Page 126 of Owned

“No, indeed.” Bastian crooked his finger at the man and his magic dragged the captive Sage across the courtyard toward him. His toes didn’t touch the gravel, but a furrow was carved in the loose stones as though they were. “He’ll probably take it personally. Wouldn’t you agree?”

The strip of dull gray duct tape muffled the attempted escapee’s moan.

I didn’t have to reply.

Bastian reached out and ripped the duct tape from the Sage’s mouth in a swift motion. A pathetic cry trembled on the man’s lips and Bastian rolled his eyes as he tossed the tape to the gravel.

He turned to the other two captives. “Pay close attention,” he said.

A pause.

The first man followed Bastian’s instructions, but Elder Ireni kept his eyes downcast.

“Headmaaaaster—” Bastian sang in a mocking tone. “Have some respect for your fellow rat.”

I was entranced by the brutality of it all—the way Bastian reveled in his power.

The Sage at the headmaster’s right shrieked a muted protest, but Elder Ireni didn’t look up.

Bastian’s eyes flared with malice as he turned back to the captive struggling in his magic’s grasp. The man’s eyes bulged with naked terror while the black smoke drew tighter around his chest.

His scream was choked silent as Bastian’s hand clenched into a fist and the Sage’s ribs fractured under the pressure.

The sound echoed over the courtyard, but the thrill was gone too quickly.

Bastian relaxed his hand and the Sage’s lifeless body collapsed into an untidy heap at his feet.

“Ah well,” he sighed, sounding almost disappointed.

His gaze flicked to me, gauging my reaction to the display.

I shrugged as though it didn’t matter—itdidn’tmatter—and I was rewarded with the cruel twist of Bastian’s grin.

“Get up,” he barked at the remaining prisoners. “We’re going to do this again, and let’s try to make it inside this time.”

The other Sage reached down to help the headmaster to his feet. Blood stained the knees of the old man’s trousers. The terror in Elder Ireni’s eyes was almost satisfying.

But the former headmaster seemed to have regained some composure, enough to walk beside his companion, although the slight tremor in his hands would have made Lucian sneer.

Bastian brushed off his hands and then flicked nonexistent dirt from his cuffs. “See? That was rather entertaining,” he said. His voice was smooth and calm.

I moved closer to the prisoners and relished their flinch at my approach.

“Shall we try that again?” Bastian’s voice dripped with mockery, and I shot him a glance, half proud, half irritated. He had a way of making brutality seem almost whimsical.

Almost.

Our remaining captives shrank back further, pressed against each other as if it would save them or shield them.

Old fools.

Before we could hustle the prisoners toward the house, the doors to Withermarsh flew open, and Valen rushed out to meet us. His face was ashen, eyes wide with something I hadn’t seen in him for years.

Fear.

“Where the fuck have you been?” He demanded.

Bastian laughed, the sound too loud, too bright in the grim courtyard. “Are you kidding?” He gestured at our captives with exaggerated grandiosity. “We were a little busy…”

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