Chapter 32

Cathal looks terrible. He's slumped against the wall of his cell, his dark hair tousled and overgrown, matched by the unkempt beard swallowing half his face. He doesn't look up as I approach, likely assuming my footsteps belong to the guard responsible for coming down here and tending to him. Judging from Cathal's disheveled appearance, I assume Sin gave orders to not tend too generously.

"They don't know I'm here," I say, announcing my presence in the dank, subterranean dungeon. I don't have long before Sin and the others return to the castle after bidding their farewells to those in attendance. The stench of rotting food and urine assaults my nose as I step up to the cell containing the man who once abused me.

Cathal rolls his head up lazily to look at me. The skin around his eyes is swollen and purple, and his once straight nose now hangs crooked. His lips are cracked, and his dark brown tunic is torn and riddled with blood stains. "Come to let me out, sweetheart?" His voice is heavy and sluggish, dehydration and malnourishment rotting him from the inside out like diseased fruit.

My soft laughter has a hint of hysteria around the edges. "I'm onto your little plan, Cathal."

"Pray tell sweetheart, which little plan is this?"

"The one where you expect me to hand myself over to Legion in exchange for Cosmina's life. If you ever bothered to listen to a damn thing I told you, you'd know my sister would rather die than to let me work for the likes of you."

He licks his lips and shuffles so he sits up a little straighter, resting his hands over his knees. Iron shackles connect his wrists with only about six inches of space between them, and an identical set binds his ankles. "Or maybe I listened to you so well, sweetheart, I knew you'd do anything for that gorgeous sister of yours. Even if it means marching that sweet ass of yours into hellfire."

I slam my hands against the cell, magic pooling into my fingertips and begging to be released. "You listen to me, you ignorant prick. I will never make a deal with Legion, but I will fight alongside the kingdom to destroy your entire godsdamned army if you don't tell me where she is. Where is Cosmina?!"

His laughter quickly turns into a deep coughing fit as Cathal hacks into the side of his closed fist. When he finishes retching up one of his lungs, he looks at me with a half amused, half delirious glint in his eyes. "I never thought I'd see the day where Wren, the ever-self-righteous queen of godsdamned placation, has threatened me. I think we both know you haven't got the gall."

I lower onto one knee and curl my fingers towards myself, admiring my fingernails as if I just buffed them with a pumice stone. In a voice that sounds almost bored, I say, "I will rip the hearts out of every single one of your men and feast on them. My only regret will be if I kill them too quickly and deprive myself the pleasure of hearing them beg for their lives before I do. I bet they'll sing real fucking pretty with my blade at their cocks, don't you?"

Cathal's cracked lips twist into a hideous smirk. "Still thinking about their cocks, sweetheart?"

The cell door groans as it slides open between us. I jump back, startled. Goddess above, how did that—

Sin steps up beside me, rain dripping from the tips of his raven hair and down his long-sleeved black leather surcoat. The Black Art hovers above his prisoner, staring down at Cathal with a look that is downright frightening, casting him in shadow.

"Here to ruin our fun, Sire? Wren here was just telling me how she couldn't stop thinking about our c—"

Chaos explodes next to me.

Sin grabs a fistful of Cathal's weathered tunic and yanks him to his feet. Cathal gets one protest out of his foul mouth before Sin slams his back against the wall and drives his knee into his stomach. Once. Twice. A third time.

Cathal rolls his head back to look at Sin, coughing as his lungs are compressed with the impact of the blows. "All this over a fucking bloodwitch. I should have just killed her when I had the chance, and now you're too much of a fucking pussy to d—"

Sin's fist connects with his jaw before Cathal can rattle off the rest of his sentence. Again. And again. Blood spurts from his nose, his mouth, dripping onto his tattered tunic. His scent pets my tongue with a honeyed sweetness reminiscent of freshly dried figs, but my mouth doesn't water at the smell of the Legion commander's spilled blood. A wine connoisseur has no interest in a bottle that has been brewed with rotten grapes.

I startle when Sin slams his palms against Cathal's chest, golden magic seeping out from his hands.

Cathal's hollers of pain nearly split the dungeon in two.

I watch in horror as Sin heals him. Healing him so he may continue to break him.

