked, shaking his head. “Anyway, we’d best tell the Capt’n ‘bout this an’ get ourselves aimed toward Brookfalls.” His gaze dropped to the prisoners. “What d’you reckon we do with these sorry bastards?”
My jaw tensed as I glared at the two broken souls. I’d promised to release them. But letting them run back to their Queen with everything they’d learned? I couldn’t allow that.
The word ruthless slithered through my mind as cold resolve settled in my chest.
My gaze fixed on the woman. “They need to die.”
Her eyes widened. “You said you’d let us go!”
“I lied.”
Something twisted inside me, fighting my every movement. I sealed it tight and buried it deep, repeating ruthless as a mantra to drown out the voices urging me to stop.
Ruthless. I yanked my knife from my belt and plunged it into her throat. She hissed and gurgled before sagging in the chair. Dead.
Ruthless. I wrenched the knife out, blood splattering across her lap and over the half-conscious man at her feet.
“No…” He lifted a hand, reaching for her.
Ruthless. Planting my feet on either side of his body, I stabbed the knife into his heart. His eyes rolled back and his hand fell limp.
I pushed past the nausea and focused on the flicker of relief sparking inside. It was over. No more soul-shattering torture. And now I knew where the Dual Wielder was.
My relief flared into excitement. I had him. And I wouldn’t let him slip away again.
My gaze found Flint. His stern eyes studied me, grim and quiet—not with accusation, not respect either—but understanding.
I nodded at the door holding the remaining prisoner. He unlocked it and swung it open.
Rika’s eyes widened at the sight of my bloody knife.
“What have you done?” she hissed, tilting her head, trying to see past me.
Without a word, I stalked inside, gripping my knife tight.
Ruthless.