Arista knew he was telling the truth. Not because she could read his face, which she barely saw through her matted hair, but because Saldur had no reason to lie. “What do you want?”
“Two things, really. I want you to realize that the New Empire has risen and nothing can stand in its way. Your life, Arista, is over. You will be executed in a matter of weeks. And your dreams are already dead. You need to bury them alongside the sad little graves of Hilfred and Emery.”
Arista stiffened.
“Surprised? We learned all about Emery when we retook Ratibor. You really do have such a way with men. First you got him killed and then Hilfred as well. You must make black widows jealous.”
“And the second?” She noticed his momentary confusion. “The other reason we’re having this little chat?”
“Oh yes. I want to know who you were working with.”
“Hilfred—you killed him for it, remember?”
Saldur smiled and then struck her hard across the face. The chains binding Arista’s wrists snapped taut as she tried to protect herself. He listened to her crying softly for a moment and then said, “You’re a smart girl—too smart for your own good—but you’re not that smart. Hilfred may have helped you escape arrest. He might even have hidden you for those weeks we searched. But he couldn’t have gotten you into the palace or found this prison. Hilfred died wearing the uniform of a fourth-floor guard. You must have had help from someone on the staff to get that, and I want to know who it was.”
“There was no one. It was just me and Hilfred.”
Saldur slapped her again. Arista cried out, her body shaking, jangling the chains.
“Don’t lie to me,” he said while raising his hand again.
Arista spoke quickly to stay the blow. “I told you. It was just me. I got a job working in the palace as a chambermaid. I stole the uniform.”
“I know all about you posing as Ella the scrub girl. But you couldn’t have gotten the uniform without help. It had to be someone in a position of authority. I must know who the traitor is. Now tell me. Who was helping you?”
When she said nothing, he struck her twice more.
Arista cringed. “Stop it!”
“Tell me,” Saldur growled.
“No, you’ll hurt her!” she blurted.
“Her?”
Realizing her mistake, Arista bit her lip.
“So it was a woman. That limits the possibilities considerably, now doesn’t it?” Saldur played with a key that dangled from a small chain, spinning it around his index finger. After several minutes, the regent crouched down and placed the lantern on the floor.
“I need a name and you will tell me. I know you think you can carry her identity to your grave, but whether you hold your tongue out of loyalty to her or to spite me, you should reconsider. You might believe that a few weeks is not long to hold your tongue, but once we start, you’ll wish for a quick death.”
He brushed her hair aside. “Look at that face. You don’t believe me, do you? Still so naive. Still such an optimistic child. As a princess, you’ve led such a pampered life. Do you think that living among the commoners of Ratibor and scrubbing floors here at the palace has made you strong? Do you think you have nothing else to lose and you’ve finally hit bottom?”
When he stroked her cheek, Arista recoiled.
“I can see by your expression that you still have some pride and a sense of nobility. You don’t yet realize just how far you have to fall. Trust me, Arista, I can strip you of that courage and break your spirit. You don’t want to find out just how low I can bring you.”
He stroked her hair gently for a moment, then grabbed a handful. Saldur pulled hard, jerking her head back and forcing Arista to look at him. His gaze lingered on her face. “You’re still pure, aren’t you? Still untouched and locked in your tower in more ways than one. I suspect neither Emery nor Hilfred dared to bed a princess. Perhaps we should begin with that. I will let the guards know that they can—no—I will specifically order them to violate you. It will make both of us very popular. The men will be requesting extra duty so they can desecrate you night and day.”
Saldur let go of her hair, allowing her head to drop.
“Once you are thoroughly used and your pride has evaporated, I’ll send for the master inquisitor. I’m sure he will relish the opportunity to purge the evil from the infamous Witch of Melengar.” Saldur moved closer and spoke softly, intimately. “The inquisitor is very imaginative, and what he can do with chains, a bucket of water, and a searing hot brand is sheer artistry. You’ll scream until you lose your voice. You’ll black out and wake where the nightmare left off.”
Arista tried to turn away, but his wrinkled hands forced her to look at him once again. His expression was not pleased or maniacal. Saldur appeared grim—almost sad.