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He didn’t though, instead bringing the cane down across her already shredded back.

“We massacred an entire tribe of people looking for it. Did you know that?”

Sofia didn’t know what face she made—too lost in the pain—but she heard the general’s laugh.

“You did know them, didn’t you? Did we murder your friends? Even your little resistance base was found because we were out there, looking for yourdragon. Now tell me how you called it.”

Her lips were nearly numb, but she formed the words slowly and deliberately, making sure he heard them. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He brought the cane down again and she let out an involuntary groan. The pain overtook her body and she thought she might choke on it.

Something cracked inside of her. She only realized she’d crumpled to the ground when she felt the cold press of stone against her cheek and she closed her eyes, letting it soak through her skin like a balm.

She embraced the blackness and waited for her mind to give up and drift away. The pain would stop eventually. It always did.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-NINE

FOX

Fox shook off the grips of the guards as they attempted to drag him from the interrogation chamber. He kept his shoulders rigid, back straight, as he left, not pausing his stride as the door closed behind him. His father wouldn’t listen to him. He wouldn’t listen to reason. He wouldn’t get any information out of Sofia, but he’d kill her in the process of trying. So Fox would get the one person that his father would have to listen to: the chief commander.

The chief commander didn’t question Fox’s intentions when he burst into his office and explained that his father was compromised. Fox was protecting the best interests of the military, Sofia had information, and her death wouldn’t get them anywhere.

The soldiers that had left the room on his father’s command were stationed at the door when Fox returned. They paled under the chief commander’s glare.

“Open the door,” Chief Commander Harlow barked, not bothering to even slow down, assuming his order would be obeyed. The taller soldier—a high specialist that Fox vaguely recognized—jumped at the command.

Fox kept his eyes down as he followed the chief commander into the room. A small voice in his mind told him his father wouldknow—if he looked Fox in the eyes, he would knowwhyFox had stopped the interrogation. But his father only had eyes for the chief commander as the taller man strode into the room with an air of authority rivaled only by the king.

“General Ocon, stand down.”

“Chief Commander, sir,” his father’s voice was rough and low. Fox glanced at him only briefly. His face was splattered with blood, skin tinged pink, and hair disheveled. And as the chief commander kneeled down, Fox couldn’t stop his eyes from following, taking in the crumpled form of Sofia. She was covered in blood, and Fox had to swallow back his rage. He kept his face neutral even as he held in his own scream.

He was going to kill his father for this. Fox had never been so sure of anything in his life, and the anticipation of knowing one day he would see the life drain from his father’s eyes—that he would be the cause of it—gave him the strength to not lunge at his father now and wrap his hands around his throat.

The chief commander lifted Sofia’s head, moving the matted curls from her face. He picked up her left hand and examined the stub of a finger and Fox heard the sharp intake of breath.

“King’s balls, it is you.” The chief commander stood before Fox could even register the foul curse. “Take her to my personal interrogation room. I wish to speak with her myself.”

Fox jumped at the order, along with the two guards. They unchained her and Fox picked her up, feeling only slightly queasy as her blood soaked through his tunic. They took the direct tunnel that led from the prison into the chief commander’s house, the two other soldiers leading the way. She only stirred briefly as they walked, but he was happy she didn’t wake. He didn’t want her to see him like this—covered in her blood and escorting her to her next prison cell.

The moment he’d laid her out in the new cell and one guard had re-chained her hands, he snapped at the other to fetch medical supplies.

“If the chief commander wants to speak with her,” he snarled when the guard hesitated, “you better ensure she’s alive for it.”

The room was small, but it was warmer than the last they’d been in, a fire already burning merrily in the hearth. There was an ornate and cushioned chair in the corner, clearly made for the chief commander’s own comfort while interrogating his prisoners. There was still a small rack against the wall, lined with various equipment and weapons. This was no less a torture chamber than the one before.

Fox stared at the rack while he waited. He wanted to check over Sofia himself, brush the hair from her face, but he didn’t deserve to touch her. Eventually, the guard returned with a healer and a bag of supplies.

The weathered man with his hunched back and wiry hair stripped off Sofia’s shirt, not bothering with her modesty. Fox averted his eyes and snapped at the two guards, sending them away on orders to prepare their reports.

And then he watched as the healer dabbed away the blood, stitching up the worst of the wounds and smoothing on a balm to keep infection at bay.

With the man’s back turned, Fox made quick work of perusing the man’s bag, grabbing out a few supplies for himself. He still hadn’t admitted to anyone that he had stitches running across his stomach and back. The wounds were easy to explain, the treatment he’d received from the non-citizen tribe wouldn’t be.

He had just slipped a small tin of numbing powder into his pocket when the healer turned back to Fox with the smallest of frowns. “She has a few broken ribs, but they aren’t life threatening. The salve will stop the infection from setting in long enough that you’ll have time to get your information.”

Because that’s all that mattered.