Page 65 of Flameborne: Fury (Emberquell Academy #2)

It was no surprise that they would choose to stand against us. But the Aetherean weren’t only rare, they were notorious loners, incredibly sensitive to the emotions of others, even those they hadn’t bonded. Standing on a battlefield would be torment to them.

To have one join a warring faction against us was stunning.

Let alone four. That small fact changed the entire landscape of this war, and filled me with trepidation.

But also relief. Because it explained how our most recent enemies seemed to coordinate their attacks—and retreats—so perfectly.

And how our efforts to take the front so far had been met with such seamless maneuvering that we could never gain traction.

The first time we had advanced, we’d almost been surrounded. They’d kept me sweating ever since.

Shit.

“Is this true?” Gault growled at me.

“It makes sense,” I replied reluctantly.

Gault’s eyes narrowed as he turned back to the Fetch. “Do your people enjoy this… alliance?”

The Fetch shook her head. “We have no need. Our land creates a natural barrier and our reputation discourages confidence. Our neighbors have already learned to respect our boundaries. If they win, they’ll leave us alone.

And if you do… well, we will defeat you without tying ourselves to the soul-suckers,” she said viciously.

It was said that while the Aethereans strengthened and enhanced any creature they bonded, their strength came from subtly pilfering some of the life-essence of the bonded one.

Did her comment mean that was true? Or was it just a curse on a people that she clearly despised?

I huffed, amused by her arrogance, but Gault’s expression went dark with loathing.

Quick as a snake, he stood and took her by the neck, lifting her off her feet and shaking her like a doll. She tried to fight, but his grip was too tight, and just as she had with me, she ended up only gripping his wrist and fighting for air while he held her by the throat and snarled in her face.

“The only reason you still live is because of my mercy, bitch. You will not live a moment beyond your usefulness—and your people will not survive beyond my descent. Answer my questions without taunts or barbs, or I will prove to you how powerless you are by turning my men on you to rip your flesh from your bones.”

Still gripping his wrist, she nodded. Or tried to. She couldn’t breathe and he was holding her entire bodyweight by that one fist clamped at her throat.

Despite my natural aversion to harming females, I couldn’t say I regretted his aggression. The Fetch were a massive threat to us—if for nothing else than that they could inform our enemies about us. Having one of them caught and informing was a coup.

Mind you, she wouldn’t be informing much longer if he didn’t let her breathe soon.

“Gault,” I said quietly. “She possesses very useful information—insight that could be the key to us finally taking this battle. If you kill her…”

He stared at me for a moment as if he were considering whether or not my words were disrespectful. Then he dropped her without a word, snorting when she landed on the ground with a thump and a wheeze. Then he turned on his heel and went back to his lounge.

I grabbed her upper arm so that she couldn’t flee.

Her limb was so narrow I circled her bicep completely, my fingers overlapping in the fist. Her lithe stature tempted me to complacency.

But I’d heard how easily a Fetch could melt into shadows to escape, even in broad daylight.

I didn’t know if the rumors were true, but if she’d stayed hidden here for three days, there seemed no point testing them.

“I weary of this,” Gault muttered. “Take her. Interrogate her. Whatever you need to do, you have my permission. Get the information from her. Make sure she doesn’t escape. Then go win this fucking war so we can return home.”

“Yes, Sire, I just—”

“Do not forget that I hold you personally responsible for her, Melek. Do not let her escape. Kill her first.”

“Yes. Of course. Only—”

“Only what?”

I kept my eyes low, gritting my teeth. “Only… I am supposed to return to the front tomorrow. The information she provides may pave the way for our victory. But I cannot be in two places at once.”

Gault looked up from where he’d been scratching at a stain on his tunic. His eyes were gleaming, and his half-smile had an edge that made the hair on my neck stand up.

“The great warrior and General, Melek Handras, admits there is something he cannot do? How can it be?” he drawled. “The legends are clear, Melek: You regularly achieve the impossible. Or… haven’t you heard?”

I didn’t back down. These dark moods hit Gault every so often, and the Fetch’s taunts had no doubt landed a lot harder than he’d let on. So I swallowed back the curse and shrugged.

“I’ve told you how dangerous it is to listen to rumor, Gault,” I said with a wry smile.

