Zale
The interrogation room smelt like old wood and disinfectant, which was an attempt to make it clean, but it didn't work. The coppery smell of last night's blood was still there. Torches lining the stone hallway cast shaky shadows through the barred window and turned dust motes into slow, uninterested constellations. I sat across from Raft with my hands on the table, fingers moving as if I could crush the truth out of the air. He was tied up and sitting down, with one shoulder slumped and eyes that were red and hard like river stones.
Devon stood just outside the door, a steady figure made of worry and purpose. He would step in if he had to, but he trusted me to keep the line. Andros hovered closer, his face pale. It wasn't because he was afraid of Raft; it was because he was afraid of what I might become if I let my desire for revenge take over.
Raft's mouth moved. He looked like a man who had held a knife in his hands and let it fall. He smelt like smoke and beer, like the woods in the fall. He smelt like someone who used to fish in the creek at dawn and loved simple things. It was an ugly thing to know that his hands had given Emily death.
"You find peace in silence, Raft?" I asked, my voice flat and quiet. He wouldn't have gotten the joke. Since they put him in the cell, he hadn't smiled.
He spat. The wad of spit hit the table and spread out like a small, defiant message. He said, "So it was him then." "Taros' blood is thicker than his loyalty."
"You brought the bad guys to our river," I said. "You linked the Luna's location. You told them where the stores and midwives were, as well as where she liked to walk at night. You told them about the Eastern Creek nest.
He looked up, and for a second, his eyes showed shame and fear like a child's. "They had my mate," he said. "You don't get it."
"You could have come to us," I said. "You could have gone to Devon." You could have come to me.
A thin, bitter laugh from Raft that didn't fit in the small room. "And what do you want me to tell the Alpha? That his warrior slept with Taros's niece? That he "He swallowed hard." "You don't get how things are changing." Taros kept people safe. He gave a coin. He gave them power. He gave them a way to get back the land they said you had taken.
"Did you sell your soul for money?" From the doorway, Devon's voice was a low growl. "You sold our Luna for any reason they gave you?"
"No." Raft's hands were shaking. "Not money." Safety. My mate is Taros' niece. I thought that if I made Taros like me, she would be safe. Taros promised us food and a place to stay. He told her that she would have a higher status and a life beyond the smallness of our hold. It wasn't just my family. A few more. It was little things that went by on a patrol route, telling when the heirs were away. It was a string. I never thought they would He stopped, the memory of the attack cutting through him like a knife.
I said, "You gave them a map." "You told them when. You told them who loved whom and where the babies slept. You told them how to get to Emily.
Raft's shoulders drooped, like a tree that had finally given in to age. "I told them she liked the eastern bank at night." I told them what the healer did. I told them that one night she didn't go to the watch because she knew you would be there.
"You thought you were saving your own." I tried to keep my voice from being affected by the surge of ice and flame that was below it.
"I thought if they kept Taros safe, he would keep me and my mate safe," he said, then rasped, "He told me I wouldn't owe him anything else." He said he would keep her out of trouble. I thought... I thought it was a way to hedge.
"And yet your hedge drove a blade through the one I loved," I said. The words hurt like fire. I wanted to lean forward and feel the lie in his chest with my claws, rip it out, and watch the blood flow like truth. But I stayed still.
Raft's breath caught. He looked at me with a very thin hope. "Alpha, will it be enough if I tell you where Taros keeps his lieutenants?" If I tell you everything
"You took them to Emily." My voice broke. It was no longer a matter of logistics. It had never been. "You can't bargain with me for forgiveness."
There was a canyon of silence between us, and in it I heard the echoes of laughter and promises and the taste of her cookies in my mouth. I took a deep breath and the world settled down.
I said, "Devon." "Get him the chain." Let him feel the cold. Show the pack what it means to betray someone. My voice was steady, like a knife that had been sharpened to a fine point.
Devon's eyes flashed, not with happiness but with the grim determination of a man who would rather bleed than let anger guide him. He moved like a shadow to follow. The chains made a noise. Raft's face crumpled when metal touched his wrist.
"Then question," I said, leaning back and folding my arms. "Answer completely, and I will listen. But there will be no bending the truth.
Raft lowered his head, the least he could do. Finally, he said, "There are safe houses," his voice hoarse. "Caravans have been sent on different routes in the last moon. Under Taros' sigil, supplies and weapons were sent. There is a council in the south, but only Taros and a few elders go. They talked about taking the river and ruining any Alpha who said no. "I swear on any name you want."
"You talk in pieces," I said. "Give me names."
He slowly listed them: small-time leaders, traders, the niece whose marriage he wanted to protect by betraying her, and Taros' connections that ran through his story like dark roots. Taros' name kept coming up, and it was bigger than the others. He talked about men who ate with Taros, laughed at his jokes, and put up his flag by their trenches. He talked about rituals and oaths that were taken with spiced wine.
"And what about the bad guys?" I asked. "Who was in charge of them that night?"
Raft's face turned white. "A witch who works with Taros, Nerine." She says she is a seer. She chanted a moon chant to keep them from turning on their masters. Taros wanted to make you less stable. He wanted to break your loyalty. He wanted fear to be the glue that held everything together.
The familiar pain in my chest grew stronger. The space Emily had made in me was now a hollow centre of strategy and rage. Taros was a neighbouring Alpha whose big smile and grand gestures were the kind of thing people wrote songs about in taverns. He was the kind of Alpha who worked hard to make himself look generous, but now he was a stain the size of the horizon. If Raft's words were true, this was not a fight but a coup in disguise.
"And Raft," I said. "If Taros is the hand, who is the arm?" Who is in charge of the rogue clans? Who hires the witches?
Raft looked up with a start, as if the question had crawled through his ribs and settled on his tongue. "A man named Kellen. That guy is a bastard from the north. Taros made a deal with him: he would give him land, safe passage, and weapons. Taros gave Kellen mine because he wanted a place to call his own.
"Where is Kellen now?" Devon wanted to know.
Raft thought for a moment. "Last I heard, he was in Redmarsh." He watches over the salt fields. If you hit him there, he won't be able to run away. But he is safe. Taros sends runners.
"And what about Nerine?" I asked.
"Based in the willow grove outside Taros' keep. She talks to the elders. She reads the bones. She told them that the moon would help them be sneaky.
The room got smaller and smaller until the torchlight was the only thing that seemed to point the way. Everything fell into place like a fevered map spread out in front of me. Taros had not only broken a friendship; he had also broken the fragile web of trust that held our packs together. He had planted fear where loyalty had once been.
I got up, and the chair screeched like a scream. My shadow stretched long over Raft's head as he bowed. I told you, "You will lead a scout team to Redmarsh." "You will show us the paths that Kellen and Nerine took. You will show us the way to anyone else you have helped. And you will help me understand the holes Taros has made in our world.
Raft's face was blank. "And what if I say no?"
I said, "You won't." "You will want to be forgiven and you will be useful." If you get in my way, I'll make you wish you had never been born. That sentence had a truth in it that tasted like iron on my tongue. It was true for a man who had seen his friend's heart stop.
He shrugged, and the movement was small but complete.