68 Interrogation

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Colton~~

Vienna moves in front of me, bending, twisting, whirling, and shooting, all with grace—as if she were in a dance. Where Iris is a bolt of lightning when she's in combat, Vienna is the wind. I duck behind a column, catching my breath, as she takes out two Amoris, her expression drawn and focused. This is something she has to get through, but for Iris, she's always looked most at place within a battle. It's where she comes to life.

Two women, both raised as rebels, but different.

Erik cuts past me, his elbow slamming into the nose of an Amoris with a crunch. I fire at the Amoris with my gun before he can retaliate against Erik. The male clutches his arm, swearing in Amorian. A kick to the back of his legs from Erik sends the Amorian splaying on the ground. My cousin shoots him with a tranquilizer.

He'll be out in minutes.

"Clear," Vienna calls from the end of the room in the alcove of a hallway.

She tightens her ponytail as we catch up with her. "I know our orders are to find alternate exits, but are we really letting Jonas find her on his own? The two of them . . . aren't like us."

Erik uses this short pause to reload his guns. "They could be anywhere. And as you said, they aren't our orders."

She turns to me. "He's your brother."

"We have no idea where Iris is being held, and we have no idea where the other exits are. I don't think we'll be the ones making the decision of what we do."

She rolls her eyes. "Right. Let's leave it all up to fate."

"We could always ask," Erik says, still reloading his guns. "I'm sure we can be convincing."

I rub at the bridge of my nose. "I don't believe you were ever skilled in interrogation." I pull my hand away to find blood, and I don't know who it belongs to—if it's even mine.

He shrugs. "I was thinking we just go all in on the torture."

I give him a long look.

"Oh I'm sorry." He gives a merciless grin. "If you'd prefer to do it . . . I don't want to step on any toes."

"We're not—"

He heads off down the hallway. "Then we let your brother die. I'm sure Preeminence will suit you."

Vienna gives me a worried glance before following Erik.

I swear. "Fine."

*****

Erik and Vienna pin the struggling Amorian man to the floor of the chambers to which we dragged him. The bed is unmade, and there's fruit sitting out on a small table. I'm sure our arrival from above dragged many from sleep.

I stand over the three of them, the flat of my knife's blade lying across my palm. "Where is the Raggioet being kept?" I crouch down beside his hand. I never wanted Vienna to witness me performing an interrogation. At the Society, I'm in charge of torturing rebels for information, but Vienna wasn't supposed to see into that world.

Especially not after I learned she was a rebel. She wasn't supposed to see what I do to her kind.

Sneering, the man grits his blood-coated teeth.

I give him a long-suffering look. They never make it easy, do they?

I drive the knife into his palm. Blood splatters against Vienna. He screams.

Erik sends a glance at the door we barricaded with a dresser.

I leave the knife in place, my fingers resting lightly on the handle. The Amorian breathes heavily, and raising my eyebrows, I wait. Those purple eyes of his meet mine, and I twist the blade.

Vienna looks away, though of course it doesn't do anything to block out the noises that come from his throat.

"Is she alive?" I keep my hand on the knife.

"Ol." Yes.

I brush the back of my fingers down his arm. "See, that wasn't so hard." Withdrawing the knife, I examine the blood glistening against the silver blade. "Where is she then?"

He presses his lips together.

"Mouth feeling a bit dry?" I hold the blade over his mouth. "Is she down here or has Odette moved her?" Two droplets of blood fall from the knife and land on his lips, coating the chapped skin. "Does that help?" I tilt the knife downward so that the blood rushes to the tip. "There's more if you need it."

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

His lips part slightly, and blood slips through the crack to join the rest of the blood that is already there.

"I'd really prefer it if you'd talk. I don't feel like cutting off any extremities."

He swallows.

I drag the knife down his shirt.

Down.

Down—

"She's still here."

I pull the knife away. "And where might she be?"

His lips clamp shut again.

"My cousin? The Digamma? Where is he?"

The man manages to grin. "He's our Delta."

