Page 77 of Cage of Starlight
Iri paces toward them, but Sena speaks up before he arrives. “Before you untie us . . .”
There’s a sudden slackening of the rope around Tory’s chest, and it falls onto his lap. Sena stands in one quick push, hands raised in surrender, lifting the blindfold from his eyes.
Tory gapes.
Iri smashes his thumb rings together to make sparks and has flame floating above his palm in an instant. Riese leaps to his feet, predator-fast. Judge must have found the knife an unsatisfactory threat last time, because he pulls a gun from his belt and levels it at Sena.
“Whoa! Hey!” Surging to his feet, Tory skids between them. He’s never tried throwing the energy from a bullet, but there’s a first time for everything.
Iri’s flame flickers out. “That’s on me,” he says to Riese, quiet. “I failed to consider that he could decay the rope when I bound him. He must have found a way to put it in contact with his skin.”
In the gray light, Sena is parchment-pale and greasy with sweat. “I unbound us shortly after you arrived so we could free ourselves if you proved to be a threat. That I didn’t attack was a gesture of good faith.”
“Judge,” Riese says. “Lower it.”
The gun’s barrel points at the ground, but the air rings with tension.
Riese breaks it. “It was my oversight as well. Don’t blame yourself. We haven’t dealt with a Seed of this type before. Iri, if you could escort them to the fire? Dinner should be ready soon. Do whatever you must to defend yourself if the officer tries anything.”
“I did not need your permission,” Iri says, lips twisted with malice.
Riese massages his temples. “Docontrol yourself. I would prefer not to have to break up a third unprovoked murder attempt. Judge? With me.”
Judge’s low grumbling suggests that he thinks the murder attempt was plenty provoked, but he follows obediently at Riese’s invitation.
Iri’s shoulders go up when Riese is gone. “This way,” he says unnecessarily. “You go first.”
“Tory,” Sena says before he can obey.
Tory freezes. “Huh?”
“The box. Look.” Sena gestures at the box Riese was sitting on. There’s text stamped along the side, the same text that was on the sides of the boxes guarded by the Arlunian cell they slaughtered yesterday. This must be where they were delivering the supplies.
Iri’s hands twitch, like he’s aching to make sparks.
Tory shakes his head. To Iri, he says, “We ran into the people who took these supplies. They—not all of them made it out.” Seventeen, was it? Maybe eighteen corpses.
“They knew the risks.” Iri’s expression cools. “We all do. We’re working toward something more important than any one life.” He gestures again to the path ahead. “Please.”
Tory steps around him and walks. For once, Sena is the one trying to keep up, gait unsteady and eyes trained on the ground.
That awful, helpless dread creeps back, slick like oil. Tory’s hands ache to heal, but of course Sena would be the one person his healing doesn’t work on. “Your Westrian is excellent,” he tells Iri, to break the silence.
Iri’s voice is flat. “I was born on the border. It was not a proficiency I sought, but it has proven useful.”
They pace along the leaf-strewn path toward the fire blazing between the trees, and when he turns, Tory could swear he sees the sparks of it in Iri’s eyes.
“My mother lived at the border,” Sena says.
Iri’s eyes narrow. “We all know of your mother. A traitoress who lies in the bed of a warmonger.”
Sena’s mouth clamps shut, and Toryfeelsthe blood leaving his face. Iri knows, then. He knows exactly who Sena is.
He must catch Tory’s expression, because he scoffs. “Riese is not aware. I do not judge whole cloth for one foul stitch. I don’t expect much of you since you come from rotten stock and have served them for years, but I will judge you for your actions.”
“I’m sure you chose your parents, too,” Tory spits. “I’ll bet they’re perfect.”
Iri shrugs. “I would not know. Your people killed them.”
