Page 52 of Captive of the Stolen Empire

“No, not at all.”

“But?” I grabbed her wrist, letting my thumb rub circles across her smooth skin.

“One of the guests in your cells, Gabriel, shares the same mark.”

I jerked back. Another ruse. Another attempt to get under my skin. I should have known. “A coincidence.”

She touched my face, soft as a gentle breeze. “It’s not. All the men of his line have such a mark.”

I frowned and stepped away. Every touch clouded my thoughts, my judgment. “If this is some last effort to talk me into changing their punishment, I can’t. And I won’t. Drop it, Ilya.”

“It’s not just that! If this mark runs in his family and you both share it—”

“Then we must be related?” I asked.

“Yes.” The word cracked from her throat.

“My parents are dead, Ilya. All my family.” The horrible memories of my past, the earliest I knew, flashed through my head. She’d stirred them up more in the past weeks than anyone had in cycles. “The emperor found me alone in a ramshackle cabin, near starved, mourning their bodies.”

She stepped back, her shoulders stiffening. “But what if—”

“Did you not hear me? I’m nobody. An orphan plucked out of a village outside Zhine. A weak, sobbing no one!”

Ilya flinched at my outburst, but a determined gleam quickly replaced the sorrow in her gaze. “How old were you?”

“What?” I almost snarled.

“How old were you when the emperor found you?”

My lips thinned. “Five or six cycles? I don’t know exactly.”

“Gabriel’s nephew was almost six when he disappeared. You could—”

“I’m done with this! We’ll talk no more of it.” No more craftily woven tales to get me to bend. No more pitiful glances to pray on my weaknesses and reopen my old wounds.

“Lucien…” She looked away and shook her head.

Good. I couldn’t handle any more of her games. Not tonight. One moment I wanted her, the next I was sure she’d kill me in a heartbeat if she could. I’d gotten nowhere with Ilya and only confused myself more. I needed rest. Clarity. I turned and headed for the door.

“When will it happen?” she asked, her words quiet and far away.

At the threshold, I looked back over my shoulder at the woman who’d pulled in on herself like a beggar huddling for warmth. At least she wouldn’t share the punishment of her friends. The briefest thought of having to remove my bangle from her arm and subject her to that sent my stomach rolling and my teeth on edge.

“Two days’ time.”

Chapter23

Lucien

Flames illuminated the fog, jumping like spooked mares in the mist, as I neared the arena. My fingers flexed in anticipation of the magic I would wield in mere moments. Already it tingled under my skin, waiting to be released.

I should have been used to it by now—how many countless humans had fallen victim to my illusions over the cycles? More than I could count or remember. The traitors deserved punishment for their acts, for trying to slip information out of the capital. Such a thing could not slide by without consequences. But it could have been done in private, away from prying eyes. Instead, our emperor demanded a public show.

The wooden arena wasn’t enough of a stage. He ordered Orson to ring it in fire. A tactic to further intimidate the accused, as well as those in attendance.

Orange tongues of flame illuminated the somber faces of the audience crammed into the narrow wood stands overlooking the arena. Emperor Ryszard was impossible to miss, sitting on an armchair positioned in the center and flanked by two of my fellow captains. But it was another face I searched for among the many guards and staff.

She wasn’t hard to find, crammed between Elin and the flirtatious Reyna to her right. What little I could see of Ilya’s expression didn’t bode well—thin lips, squared shoulders. Her eyes locked on me as I neared the arena. Despite the distance separating us, I could feel her piercing gaze full of betrayal and hurt.

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