those rigid, soulless bodies?”
His spell pulled at me to answer. “They…” I tried to resist. It pried into me, dragging the words out. “They were…they were everywhere. Their skin was pale and gray. Thin—like parchment. Their bodies were caved and sunken. Everything inside them had dried up. The grass was gone. The trees were dust. The smell was,” I drew a breath and shook my head, “indescribable.”
“I have no doubt. Your attack on King Draken was most impressive as well. Infiltrating the mind of your enemy’s ruler and condemning him to a life of madness. I imagine making the catalyst of Rella’s suffering endure such torment was incredibly gratifying.”
“It was.”
“Any Shinree capable of such power as you should be King.”
“King? Why the hell would I want that?”
“It might have made your mother proud.”
The mud-dried hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. “My mother died a long time ago.”
“Apparently, she died without instructing you how emotion can pervert the outcome of your spell. That the larger and darker the working the more energy it needs. The more life it takes.” A sudden spout of anger tightened his voice. “Did she prepare you at all? Or was your mother remiss in teaching you the very basic rules of magic?”
“My mother was remiss in a lot of things.”
“Then you have no respect for the woman that gave you life? V’loria Troy was a gifted healer. She held an esteemed title.”
“V’loria Troy cast on King Raynan’s whim. Taking life from one man and using it to heal another that the
he
deemed more deserving. How can I respect that?”
“She was a King’s Healer.”
“She was a King’s whore.”
Taren stood. She came at me through the muddy water with strides too quick and sure for someone with a hole in their leg. “Did you love her?”
“Who? My mother?”
He grunted like I was stupid. “Aylagar.”
I clamped my mouth shut and ground my teeth on the answer. I wasn’t about to let him pull the past out of me like it meant nothing, like I hadn’t spent years trying to hold it in.
“Well?” he goaded me.
“Why are you doing this?”
“To find out what kind of man you are.”
“I’m going to smile when I cut you. Does that tell you anything?”
He heaved Taren’s body in a great sigh. “I need to know if you’re capable of crawling out from inside that grave of self-inflicted pity you’ve buried yourself in long enough to be useful. Or, are you nothing more than a disgraceful waste of my time?” He gave me no chance to reply. “You’ve lied to yourself so long, Troy, you’ve forgotten the truth. You didn’t care about her. You were last in a long line of playthings for a privileged, lonely Queen. You knew that. And that’s why you drained the life out of her body and never looked back. Because she was nothing more than a soft, warm place for you to—”
“Yes,” I growled, cutting him off. “Yes, I loved her…you fucking bastard.”
“Nice,” he purred happily. “You loved her and you killed her anyway.”
I closed my eyes against the look on Taren’s face. But I couldn’t block out the slow, satisfied laugh the man was pushing out of her throat. The sound was an unmistakable show of approval, a genuine release of pleasure at my expense. It felt like the point of a sword pushing into my skin. And the harder the laugh came, the further the sword pushed in; twisting and turning, digging at old wounds and making them new again, stripping away the layers and leaving me with only the raw, ugly memories.
His unrelenting, cruel amusement did something else as well. It kindled an unintentional fire deep within me. The flames burned hot and fast. Igniting the very things his spell had worked so hard to dampen, wrath came around again. Aggression was set loose.
I felt a
crack
as his spell on me shattered.
No longer restrained, emotion and intent moved through me like blood flowing to a sleeping limb and I
His spell pulled at me to answer. “They…” I tried to resist. It pried into me, dragging the words out. “They were…they were everywhere. Their skin was pale and gray. Thin—like parchment. Their bodies were caved and sunken. Everything inside them had dried up. The grass was gone. The trees were dust. The smell was,” I drew a breath and shook my head, “indescribable.”
“I have no doubt. Your attack on King Draken was most impressive as well. Infiltrating the mind of your enemy’s ruler and condemning him to a life of madness. I imagine making the catalyst of Rella’s suffering endure such torment was incredibly gratifying.”
“It was.”
“Any Shinree capable of such power as you should be King.”
“King? Why the hell would I want that?”
“It might have made your mother proud.”
The mud-dried hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. “My mother died a long time ago.”
“Apparently, she died without instructing you how emotion can pervert the outcome of your spell. That the larger and darker the working the more energy it needs. The more life it takes.” A sudden spout of anger tightened his voice. “Did she prepare you at all? Or was your mother remiss in teaching you the very basic rules of magic?”
“My mother was remiss in a lot of things.”
“Then you have no respect for the woman that gave you life? V’loria Troy was a gifted healer. She held an esteemed title.”
“V’loria Troy cast on King Raynan’s whim. Taking life from one man and using it to heal another that the
he
deemed more deserving. How can I respect that?”
“She was a King’s Healer.”
“She was a King’s whore.”
Taren stood. She came at me through the muddy water with strides too quick and sure for someone with a hole in their leg. “Did you love her?”
“Who? My mother?”
He grunted like I was stupid. “Aylagar.”
I clamped my mouth shut and ground my teeth on the answer. I wasn’t about to let him pull the past out of me like it meant nothing, like I hadn’t spent years trying to hold it in.
“Well?” he goaded me.
“Why are you doing this?”
“To find out what kind of man you are.”
“I’m going to smile when I cut you. Does that tell you anything?”
He heaved Taren’s body in a great sigh. “I need to know if you’re capable of crawling out from inside that grave of self-inflicted pity you’ve buried yourself in long enough to be useful. Or, are you nothing more than a disgraceful waste of my time?” He gave me no chance to reply. “You’ve lied to yourself so long, Troy, you’ve forgotten the truth. You didn’t care about her. You were last in a long line of playthings for a privileged, lonely Queen. You knew that. And that’s why you drained the life out of her body and never looked back. Because she was nothing more than a soft, warm place for you to—”
“Yes,” I growled, cutting him off. “Yes, I loved her…you fucking bastard.”
“Nice,” he purred happily. “You loved her and you killed her anyway.”
I closed my eyes against the look on Taren’s face. But I couldn’t block out the slow, satisfied laugh the man was pushing out of her throat. The sound was an unmistakable show of approval, a genuine release of pleasure at my expense. It felt like the point of a sword pushing into my skin. And the harder the laugh came, the further the sword pushed in; twisting and turning, digging at old wounds and making them new again, stripping away the layers and leaving me with only the raw, ugly memories.
His unrelenting, cruel amusement did something else as well. It kindled an unintentional fire deep within me. The flames burned hot and fast. Igniting the very things his spell had worked so hard to dampen, wrath came around again. Aggression was set loose.
I felt a
crack
as his spell on me shattered.
No longer restrained, emotion and intent moved through me like blood flowing to a sleeping limb and I
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