Page 91 of The Second Death of Locke
The commander spun on Mare next. “You told me,” he hissed, “that he wasboundto his well. That they were useless without one another.”
Mare shook her head. “I… I don’t know. I only thought—”
“You are of no use to me anymore.”
Mare’s eyes filled with fear. She looked at Grey—they never need you as much as you need them, she’d told her once.
“Concord—” Kier started, but it was too late.
One of the soldiers moved forward, quick as a viper, and cut Mare Concord’s throat. Her eyes locked on Grey’s face, Mare barely even flinched as the blade carved a deadly path.
Someone screamed, muffled by their gag. Grey watched, nauseous with fear, as the blood poured from Mare’s throat, staining her shirt. She fell; the soldiers released her as she dropped to her knees, then her hands, then landed face-down. The pool of blood around her grew and grew.
We’re all going to die in this armor. Grey closed her eyes.
“I will release your companions,” the commander said, “but if you do not cooperate, Locke, I too will kill everyone you love. You are not the only one capable of threats.”
They were led away, Grey dizzy with the breakbloom and adrenaline and fear. Kier was taken with them down the hall, to a small room with a door.
“I would just like to say goodbye,” he said.
The commander shook his head. “You ask for too much.”
Kier met his gaze, unfaltering. “I am the High Lord,” he said loftily, daring the commander to protest. “Would you not treat me in a way befitting my station?”
In the end, they let him say goodbye. They each were injected with a dose of breakbloom and given civilian clothes to dress in. Afterward, they were taken to the entryway, and the supplemental guards backed to the wall, leaving the Lord of Locke to say farewell.
Grey could only stare at him, silent with anger, as he spoke to Brit and Ola and Eron, still held back by the guards. It was a death sentence, what he was doing. Finally, he turned to her, to where she glared at him.
“And you,” he said finally, so quietly it broke her heart. “Would you leave without saying goodbye?”
He was three paces away, his own guards giving him healthy space even as hers didn’t—it was as close as he could come to her before someone swung at them. They shifted uneasily as it was, and she hated him in that moment, more than she had hated anyone before. It was easy to hate him like this, when he was making sacrifices, because she could not look in his face and accept that she was about to lose him.
She wanted to curse him. She wanted to fight him. She wanted to kick him in the shin with her heavy boot. She would’ve, too, if her ankles weren’t tied.
“Beloved,” he said, because he could not say any of her names without revealing the truth. She wanted to throw herself against his chest and beg him to never leave her—she wanted to hate him all themore for this. She made a sound that he seemed to interpret asIf you could try to tether, you could kill them, because he said, “It is too weak and there are too many.”
Grey bit the gag, a low and awful sound rising in her throat.
“Tell Lot I will see him soon, and give my love to our mothers,” he said, quiet and grave.
She could not respond, so she only glared, forcing as much emotion as she could into her gaze since she could not put it through the tether.
For a long time, he looked at her, as if he was trying to memorize her face. She could not force herself to do the same, not when he was half blood, not when he had betrayed her.
“We either release them or we don’t,” one of the men behind Kier said sternly. “Your call, Locke.”
Kier sighed. Leaned forward. “You deserve to survive,” he said, very quietly.
Survival is not a meritocracy, Kiernan, she thought. Because if it was, Lot would be alive, and Severin, and her father, and all those who were so much better than her.
Then he stumbled, the move unlike him, and Grey felt something slip into her boot as he caught himself against her. The soldiers moved forward and he murmured, “I’m so sorry.”
For an instant, she thought he’d smuggled a knife in—but the object in her boot was small and blunt.
“Locke,” the commander said, coming up behind them.
Kier nodded. He straightened, his eyes not leaving Grey’s as he said, “Take them away. And if any harm does come to them, I will keep my promise, Commander, and you know I will do it.”
