Page 14 of Cherish

“Let me get changed,” she repeats as she starts walking back toward the front of the castle. “Then we’ll talk.”

Now I’m even more concerned. I look to Hudson, but he’s already on it. “I’ll take care of the others. You go do what you need to do.”

Thank you, I mouth, then follow Artelya.

“Where do you want me to meet you?” I ask as we walk into the castle entryway. I can see that my grandmother has been busy remodeling again. The heavy gray stones have been painted a dark navy that somehow manages to look both intimidating and royal at the same time. She’s also hung some beautiful landscapes of Ireland on the wall, though I’m pretty sure that’s my grandfather’s influence.

Another time, I might spend a few minutes taking it all in, but right now I’m more concerned about whatever it is Artelya wants to discuss, so I barely give them a cursory glance.

“The interrogation room,” she answers as she turns down the hallway, and my heart speeds up.

“I’m sorry. The what?” I choke out. Then clear my throat. “We have an interrogation room?”

“Of course we do. Where do you think Alistair and Chastain used to torture their enemies?”

I have absolutely no idea, and to be honest, I don’t want to know. My grandfather and my respected former general torturing people isn’t something that has ever crossed my mind. I don’t say that, though. Instead, I go with, “And when did they last torture someone?”

She stops to look me in the eye. “The Second Great War was brutal, Grace. Things had to be done.”

“Well, the Second Great War is long behind us,” I answer, squaring my shoulders and staring right back at her. “And we don’t torture anyone in my Court.”

I’ve signed on for a lot of things since I joined this paranormal world. Mating a vampire. Being a demigod. Even accepting the gargoyle crown. But I absolutely, positively draw the line at torturing anyone.

Artelya sighs, looking disappointed—though I’m not sure whether it’s with me or just because she doesn’t get to torture anyone. Either way, I’m not particularly impressed.

“Yes, well, we still have to interrogate the spy,” she finally says. “So let’s meet downstairs, the room just past the cells at the end of the east hallway, in twenty minutes. I’m covered in dirt and need a quick shower.”

And then she walks away, muttering, “Though I’m not sure how you expect us to get the enemy to talk.”

As she disappears from view, I can’t help swallowing the bile rising in my throat at her word choice. There’s an enemy at the Gargoyle Court.

7

Don’t Have a Field

Day with This

Okay, twenty minutes to kill without going stir-crazy trying to think of what “enemy” is being held captive right now? Only one thing to do, really.

Which is why I don’t waste a second before turning and jogging back down the hallway. I pick up speed as I head into the main hall, then hang a sharp right and out the double doors—straight for the training arena in the back.

As my feet pound against the packed earth, I can’t stop thinking about how many prisoners Artelya has tortured for information over the years, if one more doesn’t even warrant delaying a shower. I’m not naive. I know the Gargoyle Court has mainly existed during a much more brutal world than now, but still…I shudder. The whole idea of harming someone held captive and helpless is revolting to me.

Thankfully, I catch up with my friends just as they round the makeshift bleachers.

“Jikan’s training with the gargoyles?” Flint sounds incredulous as I skid to a stop next to him.

“Not exactly,” Hudson answers before locking eyes with me and raising his brows in question.

I give my head a quick shake, letting him know now isn’t the time to discuss what Artelya wanted, and thankfully he crosses his arms and turns back to Flint.

“What does that mean? He’s either—” Flint breaks off as he gets his first good look at the arena—and what happens to it every Thursday.

“Soccer?” Eden’s eyes go wide. “We’re here for asoccergame?”

“I think you mean football,” Hudson comments mildly.

“Excuse me,” she says in an outrageously fake British accent as she makes a face at him. “We’re here for afootballgame?”

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