Page 125 of Ash and Feather

Cillian blinked rapidly as I stalked closer, trying to find my face in the sudden onslaught of light and shadows.

“She disappeared in the chaos at Mindoth,” I informed him.

“Many were lost in that chaos.”

“She didn’t get lost. She was taken. By one ofyourallies.”

He leaned more fully against the wall, dragging the shackles binding his wrists and ankles into view. The sound of scraping metal echoed in the emptiness around us.

“You must have at least some idea of where they could have taken her. And why.”

A shuddering breath slipped through his parched lips. “The whyis obvious enough, isn’t it?” he muttered.

I narrowed my gaze, silently ordering him to keep speaking.

“She’s a threat.”

“Why? Because she’s found favor with the gods, whereas most of your kind continue to do all they can to stoke the hostility between us?”

“Most of our leaders see her as a traitor. One who might be able to convince too many of us to stop fighting for power and status. A few have held out hope that we might be able to turn her back to our side—myself, Andrel, her sister—but others grow tired of the wrinkles she’s put in our plans. Her sister wanted a chance to prove that Karys was still loyal to us. So when Karys appeared on the edge of the Galithian Training Grounds the other night, I…” He hesitated.

“You told her sister she was there.” My jaw clenched. “You helped them set a trap for her, didn’t you?”

He stood up straighter, the metal around his ankles grating harshly against the stone. “Savna truly wanted to protect her. From the destruction happening in Mindoth, and from the grumblings and increasing vitriol our kind had started to spit toward her.”

“And do you think her sister will succeed in changing those grumbling minds?”

He considered the question as he shifted his hands, twisting his wrists around and trying to redistribute the weight of his chains. “I want her to, if only because the alternative would be…”

I stepped even closer, heat flaring around me and making him wince. “The alternative would bewhat?”

I expected him to wither as I pressed nearer. But he looked me directly in the eyes and said, “Our kind have never been lenient with traitors.”

“Traitors,” I growled. “Because if she does not conform exactly to your ideals, then she must be a traitor and a grave threat to your kind. There is no in-between.”

He smiled grimly. “We understand one another, at last.”

We fell silent.

The quiet deepened as the seconds passed, until I became unnervingly aware of every sound—from the pitter-patter of scurrying rat feet to the distant, nervous heartbeats of the guard who continued to keep out of my sight.

The torch outside settled as I contemplated my next words and studied Cillian. Now that I stood so close, his dire state was even more apparent.

I was not sure what my brother’s soldiers had put him through, but he looked as though he had barely survived it.

His body sagged under the weight of his shackles. His breathing was ragged and uneven. His face seemed to be growing more pallid with every passing second. And all the violence I was capable of suddenly seemed useless, as did coercing with threats.

In my experience, it was difficult to threaten people who had little left to lose.

“Karys told me you were always the voice of reason amongst her old friends,” I tried instead.

He didn’t reply, too busy staring at his reflection in the tarnished metal cup that lay at his feet. “This isn’t about me.”

“No, it’s about her. And you helped her escape once before. So clearly you have not forgotten about the friendship you once shared. Which is why you will tell me where she is.”

He kept his eyes on his tarnished reflection, but I saw them flash with brief awareness and concern—a break in his stubbornness.

“What will it take?”

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