Hatred wells within me and I hope he sees it.
“By Dunne, must I carry all of the conversation? ‘Yes, of course I want to know,’” he says, raising his voice in mock imitation. “Well, Cadet Sorrengail, your weaknesses are the people you love. So many people to choose from. Squad Leader Matthias and the rest of your squad, your sister, your dragons.” A twisted smile curves his mouth. “Lieutenant Riorson.”
My heartbeat skips.
“Hold steady, Violet,” Liam says.
“She’s triggered,” Nora notes from the doorway.
“I know,” Varrish replies. “And I bet you’re thinking he’ll be the one who comes for you, aren’t you?” He admires the bruises on my forearm like they’re artwork. “That come Saturday, when you don’t show in Samara, he’ll come looking, even if it means violating his leave policy. You’re pinning your hopes that he’ll break the rules for you. That he’ll save you, since your own mother hasn’t lifted a finger for you.”
My throat moves even though I’m too dehydrated to swallow.
“He won’t wait until Saturday,” Liam promises.
“That’s what I’m counting on.” Varrish nods. “I waited all year for you to break a rule so I could question you under Codex. Your mom’s a real rule follower that way. But you have no idea the joy it gives me to know that Fen Riorson’s son will break Codex by abandoning his post to come to your aid, that he’ll be strapped to this chair next. And he will give me the answers I seek.”
Wait. What?
“Shit. He’s not just questioning you. He’s setting a trap for Xaden.” Liam tenses.
My heart starts to pound.
“You have so much power here, Sorrengail. You alone can save Lieutenant Riorson from what awaits him should he arrive. Tell me what I want to know, and I won’t hurt him.”
For a heartbeat, I’m tempted. The thought of Xaden being tortured makes my hand curl and my nails catch on the rough grain of the wooden slab.
“Where are you trying to ward? What are the marked ones up to?”
“Hold the line, Vi.” Liam rests his hand against my side, and gods it feels so real. “Talking would lead to the deaths of every living thing on this Continent. If they had anything on Xaden, he’d already be in custody. They’re not going to hurt him. They can’t.”
Logically, I know that, but emotionally…
“No? You’re sure? You can save him. Right here. Right now. Because I think he’ll come, and when he does, I will break him—and I’ll make you watch,” Varrish promises in a whisper. “But don’t worry. You’ll be screaming your secrets in no time. Of course, by then I won’t need them. I’ll have who I really want.”
His gaze drops to my neck, as if he can see my pulse skyrocketing.
“Ahh, you see it now, don’t you?” Varrish grins. “I’m sure you think he’s indestructible, but let me assure you, I was lucky enough to glimpse the most powerful rider of your generation fumble his shields like a novice once. It was for less than a second, but that was all I needed to see what it would take to shatter him. We’ll have all the information we need in a matter of days. You’re not the prize, Sorrengail. You’re the tool.”
Fuck him.
“Does Solas enjoy hiding?” My voice croaks, and I cough.
He blinks but quickly masks his surprise.
“Just because you’ve blocked my ability to talk to Tairn doesn’t mean he doesn’t know exactly what you’ve done to me.” My lip splits again when I force a smile. “You’re hunting Xaden. But Tairn is hunting Solas. You’re the weaker on both counts. I might die in this chamber, but I promise you will.”
“Just because I can’t kill you without losing my target doesn’t mean I won’t shatter you over and over until he arrives. We’re going to have fun, you and I.” He stands, then brushes his hands on the thighs of his uniform before walking out. I hear his faint words through the door: “Call Nolon in. We need to start fresh.”
But Varrish is wrong. Xaden won’t come. He’ll choose the safety of the revolution. I’m now one of the people he can’t save. I just have to hope that everyone is wrong, that he’ll survive my death.
“Don’t leave me,” I whisper to Liam. I don’t care that I’m far gone enough to hallucinate, that my brain is using Liam as a crutch as long as he stays, as long as I’m not alone.
“I won’t. I swear.”
…
Drip. Drip. Drip. I lose track of the hours, the beatings, the questions I refuse to answer.
Nolon visits twice, or maybe it’s three times.
Life is varying degrees of pain, but Liam never leaves. He’s there every time I open my eyes, watching, talking me through the torture, holding my sanity together while simultaneously proving it’s already left.
At least once a day, they chain me into the chair and force the serum down my throat, blocking me from Tairn. I eat the food they provide because survival matters most, and I sleep after each mending session, only to wake and be broken again and again.
My ribs are cracked thanks to a well-placed kick, and my left arm snaps in the same exact place Varrish broke it the first time, which tells me that not only am I not at full strength, Nolon isn’t, either.
“We could bring in Jack Barlowe if this doesn’t work.” Nora’s voice rises, bringing me fully awake from where I’ve dozed off in the chair. “Gods know he’s been waiting for retribution.”
“Tempting,” Varrish replies. “I’m sure he’d be happy to find new and inventive ways to motivate her, but we can’t trust him not to kill her. Can’t trust that kid for anything, really, can we? Too unpredictable.”
“Still can’t believe that fucker survived,” Liam mutters from where he stands leaned against the wall to the right of the door.
Gods, I’m sore and swollen at the broken places, and discolored on the bits of skin I can see. Everything hurts. I’m not even sure I’m me anymore as much as I am pain encased in a failing body.
But Rhiannon isn’t being put through this, or Ridoc, or Sawyer, or Imogen, or Quinn. Everyone I care about is safe. That’s what I grasp onto.
“You know, Sloane hates me,” I whisper.
“Sloane can be tough.” Liam shoots me an apologetic half smile. “You’re doing a good job.”
“Yeah, I’m a great role model.” It’s all I can do to keep from rolling my eyes.
“You asked to see me, sir? Down here? There have to be a dozen guards in the stairwell.”
That voice. Fear slides down my spine, leaving chills in its wake as Liam’s head jerks toward the door.
Dain. I’m so fucked. We all are.
“I did,” Varrish responds. “I need your help. Navarre needs your help.”
“What can I do?”
I twist against the straps that hold me captive, but their buckles hold strong. “Stay calm,” Liam whispers, like any of them can hear him.
“We had a breach of security this week, and classified documents were stolen. We caught the perpetrator and prevented the loss of intelligence, but the prisoner…” There’s a dramatic pause. “It’s blatantly obvious by connection that this rider is working with what we suspect to be a second rebellion, intent on destroying Navarre. For the safety of every civilian within our wards, I need this prisoner’s memories, wingleader. You must extract the truth, or our very way of life will be compromised.”