“You gutter snake,” Lars snapped. “You’re worthy of the title they bestow on you, Snake-tongue. Enough. I’m finished here.”
“But I’m not finished with you. If you were a half-decent leader, you’d summon all of Anakisha’s progeny to be tested.” She slumped back against the wall, her face a sickly shade of gray.
Grabbing his torch, Lars strode out the door, her barbs sticking in his gut as he swept past the guard who must’ve heard him bellowing at his cousin’s daughter.
§
Lars slammed the door to his cavern and stamped inside.
Lydia gave him a sharp look. “What’s the matter?”
“Sofia,” muttered Lars. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her. She’s as bad as Bruno and Fleur were. Attacking the Queen’s Rider, dividing the hold. Argh.” He yanked a boot off, hurling it against the granite wall.
“And Master Roberto’s not here to test her,” Lydia said. “Aren’t you worried about him?”
“Of course, I’m worried sick about him.” Lars sat on the couch, removing his other boot. Lydia sat next to him and rubbed his neck and shoulders. “Oh, that feels good.”
“Why haven’t you sent a team to rescue Roberto?” Lydia asked.
“It’s Tonio.”
“He has evidence against him?” Lydia raised her eyebrows, shaking her head as Lars nodded. “That poor lad, what does he have to go through next? Hasn’t he suffered enough at Zens’ hands? Can’t you do something? Say something to convince Tonio?”
Lars’ mouth took a grim set. “Tonio has evidence, Lydia. Evidence that would land Roberto in dire straits if he returned.” He sighed. “Sofia accused me of not being fair to Anakisha’s descendants. It’s been eating at me. I guess I have to call a meeting.”
Lydia kissed him and stood up. “The sooner, the better.”
Not if he could help it.
Torture
Roberto let his jaw hang slack and kept his fingers curled against his palms. He focused on the gray walls flecked with silica, watching the way the torchlight flickered on the stone.
A wave of violence ripped through his thoughts, scattering them like driftwood on a tide. “Still blocking me, are you?” Zens’ silky-smooth voice slipped into his head. “Amato was right. You’re useless.”
The granite walls wavered. Roberto forced them to the forefront of his mind again.
Zens flicked a finger.
Shackles rattling, Roberto’s body flew through the air. His head smacked stone and he slid down the wall. Stumbling to his feet, he gritted his teeth against the pain.
Zens’ yellow orbs loomed before Roberto. Roberto’s granite wall faded, replaced with childhood memories: his father murdering his beloved dog, Razo, spraying Roberto with blood as he wept; Pa arguing with Ma, splintering wooden walls in his fury; Pa beating Adelina; and Roberto jumping in, to be beaten in her stead. Agony ripped through him, as if Amato was inflicting every punch anew: his father punched his head and pain sparked across his skull; he kicked Roberto’s gut and his belly stabbed. Then Pa’s dragon, Matotoi, dropped his mother onto the rocks. She lay broken. Grief tightened Roberto’s throat, making it hard to breathe.
Zens’ voice slithered between the violent images. “Tell me everything about the new Queen’s Rider, and your memories will stop. You’ve tested her. You know her weaknesses, her strengths. Just tell me.”
Ma was dying. Chest twisting with grief, Roberto rushed across the rocks to help her.
No, it was Zens, making him relive his worst moments. The wall. Granite. Gray. Flecks. Straining, Roberto forced the image back into his head. Gray, gray stone. Hard, impenetrable.
His childhood faded to dust. There, he’d blocked Zens out. Skull aching, Roberto breathed heavily, sweat running down his forehead. Gray stone. Gray stone.
“Triple,” Zens called.
000 entered, stinking of the fetid carcasses it fed on.
“You thought you could leave me, did you? After everything I taught you? You’d only be half the man you are if it wasn’t for me.” Zens spat on Roberto’s face.
The masters had accepted Roberto to the council because of the talents he’d learned from Zens. The commander was right.
No, he was wrong, oh, so wrong.
“So close, but you slipped away.” Zens velvet voice turned to a snarl as he barked at 000. “If he wants to talk, or agrees to be my spy at Dragons’ Hold, we’ll give him the remedy to limplock. If not, he’ll die soon, so you may as well beat him to a pulp.”
§
After 000’s first slash across Roberto’s back and a vicious boot in his gut, Ezaara submerged, terrified. She couldn’t give her presence away. She was his only hope.
Roberto’s screams ricocheted off the stone walls. Curling into a ball, she held her hands over her ears and kept her mind submerged as tears tracked her cheeks.
The thud of boots against his body went on forever.
The thump of him hitting the floor.
Her mind fried with fear, but she had to keep her emotions hidden. Undetectable.
Abruptly, Roberto’s screams cut off.
000’s heavy boots kept thwacking Roberto’s soft flesh, making Ezaara’s skin crawl. Then 000 slammed the door, and the bar slid into place.
Ezaara sneaked to the crack. Roberto was sprawled on stone, covered in blood, all pretense of numlock and limplock gone. Silent, except for his rasping breaths.
She didn’t dare move. Gradually, Ezaara eased her mind open, tentatively searching for a sign of Zens. Nothing. He’d abandoned watching Roberto’s mental state while he was unconscious. It was too dangerous to approach Roberto while Zens was awake, but if Ezaara didn’t help him, he’d soon be dead.
A Crow’s News
Someone rapped on the door. “Come in,” Lars called, putting down his spoon.
The door opened to admit Seppi, leader of the blue guards, carrying a dead
