“Always,” he agreed, eyeing her.
Talon leaned forward until her face was right next to his. She whispered, “To my kind, that stone he wears around his neck is as obvious as a lightning strike on a clear night would be to you. It hums to my body of its power. It vibrates with magic. It sings.”?
Darzin gazed at the shape-shifter in amazement. “I had no idea you had this ability.”
Talon blushed and looked away, a perfect imitation of a cloistered virgin. When she looked back, her expression was more serious. “I take it this is why you took so long to find him? Because the stone shields him?”
Darzin scoffed. “It was pure luck I stumbled upon him at all. I can only assume that when Lyrilyn ran with him, she gave the baby to that whorehouse bitch my father used to own.”
“Poor Therin. He frees Ola and she repays him by stealing the son he won’t admit is his anyway.” She paused. “Are we sure Therin didn’t put her up to it? It would be a canny move for him, if Therin wanted to keep an eye on his son without admitting who daddy is.”
He frowned and studied the far walls of the dungeon before shaking his head. “No. If he knew where Kihrin was the whole time, he’d have damn well shown up when the High General said he’d found one of our Ogenra in the Lower Circle. But you ate the brat’s keeper, that Reveler musician. Didn’t he know anything?”
She feigned disappointment. “Ola was the mastermind behind this. There were rumors she was a Zheriaso witch—there might be truth to that.”*
“This whole thing has been a disaster. Somehow, she paid for her bond price, and Therin let her buy back her freedom. Who does that? He should have taken the metal and whipped her until she learned her place. Instead she took the brat and raised him right under our noses, and none of us noticed. Downright embarrassing. We’ve had no luck finding her either, not with all our people out looking. Maybe, as you say, she is a witch. I’ll see if the Academy can send a witchhunter out to help.”
“When you do, tell them to check all the bakeries and sweet shops.”
Darzin smirked. “If I had my way, we’d just kill the brat and give him to you. However, from what little we’ve researched on the Stone of Shackles, the necklace lends its wearer a kind of immortality, so we don’t dare. And like most of those damned rocks, it can only be removed by the owner willingly.”?
“Well, that shouldn’t be hard. Who do we have to torture?”
Darzin scowled. “A dead musician or a whorehouse madam. Unfortunately, Thaena wouldn’t Return the musician, and I can’t find Ola anywhere.”
She looked disappointed, giving no hint of her own culpability in Surdyeh’s death or Ola’s disappearance. “Someone could cast an enchantment on his mind, perhaps?”
“Not likely to work, even assuming you could locate an enchanter. Ironic and unfortunate if Ola turns out to be one—but that would explain a few things.” Darzin snaked an arm around the girl’s waist and drew her closer. “I’m surprised you’re even able to read Kihrin’s mind.”
She shrugged. “I don’t use magic for that. I can read anyone’s mind. It’s like reading a book over someone’s shoulder. Although it’s faster if I gobble down the whole book all at once.”
He pulled away from her. “Anyone’s mind?”
“Oh, anyone weak-willed. Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’ve learned to shut me out.”* She pretended to chide him.
He settled back beside her. “Nothing personal.”
“Of course. I still have plans for the boy. Mentally, he’s quite a mess, you know. I’ll have fun with that.” She paused. “‘If I had my way’ and then ‘we,’ you said. Are you working with someone I don’t know about?”
“Just a group of like-minded men who share the same goals. Nothing to worry about.”
“The others want him alive, then?”
Darzin ran his hands along her shoulders while nodding. “At least until we’ve convinced him to give up the Stone of Shackles.” His eyes never left Talon’s body, heedless of the fact they were just inches from a fresh cadaver. “Afterward, I don’t think they’ll care what happens to him.” He stopped moving his hands. “This slave girl’s sister … what’s her name? I’ll send my men to buy her. She might be useful leverage.”
At that, Talon threw her arms up and sank back down on the table next to the dead man, pulling Darzin on top of her almost-naked body. She laughed at the delightful joke. With leisure, she unbuckled, unbuttoned, and unfastened the Lord Heir’s clothes, oblivious to the blood and gore around them.
“That’s the best part, darling,” she whispered. “You already own her.”
41: REFUSAL
(Kihrin’s story)
Words cannot express how much I loathe you.
Do you honestly expect this charade to continue?
Why should it, Talon? For your amusement? Do you think that after you have tormented me, betrayed me, haunted me at every turn, murdered my friends, orchestrated all of this, that I would want to play story time with you?
Take back your damn rock.
I’ve had enough.
42: THE YOUNGER SON
(Talon’s story)
My dear Kihrin, don’t be like that. We are having “story time,” as you put it, as a sign of my respect.
Your cooperation is unnecessary. You think I don’t realize the necklace around your throat holds your gaesh? I can force you to tell me. Or I can steal the information from your mind as easily as ordering a drink at the Culling Fields. You can’t stop me.
Do you think I do this only for my amusement?
Now look here. This rock we’ve been passing between us may look like a normal stone, worn smooth by the river, but your father Surdyeh was quite an enchanter. He taught me a few tricks. Any words spoken by the person holding this stone are stored inside to be heard again later.* Think of your story, told in your own words, being heard by Emperor Sandus or General Milligreest; a revenge that carries beyond the grave. I’ll turn this stone over to whoever you like. I will make sure this reaches them, and they’ll hear what it contains.
Your enemies believe you’re no longer a threat to them, but you could be their worst nightmare—a voice they can’t silence.
So. Whether you wish to continue is your choice.
Why don’t you think about it? We’ll skip your turn for now. I can continue easily enough. Let’s see …
Now I’m going to tell you about another young man, only a year younger than our poor, ill-fated hero, but worlds apart in every other respect …
* * *