Page 31 of A Crown Without Mercy

“I’ll wait up, or not,” Calista joked.

Lagar hung from the chains binding his wrists, unable to stay conscious for more than a few fleeting moments. He glanced around the cell and watched his shadow being cast onto the damp, tinged wall before him. The gentle, flickering flames could barely alleviate the darkness, however, each time he moved, as did his shadow, like a phantom of death mimicking him.

Riordan, Kieran, and Nicolai walked down the spiraling, stone staircase leading to the dungeons below.

“He will not talk. We’ve tortured him for weeks now,” Nicolai offered.

“He’ll talk—eventually,” Kieran replied.

“Do you think the rumor amongst them has any validity?” Nicolai asked.

“I’m not sure? I assume his mate would say anything to save his life,” Kieran replied.

“We’ll find out momentarily.” Riordan looked to the guards as they approached the door and nodded.

As they entered the cell, Kieran looked at Riordan and Nicolai and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can’t stand the fucking stench of them.”

Nicolai stepped over a dank puddle as he walked to a wood table having been lined with various instruments of torture; he picked up a few of the objects and tossed them back down.

Lagar gasped and clenched his teeth together, doing his best to not cry out when the blow from Kieran’s foot radiated across his torso. “He’s still with the living,” Kieran offered.

Riordan walked in a slow circle around his listless body, listening to each shallow, raspy breath. “I want answers, Lagar. What do you know?”

“I—will give you—nothing, Nosferatu scant,” he replied, his words barely audible.

Riordan let out a nefarious chuckle. “Scant?How torturous of you.”

“You ma-may as well kill me,” Lagar mumbled.

“That would be too easy for you. We want answers.” Nicolai chose a long dagger and spun it around.

Riordan grabbed a fistful of Lagar’s hair and wrenched his head back. “We found out some interesting news. It seems you have been searching for a purebred Ascelin, and Ranan has been communicating with the Faye.”

Unable to control his innate reaction, Lagar’s eyes met Riordan’s, and it was clear he had struck a nerve.

“It seems the rumors are true,” Riordan stated.

Nicolai walked up behind him and stared at his partially skinned back. He then slid the flat side of the blade across the bloody, exposed layers of tissue which forced Lagar’s body to lurch.

“I will skin you alive, should you choose to keep your mouth shut,” Nicolai threatened.

Riordan nodded to Nicolai who slowly cut another layer of skin, what little of it remained, from his lower back.

Lagar let out a throaty, pain-filled roar, and wrapped the chains in his fists, trying to control his reaction.

“Tell me, and I will put you out of your misery,” Riordan offered.

Nicolai tossed the piece of skin to the side and looked at Riordan. “Maybe we need up our game?”

“Bring her,” Riordan shouted, in the door’s direction.

Lagar looked up with blurred vision as the door made a loud clank; its metal bottom scraping across the floor as it opened. The guards shoved another Lycan into the cell and closed the door.

Riordan grabbed the female and tossed her to the floor at Lagar’s feet. “I believe you will talk now.”

Lagar refused to acknowledge the female. “Who is she?” he mumbled.

Kieran wrenched her to her feet, drug his blade up her chest, and across her throat. “Speak or I will do to her what my brother is doing to you.”

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