Page 20 of Wings of Ebony
He cups my shoulder. “In the meantime, just—justtryto adhere to the rules.”
“When people we love are in danger and we have the means to stop it—wedosomething. Even if it’s against the rules… Aasim.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Where’s the girl?”
“Probably at her grandmother’s.” I let go of the door handle.
“Has her memory been wiped?”
That’s a thing? I must have skipped that day. “N-no. I-I… there was no time for any of that. My magic got weird and…”That guy with the tattoo disappearing from the car…
“The first time you touch them they see everything. Your strongest memories—usually the most recent ones—become theirs. Like a stock of photos tucked away without sound or meaning. But even a humanseeingcould be enough to out that Ghizon exists. That’s not a risk the Chancellor will be inclined to take.”
What risk is Tasha? “She’s a kid! And doesn’t everyone around here say he’s so generous and kind? He—”
“Rue, Iknowhim. I’ve known him myentirelife. He basically raised me, remember? He’s calculating. Clever. And careful. Very careful. This isnota risk he’s going to take.”
“H-h-how much does he know?” I ask.
“For now, he doesn’t knowwhoyou touched, but I assure you, he will find out.”
I stumble for words. “He won’t hurt her. I’ll kill him.”
“Well—”
The glass door thrusts open and a guard with a familiar face—a friendly familiar face—peeks through. I muffle a gasp and the knot between my shoulders eases. Some.
“Good day, ma’am,” he says. Recognition flashes in his eyes, but his tone is stilted. “Follow me, your cell is ready.” He turns to Aasim. “The Chancellor and his general are inside waiting for you, sir. They’re ready to begin.”
Luke, Bri’s green-haired, green-eyed boyfriend, chances a wink as he escorts us inside.
CHAPTER 7
THE DETAINMENT ROOM ISa concrete box with a rectangular window on the far end. On the other side of the window is another room with three pairs of eyes fixed on me: the Chancellor, Aasim, and a man with a scar under his eye: the General, the Chancellor’s dawg. He wears a tunic the color of ice, and his eyes are even colder.
“Over here, Rue,” Luke calls. I back away from the window feeling sick. The way the Chancellor and his scar-faced errand boy are staring at me, I could be in deep shit.
A rancid smell like crayons stings my nose as I move to the center of the room, past a small cot and a single metal chair.
“If you’ll sit.”
“Nope, I’ll stand.” Something about standing makes me feel more… ready, more… in control.
“O-okay. Th-that’s fine.” Luke plucks a syringe from a metal tray. “This might hurt a little bit.” He cranes his neck for a good angle. “Could you lift up your…”
I grab my nest of curls and hold it off my neck.
“Yep, perfect. Just like that.”
My neck stings a moment before a tingling sensation takes over like ice water seeping into my veins.
“Another second. Almost done.”
“What exactly is this?” I ask, grimacing. A question you askbeforeyou let someone cut your skin open.
Luke resurfaces, a silver disc the size of a penny floating above his palm. “A tracker,” he says discreetly. “The General told me to. But don’t sweat it,” he says, leaning in, a satisfied smile on his face. “Bri can deactivate it if you want. Just tell her it’s the Z300 model. She’ll know what I mean.”
“Slow down, techie. Why do I need a tracker?” I whisper.
