Page 78 of A Promise of Peridot
His jaw tightened. “And you must know we have other ways of getting information out of people.”
A quiet dread rippled through me. “You wouldn’t,” I breathed.
“I don’t want to, but I’ll do what I have to do to heed his orders. Now tell me—where is the blade?”
I couldn’t tell him we hadn’t found it and give up the only leverage we might have. I couldn’t lie and tell him we had it and send his men after all the people I cared about. The reality of what might come next had been soaking in for a minute now, and I steeled myself. “Do what you have to do.”
He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it before he tried again. “Arwen...”
But I held my tongue.
Halden strode behind me, and I could only feel his fingersalong my spine as he unclasped my bodice and let it fall limply to the floor. Revulsion wasn’t all that coursed through me. Shock, too—shock at feeling his strangely familiar hands in such an intimate place.
He came to stand before me and lifted the hem of my blouse. I squirmed away from his touch as he raised the fabric up and tucked it gingerly, chastely, underneath my breasts.
Relief but alsopanicsang in my blood as he moved for the hearth and picked up the metal poker that had been resting beside it, weighing its heft in his hands. I fished for my powers, like tiny little buds not quite ready to bloom. I had used so much lighte to save Mari and myself, I had almost nothing left.
Come on,I urged my body.Fight.
He let the poker heat in the fire while I struggled, apparently not concerned that I might escape. When the rod was white-hot, he pointed it at me, hovering the metal right in front of my exposed skin.
Angry heat radiated off it in licks.
“Aren’t you afraid of me?” It was all that might persuade him now. “Of what I can do to you?”
“Come on, Arwen.” He laughed. “Heal me to death?”
I shook my head. “They didn’t tell you what I did at Siren’s Bay.”
“You mean what your Fae prince did? You’re trying to take credit for that? To scare me?”
I couldn’t tell if it was brilliant or senseless. Lazarus, in all his pride, did not want anyone to know just how much power I held.
“Just tell me,” he said. “Where is the blade?”
But I stayed quiet, unable to think of anything to save myself.
“I’m sorry.” He winced before pressing the scalding iron against my stomach.
Pain like nothing I had ever felt before splintered through me as the poker shrieked against the skin of my abdomen. I cried out before biting my tongue until blood pooled in my mouth.
The more relentless the pain, the more I reined in my sobs. He would not earn the satisfaction of my screams.
“This hurts me more than it hurts you.”
“I hope that’s true,” I said through my teeth.
“Where is the Stones-damned Blade?”
He removed the brand, taking my melted flesh with it, only to place it back into the crackling flames. The tent smelled like cooked meat, and I gagged and spat blood on the ground. The burning wound blistering above my navel stung worse than any lash Powell had ever landed on me. I could not endure another brand.
“Don’t make me do it again,” Halden said, as if he had heard my very thoughts. His voice was like sandpaper.
But something was bubbling beneath my heart. In my bones. My lighte was coming back, I could feel it. Maybe it was spurred on by the pain and the urgency of my predicament, as it had been in the tunnels hours before. I just needed a little more time. Mere moments.
Tears burned my eyes as he lifted the hot poker and brought the glowing end closer. But he hesitated. “Please,” he begged. “Just tell me where it is. I don’t want to hurt you again.”
“Do it, you coward.”
