No matter what happens in this room, they can’t change the fact that Xaden got out with Warrick’s journal. Brennan will have what he needs to raise Aretia’s wards. Whatever agony Varrish has planned will be worth it.
Violence, remember it’s only the body that’s fragile. You are unbreakable. I cling to Xaden’s words.
“I’ll call you when you’re needed,” Varrish promises, waving Nolon off.
When he’s needed to mend me.
“Don’t worry. I’ll start small,” Varrish tells me. “And you have all the power here, Cadet Sorrengail. This stops as soon as you talk.”
I cry out when he dislocates the first finger.
Then scream when he breaks it.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
I pretend the sound is rain against my window, pretend the hard, unforgiving wood under my cheek is Xaden’s chest, that the arm bent at an unnatural angle in front of me, throbbing in time with my pulse, belongs to someone else.
“Sleep if you can.” The suggestion is soft, the voice so achingly familiar that I squeeze my undamaged eye shut.
You’re not really here. You’re a hallucination from pain and dehydration. A mirage.
“Maybe,” Liam says, and I open my eye just enough to see him sit on the floor beside me. He pulls his knees up, resting his elbow on the side of the bunk just beneath my fractured arm. “Or maybe Malek sent me as a kindness.”
Malek doesn’t do kindness. Nor does he allow souls to wander about. Kudos to my brain; he’s an excellent hallucination. He looks exactly as he had the last time I saw him, dressed in flight leathers and wearing a smile that makes my heart ache.
“I’m not wandering, Violet. I’m exactly where I need to be.”
Everything hurts. Unending pain threatens to pull me into the blackness again, but unlike the last two times, I fight to stay conscious. It’s the first moment I’ve been alone in hours, and I no longer fear the chair in the middle of the room.
Now I know more bones break when Varrish takes me out of it.
“I know,” Liam says gently. “But you’re staying strong. I’m so proud of you.”
Of course that’s what my subconscious would say—exactly what I need to hear.
I run my tongue over the split in my lip and taste blood. Varrish hasn’t taken a blade to me, but my skin has split from his blows in so many places that I feel like one giant, open wound. The last time I moved, my uniform crunched from dried blood.
“Bring in her squad,” Nora suggests from the antechamber. “She’ll break as soon as you start on them.”
Liam’s jaw flexes, and fear knots my empty stomach.
“She didn’t during assessment,” Varrish responds. Gods, I wish I didn’t know his voice. “And bringing them in means they’ll know what’s happened, and given the relic winding around Imogen Cardulo’s arm, I doubt she’ll be willing to wipe their memories. Killing them presents an entirely different set of issues, too. You’re sure none of the cadets have hand injuries?”
“I inspected them all myself,” Nora replies. “Devera and Emetterio are asking where she is, as is the rest of her squad. She’s missed class today.”
It’s Monday.
I reach for Tairn, but the bond is still fogged. Right, because they forced that solution down my throat once again between shattering my arm and snapping my ankle. He didn’t even have to take off my boots to make that happen.
But it’s only my body they’ve broken. I haven’t spoken a single word.
“That means you’ve been here two days,” Liam says.
It will be another five before Xaden realizes I’m missing. No doubt they’re monitoring correspondence to make sure someone doesn’t alert him. He can’t react, Liam. If he does, he’ll risk everything.
“You think he’s not already losing his shit?” A corner of Liam’s mouth rises into the cocky smirk I’ve missed so much. “I’d bet he already knows. Sgaeyl will have felt Tairn’s panic. That dragon of yours might not be able to reach you this deep under Basgiath, but Xaden’s going to rip this place apart brick by brick. You just have to survive.”
He can’t risk the movement. He won’t. Xaden’s priorities have always been clear, and damn if that’s not one of the things I love about him.
“He will.”
The door opens, but I don’t have the energy or the ability to rise, to turn my head or even lift a hand. My heart jumps, pounding like it sees the chance to flee this hellscape of a body. I don’t know how to tell it that Mira’s armor will keep it safe long after it wishes it could just stop.
Varrish lowers himself to my eye level, no more than a foot away from Liam. “You must be in so much pain. It can all stop. Maybe Nolon was right. Let’s forget how you stole the book. You’re clearly not going to give up your accomplices. But I need to know why. Why would you need a journal from one of the First Six? I’ve been reading it. Interesting history. What are you trying to ward, Sorrengail?”
He waits, but I keep my words to myself. He’s way too fucking close.
“We could just stop dancing around each other and have a true discussion,”
he offers. “Surely you have questions I could answer about why it is we don’t involve ourselves in Poromish issues. Is that what this is? Righteous indignation? We could have an equal exchange of information, since we both know it wasn’t gryphons that killed your friend’s dragon.”
I startle, and pain washes over me, fresh and violent.
“Don’t fall for it.” Liam shakes his head. “You know he’s trying to play you.”
“But how much do you know?” Varrish asks softly, like it’s a kindness. “And what have you been doing with the marked ones? We’ve been watching them for years, of course, but until Cadet Aetos gave you up, all we’d had to go on was speculation. But then you didn’t come back to Basgiath. No outposts reported you seeking a healer. So, I’m going to rephrase my earlier question. Where did you go, Cadet Sorrengail? Where are you trying to ward?”
This is so much bigger than me stealing the book.
“Gods, you’re good. Or you’re in too much pain to react.” Varrish tilts his head, reminding me of an owl as he studies me. “Do you know what my signet is, Cadet Sorrengail? Why it is I’m so good in this room? It’s classified, but we’re all friends here, aren’t we?”
I stare at him but don’t reply.
“I don’t see people.” He tilts his head and studies me. “I see their weaknesses. It’s a great advantage in battle. Honestly, you surprised me when we met. From everything I’d heard about the youngest Sorrengail, I expected to look at you and see pain, broken bones, or maybe shame for never living up to Mom’s expectations.” He skims his finger over the obvious break in my forearm but doesn’t apply pressure. The threat is enough to make my chest tighten. “But I saw…nothing. Someone taught you to shield, and I’ll admit you’re very good at it.” He leans closer. “Do you want to know what I see now that we’ve cut you off from your power?”