Page 147 of Prince of Darkness and Deceit

My heart hardens against him, but a lone tear slides down my cheek anyway, mourning how far we’ve fallen.

Boots shuffle. My eyes snap to Fief as he pulls a single key from his pocket.

“I have to say, Judan must smile on me to give me the honor of leading your interrogation.” He inserts the key into the lock.

Rusted hinges screech as the door swings open.

“The God of Order will curse you for this injustice,” I manage, even as my heart hammers against my sternum.

Fief tsks. “I don’t think He will.”

The door clangs shut behind him. I swallow bile as he steps closer, his evil grin promising pain.

Then the torture begins.

29

It starts with a slap.

My teeth cut the inside of my cheek on impact. Bells ring in my head, but they turn into roars when a swift kick to my hip sends me sprawling across the dirt floor.

Face pressed to the ground, the smell of vomit and urine fills my nostrils, making me gag then cry out when Brother Fief grabs the back of my hair and pulls. Chains rattle, tripping me at my ankles when I stumble.

“Where are the Fae going?” Fief’s spittle hits my cheeks as he hovers over me.

“I don’t know,” I hiss, my eyes stinging.

“Wrong answer.” He lands a punch to my lower back, and a gush of tears runs down my face.

I hunch over to find reprieve, but Fief’s firm grip holds me upright. He strikes my ribs.

Stars flare in my vision, and I cry out. I suck in desperate breaths, each one causing a fresh ache to bloom.

“WHERE ARE THE FAE GOING?” he shouts.

I bare my teeth.

“I DON’T KNOW,” I scream back.

It’s a mistake. I know that the moment the sick grin twists Brother Fief’s lips.

“Well, we’ll just have to find out what you do know.”

Another punch. This one to my face.

A kick to my knees sends me crashing to the ground.

Then more strikes to my hips, sides, and legs.

I curl in on myself, whimpering and crying out as Fief continues his assault, sending silent, desperate prayers to Ignar, Velmira—any of the six Gods or Goddesses to save me.

My magic stirs, but it’s still suppressed. It cannot erase the pain from Fief’s attacks. There’s no end to this suffering. Not until Fief decides there is.

When my lip splits and blood trickles down my chin, he pauses. I believe he might be done. But he’s just getting started.

Seconds blur into minutes.

Minutes bleed into hours.