I blink, and it takes all of my concentration not to let my surprise show. Bently the Delta? Bently has his reasons for everything he does, but they aren't always reasons I like. And unfortunately, betraying us for a higher position sounds exactly like a move he would pull.

"If you're only here to get her back for your Preeminence, you're too late. She's moved on."

"With who?" Erik asks, his voice sharp, and I send him a glare to be quiet.

"Our Delta. I saw it with my own eyes. Almost all of Odette's inner court did."

"What did you see?" Erik's amber eyes are as cold as ice.

"She was in his lap. His hands were all over her, like her lips were on him."

I know my shock shows on my face. I can't help it, not with the image those words conjure up. I knew they were close, but they wouldn't . . . She wouldn't . . . There's another story here. There has to be.

"Are you sure the Society wants that whore back?"

Erik looks as if he's been slapped—as if the words have another layer for him.

I grab the man's ruined hand, stretching it out by his fingers. "In the future, kindly refrain from referring to my sister in such a manner." I bring the knife down on his pinky, severing it.

A part of me relishes in his scream.

Vienna turns her head away again.

"Now that we've gotten that out of the way, where is my sister?"

*****

Erik holds his gun against the back of the gagged Amoris, forcing him to walk with us. Clutching his hand, he puts pressure where his finger once was. Blood seeps through the cracks between his fingers and drips to the floor.

Vienna and I keep ahead, checking the corridors for any of Odette's Amoris, making sure the man doesn't lead us into a trap. She checks the crossroads of the hallway, gun at the ready, and pulls back, pressing her back against the wall and a finger to her lips.

My own back against the stone wall, I inch closer to her as she readjusts her grip on her handgun. Taking a deep breath, she lurches around the corner, her gun raised, and my heart stops.

She doesn't fire.

Instead her shoulders sag, and she lowers her gun. "Gwen, Alastair, what happened?"

"It's nothing." My sister appears around the corner, clutching her right arm, Alastair at her side. They didn't come down into the catacombs together.

"It's not nothing," he says as they step into the cover of our hallway. "She thinks she sprained it." His eyes land on our prisoner and then his bloody hand. "You've been busy."

Erik taps the gun against the male's back. "He's taking us to Jonas's fiancée."

"I do know her name."

"But you don't know her."

Gwen and Alastair share a look that can only be described as confused before Gwen says, "We're hunting down any of Odette's followers that are hiding." My eyes go to her arm. "I can fight with my left."

"I don't doubt you can."

Her eyes narrow at me, and Alastair says to her in Amorian, "Do you think you can still protect me, or will I have to start doing that?" There's mirth in his eyes

And heaven help us, she rolls her eyes at the heir. "You were the one who saved me." She looks at us. "I got shoved to the ground. It's how this happened." She lifts her arm slightly. "I was struggling to get up, but I was too slow. I would have been shot if he hadn't been there."

There's a lump in my throat as I meet Alastair's eyes. "Thank you."

He nods and turns to my sister. "We can keep going or we can join them."

Gwen's silent as she studies all of us, her blue eyes like a sapphire in the light of the torches. "Bently and Iris may be heavily guarded. We'll come with you."

And that's that.

As we follow the grunts and head nods of the Amoris, Gwen slips into step beside me. "You cut off a finger?"

"Yes."

She grins. "Have I ever mentioned I love you?"

I pretend to ponder her question. "Not that I can recall."

She looks back over her shoulder at the Amoris. "Lead us in the wrong direction, and I'll make sure you lose more than a finger."

Alastair glances back at us, blanching.

"That's why she's our Tresais," I tell him.

Alastair's eyes are on her when he says, "For many other reasons as well, I'm sure."

"If Amoria had denied our request to make her Tresais, I'm certain our Preeminence would have gone ahead and inducted her."

His gaze sharpens at the challenge in my words, but he's silent for a long time, even after he looks forward, focusing on the path ahead. It's not until minutes have started to go by that he says, his voice low, "As he should have."



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