Page 70 of The Rebel's Prize

He smiled. "Well, at least that's something." He cast a glance at the bed. "You know, they won't be expecting us to reemerge for some time."

She rolled her eyes. "You need to reserve your energy."

"Maybe it would give me energy."

She pushed him away, laughing. "Lie down, Truth Seeker. Think about how you're going to get Deandra to talk."

* * *

Chloe's stomach didn't feel any easier upon returning to the brig. But she wasn't going to let Lucien talk to Deandra alone.

The lieutenant who'd assisted them before must have gone off duty, because the man seated behind the desk watching the prisoners was Lieutenant James. Istvan was slumped on the small bench in his cell that served as a bed and didn't look up as Lieutenant James stood to greet them.

Deandra, however, was once again standing by the front of her cell, and the look she gave Chloe was no friendlier than it had been previously.

"Major. Lieutenant. Have you come to speak to Mamsille Noirene?" Lieutenant James asked.

"Yes. But I think we'll use the interrogation room. Can you unlock it so I can look inside, please?" Lucien asked.

Lieutenant James nodded and crossed to the door, ignoring Deandra, who turned her head to watch him as he passed. Light shimmered over the door as he placed his hand above the lock. "After you, sir."

Chloe followed Lucien past the lieutenant. The interrogation room was windowless like the rest of the brig, but earth lights on the walls lit it well enough. A rectangular table was bolted to the floor in the center of the room. On the side farthest from the door was a single chair, also bolted to the floor. On the nearer side were two identical chairs that weren't. The table had a large metal ring protruding from its surface on the side of the bolted chair. For the shackles to be hooked to, she realized. Like the ring in the wall of the cell.

She shivered briefly. When she'd visited Charl in prison for the final time, they had done her the favor of letting him forgo the shackles. Not that it had made much difference. They had embraced briefly, and after that, their meeting had gone downhill. Charl sobbing and desperate, and Chloe moving between heartbreak and disbelief, futilely trying to offer her husband some comfort. He'd asked for her forgiveness, and she had pretended to give it. She'd sent the servants away on her return home and spent the night alone, curled on the sofa near the fire in the living room, unable to get warm, racked by nausea and terror. The next morning, Lucien had arrived to tell her he thought she should leave, and her life had changed forever.

"This will do nicely," Lucien said, glancing around. "All right, Lieutenant, move the prisoner. Lieutenant de Roche can call her sanctii to assist."

The lieutenant shot her a half-wary glance. Had he not realized she had a sanctii? But he just said, "Yes, sir. Lieutenant, could you come with me?"

They all trooped back out of the room to stand by his desk while Chloe called Octarus and explained where they wanted him to take Deandra.

She didn't put up any resistance when he entered her cell, though she cast one frantic glance back toward Istvan's cell when Octarus first led her out of hers and into the interrogation room.

But Istvan was still on the bench, and from the way Deandra's face fell, Chloe had to assume she couldn't see him from where she stood. And she couldn’t bring herself to feel any sympathy for Deandra as they followed Octarus into the interrogation room.

The sanctii moved quickly, fastening Deandra's shackles to the ring in the table as they watched him.

[Thank you,] Chloe said to him as she and Lucien took their places.

[Stay?] he asked in return.

[Yes. But out of sight. We don't want her focused on you. Lucien needs to work.]

Octarus nodded, then vanished. As soon as he did, Deandra's gaze focused back on Chloe like a snake watching prey.

Lucien straightened beside her, easing his chair forward slightly so he was closer to her.

Deandra laughed. "Don't worry, my lord Truth Seeker," she said, lifting her hands the scant inch the bolt allowed. "It's not as if I can do much like this, is it? I won't hurt your wife."

The last part had the ring of truth, but Chloe didn't relax, just kept her focus on Deandra, waiting for Lucien to begin.

"I think you're in quite enough trouble as it is, Mamsille Noirene, without adding assault of a marquesse to your crimes. Though I guess in some ways we can probably already add that one."

"Oh?" Deandra said, head tilting. "I don't believe I've crossed paths with your wife, my lord. At least not in many years. I believe the last time was in an inn, when she was still a student. We had some fun."

Chloe wouldn't have described that encounter as fun. The night before her Ascension, Deandra had insisted on telling her fortune, and the whole thing had been...unsettling. But Deandra's words felt true. Which meant if it had been her at the parliament, she had erased the memory.

"Very well," Lucien said. "We'll set that matter aside for now."

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