The man snorted and flapped one hand. “Figure it out, Melek. Do what needs to be done.”

“I would just like your permission—”

“I said, figure it out. And bathe her while you’re at it. She reeks. If I’m to question her again or be in her presence, she needs to be clean.”

“Yes, Sire,” I said through my teeth, bowing to the King, and forcing the Fetch to her knees in front of him, before turning and pulling her out of his presence, my head spinning both with the knowledge she’d provided that needed further exploration, and with the problem of what the fuck was I supposed to do with her?

I was about to step out of the tent when I realized that while she was pale, there was new color in the high points of her cheeks, and we were about to cross the tent city.

I couldn’t risk losing her. And I didn’t want her dead—yet. Which meant I couldn’t risk her taunting any of the others who would leap into a rage at the smallest excuse.

I turned back to Gault, and cleared my throat.

“What?”

“You said anything … Can I make use of one of your ball gags?”

Gault’s head snapped up, his brows high—then he broke into a throaty laugh. “Melek Handras, Purveyor of the Impossible, and Pervert. Please, be my guest.”

He nodded towards one of the chests in the corner and I dragged her in that direction, ignoring the look of horror on her face as I used one hand to flip the heavy lid of the chest open and stir the contents within until I found what I was looking for—a ball-gag the size of a small apple on a pair of leather straps.

Her eyes went wide as I turned her around and shoved the ball into her mouth—or tried to. At first she fought me like a horse resisting the bit—teeth clenched and lips pressed tightly down.

“Take it, Fetch,” I growled. “It’s this, or death. There are no alternatives.”

Her brow furrowed, but a moment later she let go of her breath and reluctantly opened her mouth so that the ball slipped in behind her teeth, but over her tongue—keeping her jaw open but her mouth full. Even if she tried to speak, nothing would be discernable.

“Good girl,” I purred, just to piss her off as I turned her to tie the leather straps behind her head, tugging them tight.

A low, angry noise started in her throat that reminded me of a cat.

But I ignored it. Nodding my thanks to Gault one final time, I pulled her hands behind her back and clamped both of her wrists in one hand, while I took a fistful of her hair and the gag-ties in the other and steered her for the door, snapping at the guards outside that we were coming out.

The guards—both those assigned to the royal tent, and the others that we’d sent to circle the perimeter—snapped to attention as I shoved her through the tent flap and out into the camp and we were bathed in the watery sunlight of the Dragtharn plains.

A fist of my men surrounded me the moment we were clear of the King’s guards, all of them surprised and curious when they saw my prisoner, but there wasn’t time to explain.

I marched forward, growling at them to keep eyes out for more intruders, then kept my own gaze peeled for any sign of her comrades that I had no doubt were watching, even if from a distance.

Fucking Fetch.

The sky overhead was mostly gray, matching the rugged boulders and craggy rock formations that pushed out of the dirt here like pimples on the ass of a giant. Formations that became more plentiful, and larger, the closer we got to the hills.

As near as we could measure it, our camp was at the southernmost border where the plains of Dragtharn became rolling forests and met Zaryndar. Our shelters sprawled at the base of a cluster of hills that shielded us from sight on the Zaryndar side.

The battlefront was half a day away and north—beyond Noctharrow Haven, the Dark City.

Positioned at the intersection of the borders of three lands and populated mostly by thieves, it was a haven for refugees, merchants and travelers.

But few within its fortress walls were willing to put their lives on the line for someone else’s nation.

Even the Mercenaries went to Noctharrow to rest and relax.

Most were more concerned with saving their own skins, and as long as they were offered safe passage, wouldn’t fight unless they were being paid coin.

So, we’d taken the city almost effortlessly.

And yet, an hour’s march beyond that, where Zaryndar shared a border with Tuskarria and the plains turned to low mountains surrounded by swampland, we’d finally been forced to slow our advance.

When they weren’t fighting, our soldiers were camped a mile inside the front. But the strategic minds and the King couldn’t be within reach of the front in case we were turned back.

So, I placed the war camp here because the gnarled forest, rocky hills, and strange, scarred land allowed us to place watchers on high ground and in trees, and made the position difficult to approach unseen. At least, by creatures who walked with their feet on the ground.