Chapter 2
It hadn’t taken more than five seconds inside the enemy aircraft to convince Amaranthe Lokdon that falling out of her team’s perfectly good dirigible and being captured had been a very bad idea. The cold, unadorned black walls lacked charm, but, more than that, the cavernous corridors branched and branched again, forming an asymmetric layout that made her feel like a field mouse being dragged into the bowels of a fox’s den. Even if she escaped, she might never find her way out. The proportions were odd, too, with high ceilings above narrow, confining corridors. In a spot where they climbed stairs, she found herself tripping over the steeply spaced treads. She remembered Sicarius’s claim that this technology had come from a non-human race. For the first time, she truly believed it.
The white-haired man walking behind Amaranthe, prodding her whenever her step slowed, added to her unease. At first, she had hoped her first guess wrong and that this wasn’t Pike, the old emperor’s Master Interrogator, but one of his men had addressed him by name. And rank. Apparently, he’d kept the “Major,” even though he’d been booted from the army for raping recruits. No doubt Emperor Raumesys and Commander of the Armies Hollowcrest had found those sadistic tendencies useful and encouraged the ex-officer to further develop them.
Had Major Pike been the only one accompanying Amaranthe, she might have tried to surprise him and escape, but a dozen other men marched ahead of and behind, hemming her in. Having her wrists tied behind her back didn’t encourage athletic feats either.
“Should I feel flattered that so many people came out to capture me?” Amaranthe asked over her shoulder. Since talking had always been her best way of gathering information, stirring up a conversation might be to her advantage. If nothing else, she wanted to know what had happened to Sicarius and the others. If this aircraft had succeeded in shooting down the dirigible, they could be wounded. Or worse.
Something hard pounded her between her shoulder blades. The pain, when compared to some of the injuries she’d received in the last twenty-four hours, was minimal, but the blow did cause her to stumble and bump into the men walking in front of her.
“Sorry,” Amaranthe said when one glared back at her. “Uneven flooring.”
The man’s over-the-shoulder glare continued for a long moment, and, as Amaranthe righted herself and resumed walking, she scrutinized him, trying to decide where he might have been recruited from. He had short hair, a clean-shaven face, and an athletic build, as did the other men escorting her. Soldier, her mind proclaimed, though she had no proof. They wore civilian clothing-factory-sewn wool trousers, sturdy cotton vests and dusters, and a variety of workman’s boots. None of the garments suggested uniformity, though her guards did have a tendency to walk in step with each other.
“Are you General Ravido’s men?” Amaranthe asked. She didn’t expect anybody to answer, especially not with the boss five feet away, but maybe she could surprise an eye flicker out of them, something that might confirm her guess.
Before that happened, Pike grabbed her elbow. Amaranthe expected another blow to land between her shoulder blades, and braced herself, but he yanked her back instead, then propelled her face-first into the wall. If she’d had her hands free, she might have caught herself, but without that recourse she smashed into the unyielding black alloy. Pain burst through her cheekbone. She bit her tongue, and blood flooded her mouth.
Amaranthe tried to pull away, but Pike leaned into her back.
The grip remained on her elbow, but knuckles or something else hard dug into a tender point near her kidney. She sucked in a pained gasp of air. Her first instinct was to squirm away, but there was nowhere to go. She tried to lift her leg for a backward kick, but his own legs trapped hers, forcing her knees against the wall.
Hot, fast breaths whispered across her swelling cheek. Had the effort taxed Pike? No, despite his age, rock hard muscles pressed against Amaranthe’s back. He was fit. He was just… excited. She swallowed and tried not to dwell on that idea, but his face came in close, beard stubble scraping at her skin. Fresh fear arose in her heart. All along, she’d been concerned for herself, but she hadn’t figured pain would be applied so soon. Surely, they should reach a nicely appointed torture chamber first?
“Too much talking?” Amaranthe asked, trying to sound brave, or at least unimpressed by the attack.
“Talking is allowed,” Pike said, his voice raspy from some old throat injury. Or maybe the promise of tormenting someone had excited him into hoarseness. “But only to answer questions. One question specifically.”
Again, Amaranthe tried to push away from the wall, but she couldn’t find the leverage. A detached part of her mind, the part avoiding thinking about Pike’s unpleasant closeness, analyzed the cool smoothness of that wall. It wasn’t porous like stone or brick, but it didn’t feel like metal either. It felt like the same material as Sicarius’s dagger.
Thinking of him reminded her that she should only have to endure Pike’s torment temporarily. Assuming her team had survived that crash-and surely they were too tough to die that way-they’d come looking for her. They’d find a way into this black behemoth, stick Pike full of daggers, and help her escape. She just had to survive until then. Then again, maybe her certainty was unfounded. The emperor needed help, and Sicarius… He’d admitted to caring for her, but Sespian was his son. Protecting him would have to be his priority. And, with Amaranthe gone, he’d likely take charge of the group. It was possible nobody would come for her. She tried to firm her resolve before the new thoughts could bring despair. If the team didn’t come, she’d simply have to escape on her own.
Pike mashed her harder against the wall, apparently expecting a response.
Amaranthe forced her aching jaw to move so she could ask, “What question might that be?”
“What,” Pike murmured, as if they were embracing lovers engaged in a tete-a-tete, “is the emperor to Sicarius?”
Though the question surprised her, Amaranthe kept herself from reacting outwardly. No amount of torture would make her give up Sicarius’s secret, but it would be better for her if Pike didn’t figure out there was a secret to be had. She found it encouraging that Pike wanted information on Sicarius and the emperor; that had to mean they’d survived the crash and eluded capture. She hoped the others had too.
“What are you talking about?” Amaranthe asked.
“After a year of simply reacting to Forge’s plans, last week, he slew as many of the members as he could reach. Days later, he risked his life, leading your team to kidnap the emperor. Why?”
Sicarius led the team? Amaranthe kept the thought to herself. Barely. The taste of blood in her mouth reminded her that arguing with the man had repercussions. If he thought she was some underling and Sicarius was in charge, things might go easier on her.
Fingers gripped the back of her head, nails digging into her scalp. Amaranthe had barely registered that pain when Pike rammed her face against the wall again. She gritted her teeth to keep from crying out. Blood flowed from her nose.
“You will find,” Pike said, “that prompt and truthful answers result in less discomfort.” He lowered his voice to a whisper to add, “Though I do not mind employing copious amounts of… discomfort to coerce information from you.”
“Oh, I’m sure of that,” Amaranthe muttered.
“Sicarius must have found out that the emperor wasn’t meant to make it back to the capital. For some reason, this prompted him to take aggressive action. What I want to know is why.”
Amaranthe felt her eyes widen, and she was glad the wall was the only thing looking at her face. All along, she’d suspected Forge had been planning to get rid of Sespian, a fact that had been confirmed when Books explained that the deadly neck implants were never intended to come out. What she hadn’t known was that they planned to act so soon. They must not need Sespian on the throne any more. They had a replacement ready. Ravido. Maybe that weapons shipment had been delivered so the general and his loyal soldiers could march into the city, take the Imperial Barracks, and declare the Marblecrests the new rulers of Turgonia. It wouldn’t be that easy-there were others who could legitimately bid for the throne, but it’d be hard to mount a campaign if Ravido and his men were already ensconced. And if Forge was a part of things, throwing its support behind him…