“You’re one of Paxton’s lackeys, I presume,” I said.
He smiled. “I’m in charge here.”
“And you are?”
“It doesn’t matter who I am. I know who you are. A co-conspirator with the Ballengers—”
“Conspirator to what? You have no—”
He reached out and clutched my neck. Rage pulsed in his fingers. Die tomorrow, Kazi. Whatever game he’s playing, learn it. Jase still needs you. And now it seemed other Ballengers might too.
“Listen carefully,” he ordered. “Unless you tell me exactly what I want to know, you’ll face a rope just like all the other conspirators we’ve already hanged. Do you understand?”
Already hanged? My mind sprinted like a gazelle, trying to grasp what he was saying. Was he mad? Ballengers? Had he executed Ballengers?
“I thought that would get your attention.”
I resisted swallowing. Resisted drawing in a breath. I met his stare. Blink last, Kazi. Push lightly. Attempt to bring him back to reality. I began to recite kingdom protocol.
“You are in violation of Alliance treaties by—”
He pulled me away from the guards and slammed me up against the wall, his grip on my neck tightening. “Where is he?” he hissed. The room quieted in an instant, and I struggled to breathe. Everyone was watching now. “You yelled a command to his horse! To both horses! What did you say?”
“Run,” I rasped.
He loosened his grip. “Run where?”
“Anywhere. Just run. Get away. I don’t know where they went.”
Which was true. And while I thought he saw the truth in what I said, he was not pleased by this news. It was as if I was his last hope of finding Jase. Maybe that was why they finally pulled me from the cell. Their other efforts hadn’t panned out. His nostrils flared, and his eyes widened, making him look crazed. His fingers tightened on my neck again. If he couldn’t find Jase, my neck would do. I guessed that I could take him down—I’d only have one shot at it—but I knew that I would die in the process. I was too weak and surrounded by too many to fight them all off.
“We found him!” a voice called.
The general released his hold on me, and I gasped for breath. His interest shifted to someone else in the crowded room. I recognized the voice and turned. Paxton and three other men wove their way through soldiers. Paxton’s appearance had changed dramatically. He wasn’t his usual cool, polished self. His normally neat ponytail was oily and tangled and his clothes rumpled and dirty. A sheen of gritty sweat coated his face. As he pushed through the milling soldiers who had pressed closer for a better look, he spotted me. His steps faltered for a moment, but then he pushed past me too. He threw a sack on the table. “At least we found what was left of him. It looks like he fell down a ravine and animals got to him before we did.”
Another man confirmed Paxton’s story, saying it appeared that a pack of hyenas had gotten to him.
Banques left my side and looked at the sack on the table. “This?” He lifted the sack and turned it upside down. A swollen, blood-smeared hand fell out, landing with a thud on the table. Oleez gagged and turned away. Several of the soldiers blanched.
I leaned back against the wall, sweat springing to my palms. “No,” I said. “It’s not him. That is not his hand. That is not the Patrei’s hand.” The words clanged over and over again in my head. It is not him.
“Really? How can you be so sure?” Banques replied, his tone suddenly turned sickeningly sweet. “Come, take a closer look.” I didn’t move. He crooked his head to the side, looking it over. “I agree, it’s in pretty bad shape, but I guess that’s to be expected with animals fighting over it.” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and flipped the mutilated hand over, then smiled at Paxton. “At last. Well done, men.” Paxton’s attention turned to me, stone steady, silent, none of his usual cocky replies rolling off his tongue, but his last warning months back at the arena skipped through me again: Tread carefully, cousin. Remember, everyone is not always what they seem to be. Paxton had hunted down his own kin? Was he more vile than I had even imagined?
“No,” I said more firmly. “You’re wrong. And you will be answering to the Patrei. He is the law of Hell’s Mouth and—”
“Not anymore.” Banques picked up the hand carefully with the handkerchief and tugged at one of the fingers. “Here, it’s only a cheap piece of jewelry to me. You can have it. Call it your trophy.” He ga
ve the bloated finger another strong yank, pulled something free, and threw it at me. It clinked across the floor and came to rest at my feet. Something gold. I stooped to pick it up but then couldn’t stand again.
I held the ring in my palm.
A gold signet ring.
Jase’s ring.
This is just the beginning, Kazi.
I promise.