Cursors's Fury

“It won’t change what will happen. But there’s no reason you have to be uncomfortable until your trial. No reason you should die in fever and agony while you wait.”

The captive woman shuddered. Her voice came out in a rasp. “Kill me. Or get out.”

Amara folded her arms. “Several thousand legionares are already dead thanks to your master. Thousands more will die in the coming battles. Women, children, the elderly and infirm will also suffer and die. In wars, they always do.”

Rook said nothing.

“You attempted to murder Isana of Calderon. A woman whose personal courage, kindness, and integrity I have seen demonstrated more than once. A woman I count my friend. Count Calderon here is her brother. And, of course, I believe you are acquainted with her nephew. With what they have all given in service to the Realm.”

Rook breathed in short, strangled rasps, but did not speak.

“You face death for what you have done,” Amara said. “I have never been one to believe in spirits bound to earth for their crimes in life. Neither would I wish to have such deeds as yours on my conscience.”

No response. Amara frowned. “Rook, if you cooperate with us, it’s possible that we can end this war before it destroys us all. It would save thousands of lives. Surely you can see that.”

When the spy did not reply, Amara leaned in closer, making eye contact. “If you cooperate, if your help makes the difference, the First Lord may suspend your execution. Your life may not be a pleasant one-but you will live.”

Rook drew in a shuddering breath and lifted her head enough to stare at Amara. Tears, absent until then, began to streak down her cheeks. “I can’t help you, Countess.”

“You can,” Amara said. “You must.”

Rook ground her teeth in agony. “Don’t you see? I can’t.”

“You will,” Amara said.

Rook shook her head, a slight motion of weary despair and closed her eyes.

“I’ve never tortured anyone,” Amara said quietly. “I know the theory. I’d rather resolve this peaceably. But it’s up to you. I can go away and come back with a healer. Or I can come back with a knife.”

The prisoner said nothing for a long moment. Then she inhaled, licked her lips, and said, “If you heat the knife, it’s easier to avoid mistakes. The wound sears shut. You can cause a great deal more pain with far less damage, provided I do not faint.”

Amara only stared at Rook for a long, silent moment.

“Go get your knife, Countess,” Rook whispered. “The sooner we begin, the sooner it will be over with.”

Amara bit her lip and looked at Bernard. He stared at Rook, his face troubled, and shook his head.

“Countess,” murmured Lady Aquitaine. “May I speak to you?”

Rook looked up at the sound of her voice, body tensing.

Amara frowned but nodded to Lady Aquitaine, who stood silhouetted in the doorway, and turned to step close to her.

“Thank you,” Lady Aquitaine said quietly. “Countess, you are an agent of the Crown. It is your profession, and so you are familiar with many of the same things as the prisoner. You are not, however, personally familiar with Kalarus Brencis, how he operates his holdings and uses his clients and those in his employ.”

“If there is something you think I should know, it might be more productive if you told it to me.”

Lady Aquitaine’s eyes managed to be cold and perfectly restrained at the same time. “She asked you to kill her when you saw her?”

Amara frowned. “Yes. How did you know?”

“I did not,” Lady Aquitaine replied. “But it is a position one can understand, given a few key facts.”

Amara nodded. “I’m listening.”

“First,” Lady Aquitaine said, “assume that Kalarus does not trust her any farther than he can kick her, if it comes to that.”

Amara frowned. “He has to.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s operating independently of him most of the time,” Amara said. “Her role in the capital had her away from Kalarus for months at a time. She could have betrayed him, and he would never have known about it until long after.”

“Precisely,” Lady Aquitaine said. “And what might possibly compel her to perfect loyalty despite such opportunity, hmm?”

“I-” Amara began.

“What might compel her to deny potential clemency? To urge you to finish her as quickly as possible? To ask you to kill her outright from the very beginning?”

Amara shook her head. “I don’t know. I take it you do.”

Lady Aquitaine gave Amara a chill little smile. “One more hint. Assume that she believes that she is being watched, by one measure or another. That if she turns against him, Kalarus will learn of it, and that regardless of how far away she is, he will be able to retaliate.”

Amara felt her belly twist with nauseated horror as it dawned on her what Lady Aquitaine was speaking about. “He holds a hostage against her loyalty. Someone close to her. If she turns against him, he’ll kill the hostage.”

Lady Aquitaine inclined her head. “Behold our spy. A young woman. Unwed, I am certain, and without a family able to support or protect her. The hostage must be someone she is willing to die for-willing to face torture and agony for. My guess…”