Cathal twists and cries out as his ribs are poorly mended, and his jaw and nose snap back into alignment. As soon as the magic vanishes from his palms, Sin grabs a fistful of the fabric at Cathal's chest and throws him to the ground. He steps over him, and with a sound that can only be described as pure, masculine rage, the Black Art pounds his fist into Cathal's face, now leaking blood from all orifices, losing all sense of self to blinding fury.

The caster's high.

Sin would have had to use a tremendous amount of magic to force a transcendent to shift under iron. Mages are vulnerable to emotion after expelling great amounts of magic—commonly lust—but in more extreme circumstances, it can invoke bouts of serious wrath. With Sin's power influenced with that of the goddess, it surely takes a lot more casting to invoke the caster's high, like how a drunkard needs to ingest more brandy to fall into a stupor. Flooding Thatcher with enough power to break the magical binding of a purifying element has broken the seal on the Black Art's control.

In different circumstances, I could watch him gut Cathal and not blink an eye. But the Legion commander may be the only connection I have to finding my sister. I need him. And judging by the increasing speed of Sin's punches, I don't think he's stopping to heal him again.

No one else is dying today.

"Stop," I say, my voice quiet but firm.

Sin's fist halts inches above Cathal's broken jaw as if frozen in place. He stays there for an extended beat, as if he had forgotten I was present at all, before uncurling his bloodied fingers from his tunic, and Cathal's limp body falls to the ground with a thud. Unconscious, but alive.

Probablyalive.

Sin turns his head just enough for me to glimpse most of his profile and note the muscles feathering in his jaw. "You have seconds to tell me why you're down here." He moves to face me fully now, his head dipped slightly as he approaches, making him look all the more predatory.

But I am not prey.

"I asked him where Cosmina is." I will my voice to hold steady as I stare into his eyes now glowing yellow-green from the use of magic.

He stops approaching when there's only a few feet of distance remaining between us. "And what did he tell you?"

He is an ocean caught in its own storm, waves of anger rolling off him and threatening to knock me back with their wake.

I lift my chin a little higher. "He wouldn't," I admit.

"Coming down here to get answers on your own—trying to get out of our arrangement, little witch? I offered you a deal. Sneak behind my back again, and I'll easily find a different purpose for you," he drawls, his voice sharp as the athame strapped beneath my dress. Sin's stare strips me bare as he scans my face, looking more beast than man. He takes another step forward—a challenge. "Never come down here again," he whispers, his words weighted and heavy.

"And what if I do? Will you kill me too, Your Grace? Since that seems to be the only way you're capable of solving problems."

He erases the remaining distance between us in one step, his hand forming a collar around my throat. My shoulders slam into the wall behind me as he pins me between it and his body. My pulse thrums wildly in my neck as my veins swell with the rush of magic. I prepare to scald that hand the second his grip tightens any farther.

"Let go of me," I warn through clenched teeth.

Air huffs from his nose, and I swear my flesh burns away to bone as he slowly drags his eyes up my body before settling on mine. My heart flutters like a hummingbird's wings, and I only hope he can't hear it. Though if his boosted magic has enhanced his sense of smell as he suggested, I can only imagine what it's done for his hearing as well.

I go deadly still as he leans in and presses his forehead against mine. "Never… sneak behind my back again, Wren."

This time when he speaks my name, it isn't to show respect, but rather to assert dominance. He keeps us here for another breath, his large hand wrapped around my neck and his forehead pressed to mine.

When he finally drops his arm, I resist the urge to rub my throat. I stand tall, showing him he does not intimidate me, despite the icy tendrils skittering down my spine like spider legs.

Sin walks back to the cell, and the door slams closed as he magically locks it with a wave of his hand, Cathal's body still limp and unresponsive inside. He leans against the door, looping both arms through the bars and grabbing his wrist with his other hand. I push my collective out and envelop his, but this time, I don't recoil as his rage and anxiety courses through me. But I don't need to read him to see just how deep his personal torment has settled.

I push off the wall and linger behind him. The tension rolling off him charges the air between us as if his body was a thundercloud about to erupt.

"Your heart is sad. It will hurt more when you finally face all that pain you've buried so deep inside yourself. A lot more. But it's got to be better than this," I whisper.

The door to the dungeon slams shut behind me, and I head towards the stone staircase off the foyer. Dusaro barges through the entrance, and his face morphs into pure fury when he spots me at the foot of the stairs and beelines towards me.

I expect him to spew a nasty string of insults when he approaches. I don't expect the open-handed slap as he strikes me across the face.

