Page 102 of The Flame and the Forsaken

She nodded at the window. Sixty-one days then. “And sixty-one days you’ve asked me the same questions over and over, because that’s how men are taught interrogations work. You wear the person down with repetition until they give you what you’re after.”

“I have never interrogated you. I have been kinder than most of my peers would be.” He watched her. What did he see? A woman beaten? Hanging onto... what, she didn’t even know. Not her freedom, which would never be hers again. Not even Destin, whom she had no power to save. “But this has gone on long enough. This morning, right now, will be your final chance to give me the names of your cohorts. Just give metwo.I know there were more, but I’ll settle for two.”

“And when I don’t?”

“I have another way of getting what I need. But the only thing that can helpyouand your brother is your cooperation right now. If I get what I need without having to resort to extraordinary measures, I’ll free you both.”

“And what happens to my friends?” Mariel asked in challenge. She needed to hear him say it.

“They will hang,” he responded calmly. “As they should. As you should. But I find myself unable to make the order against a woman my son, for reasons I will never comprehend, loved.”

Loved. Not loves.Mariel’s pulse raced from the sudden jolt of pain. “What does free us mean? Release us so some other man can claim the catch? Run from one prison into another?”

He chortled, passing a hand around the room. “A prison? Mariel, have you ever experienced prison? True prison? Your food would be moldy and rotten, if you were fed at all. You’d pray for the gallows, for at least you’d be free of the rats who don’t wait for you to die, only to sleep, before they feast upon you. And the cold... Have you ever been cold in the Southerlands? Ask a man in prison. He won’t even have an answer, for all it will bring back.”

“And that’s what awaits me, isn’t it? If you ‘let me go,’ as you say.” She wasn’t sure why she was antagonizing him, because she had no intention on day sixty-one of giving up the names he’d asked for since day one. Even if he was good on his word to release her, she’d never give up her friends.

One thing heartening her was knowing Erran couldn’t possibly have outed Remy and Augustine, or his father would have their heads. However else her husband felt about her, he’d been good on his word. Samuel and Hamish too.

“I couldn’t ken what awaits a creature like you.” His green eyes briefly narrowed. Sometimes, it was Erran looking back at her. She hadn’t realized how closely the men resembled each other until she’d been forced to stare at the steward for so many days on end. “If it does, it will not be me or my doing which puts you there.”

She had no reason to believe him, though she did, but her belief in his word had no part in her refusal to speak. There was no freedom for her if it came at the cost of her friends, who had followedhervision,herpassion. Destin would feel the same. If not, he wouldn’t still be under house arrest, dealing with the same daily interrogations.

“Mariel.” Rylahn leaned in, offering his “be reasonable” sigh, which she’d become familiar with even before he’d locked her away. It was Erran’s sigh. It had the same light exasperation he often tried to temper when she was being wittingly unreasonable. Except when Erran did it, he was never cross for long. Tenderness wasn’t far behind. “Help me help youand Destin. Your mates will be discovered before long either way. You were never going to be able to run forever. All you’re doing is deferring the inevitable.”

“If that were true, you would not have wasted sixty-one days with me,” Mariel replied. “You’re no further along than you were two months ago. And I will nay contribute to getting you closer. Aye, no matter the cost.”

Rylahn rolled his tongue along the inside of his mouth. He glanced out the window, nodding. “I’ve been coming for sixty-one days because, despite what you’ve done, Erran was fond of you. He’s well rid of you now, and gladly, but it would still hurt him to see you swing. I’ve been trying to spare him that pain, but...” He stood abruptly and checked his pocket timekeeper. “You have until I leave this room to change your mind. First, let me tell you why you should. When I leave here, I’ll be publiclyannouncing the go-ahead of the private auction your actions delayed. The location, the properties, all of it will be tacked upon tavern walls, banks, anywhere anyone with eyes can see. Everyone who wants to know will know. Can you think of anyoneyouknow who might want this information? Who might show their faces on the day?”

Mariel’s blood cooled. It was a shrewd move for Rylahn, baiting Obsidian Sky, and two months ago, it might not have worked. But Augustine would have learned by now where Mariel and Destin were. Remy would have pulled Alessia and Magnur back in to solicit their help. They were smart enough to bide their time, but then again, a refresh of the auction might be exactly the dangling promise to smoke them out of hiding. There was an equal chance of them seeing the trap as walking into it.

“I see you understand.” Rylahn checked his timekeeper. “Your answer.”

Mariel locked his gaze and spat at his feet.

Rylahn pursed his mouth and whistled. “Aye, well at least I can look my son in the eyes and say I tried.” He spun and marched out. The air whooshed with the soft slam of the doors. Mariel flinched.

When her composure returned, Mariel rose and went to the desk to withdraw the vellum and ink that had been left for her to write her confession. Instead, she composed a letter to Erran.

There was almost no chance of it making it to him. The attendants had no reason to betray their steward to aid her.

And if it made it to him, there was even less of a chance that he would do as she asked.

More than likely, her words would hasten her demise.

Tell OS to be vigilant and trust no temptation. If you ever loved me truly, then do this one last thing for me. I release you of your obligation to me. No matter what lies your father puts in your ear, I did and do love you. The heart is incapable of lies.

Mariel folded the letter and waited for her attendant.

Erran’s eyesglossed in his mindless study of the portrait hanging above his father’s desk. The man, bedecked in the boldest, gilt admiral’s uniform he’d ever seen, was their ancestor, Drummond Rutland, who had built Goldsea Spires many years past. His statue graced their cliffside—if “graced” was even an accurate description. It was the tallest statue in the kingdom, by no small margin. Some of the mariners had dubbed it Drummond’s Cock, a shining, phallic beacon of protection that kept them from veering too close to shore.

“I will tell you what I tell you every day, son,” Rylahn said as he stormed in. His gait was heavier, more pronounced than it had been on any of the prior days Erran had sat waiting for him in his office. “She’s a criminal. Criminals have but one code of honor, and that is protecting other criminals.” He ripped his chair out from the desk but didn’t sit. His eyes closed through his slow breathing exercise.

“Today was different,” Erran noted aloud. He gripped the arms of his chair and leaned forward. “Wasn’t it?”

“Different in that we near the end.” Rylahn tapped his chest and sank onto the hard wood. “I offered her one last chance, and she threw it in my face. Two months I’ve put up with her, for you. So now we do it my way.”

Erran’s hands tightened on the chair as the room wavered. He’d had almost a season to practice the calm his father required for such conversations, but the turmoil within had no outlet. Every night before bed, he screamed into the sea, but it couldn’t come close to repairing the peace he’d felt with Mariel wrapped in his arms, safe against his heart. There was no relief from the absence of it, or the fear he would never again possess the power to save her.

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