Stumbling backwards, my hand immediately flies to my cheek.

"How dare you question his authority in front of a crowd?" he bellows.

Lowering my hand, I say, "I tried to prevent him from making a humongous mistake. One I have no doubt you highly encouraged!"

Dusaro pulls his arm back to hit me again, this time with a clenched fist, but I dart out of his path. When I spin back to face him, I hold a ward taut between my palms. If he tries to hit me again, the ward will deflect the blow.

"Your prejudices are sickening. There was no need to—"

He swipes my legs out from under me, and I go tumbling forwards. My hands absorb the brunt of my fall, stopping my face from colliding with the floor. Dusaro's weight crashes onto my back, sending my stomach flush against the stone. He pins my body between two muscular thighs and yanks my head back by a fistful of my unbound hair.

"You like making us look like fools, do you? How's this for looking like a godsdamned fool?" Dusaro slams the side of my head into the floor, but before he can hurl it to the ground for a second time, I set myself on fire.

Phantom flames ignite my skin and erupt into a golden ring around me, the quivering tips of the blaze sneering at him as Dusaro scrambles off me, muttering a string of swears. His arms cover his head instinctively, the lapels of his black jacket smoldering as I rise to my feet once more, leaving an outline of my silhouette scorched into the floor.

I prowl around him, a facetious smile teasing my lips as I display my power, a firestorm careening through my plump, swollen veins. Dusaro glowers at me with nothing shy of ferocity beaming out from within his dark eyes. My defense is ready when he sheathes his arm in an icy blue ward and pulls his fist back to hit me again, but halts mid-swing.

Sin's bronzed hand wraps around his father's knuckles and forcibly lowers Dusaro's arm to his side. He steps between us, putting me at his back as he faces his father.

"She embarrassed us in front of half of Blackreach. The bloodwitch publicly questioned your authority, and you didn't have her arrested! What kind of Black Art would allow something so filthy to question him like that?!"

"Kind of like how you're questioning my authority right now, Father?"

"I wouldn't have to question you so much if you could make a decent decision just once in your life! But you can't, and it is an embarrassment to our family's name. You always were weak. Just like your mother," he chastises.

"That is enough!" I shout, throwing my arms down to my sides. "You both should be ashamed of the atrocity that happened out there today. I am disgusted by the cruelty of you both. I can think of a thousand different things I would like to see happen to him," I shove a finger in Sin's direction, "but having you as a father isn't one of them. You are an embarrassment to Aegidale and a disgrace for a father."

Dusaro heads straight for me, aiming a finger at my chest. "If you don't do something about her, Singard, I will. And that's a godsdamned promise."

In one swift maneuver, Sin pulls his father against his chest and wraps an arm of corded muscle around his neck, holding him snug in a headlock. I've never seen the Black Art be physical with Dusaro, but I've also never seen him this high on magic either.

"You're not going to touch a hair on her pretty little head," Sin murmurs. "You know what happens when people try to touch what is mine."

Dusaro snickers, but his reddish-brown skin pales beneath his son's grip. "Don't tell me you have feelings for the bloodwitch."

"Don't think so low of me, Father," he growls. Sin drops his hold and steps away from him, but remains between us, not trusting Dusaro to not lunge for me again.

Dusaro straightens and shoots me a disgusted look before turning back to Sin. "I have sent word to Sterling about what has happened here today. We are expecting the Langstons tomorrow evening."

"You're just telling me this now?" Sin huffs with annoyance.

"I shouldn't have to. You should have alerted them the minute that thing was brought here. But to no surprise, you failed to do so, so I stepped in to do what needed to be done. And you," he spits, turning his attention back to me, "will be with the Langston boy tomorrow evening. Get him to invite you to Castle Summerswind. I want that entire castle interrogated with your…" he makes a circling motion around his head to imply my ability. "Now that we have proof someone is helping them, I want you around Lady Langston, their daughters, and every servant in their ranks. I hear Sterling's eldest son will be returning soon as well, and when he does, you can infiltrate his mind too. Your work isn't done, girl," he finishes, sneering down at me over his slender nose.

I spit at his feet. "You make me sick."

"Get out of my sight."

Hurtling myself up the stairs and into my room, I slam my door shut and lock it with magic. It won't be enough to keep Sin out if he decides he wants in, but it will keep the handmaidens out. I throw myself onto the bed and wonder if any of Thatcher's family was watching from that crowd today.