Zane's jaw visibly clenched with only a slight groan as he carefully lowered himself into the wooden but sturdy investigation chair.
The inquiry agent, dressed in a grey three-piece suit, white shirt, and black hat, sat on a similar chair across the wooden square table.
The atmosphere was humid, the afternoon sun's rays barely puncturing the large red canopy with the saber-tooth tiger logo of Sirence, red on one side and white on the other, atop it.
It shielded Zane and the agent, with two Sirence soldiers stationed at every open entrance.
The cream sand of Lumere's field shuffled beneath Zane's boots as he placed both elbows on the table before him, leaning forward slightly.
His gaze lowered from the agent's rich brown eyes to the surface of the table beneath him.
His lips would remain sealed to Azael and Sirence.
"You're the one whose existence still surprises me," the agent said.
He sounded older, not middle-aged.
"The kings were particularly upset that your life mattered outside their influence."
Zane's fingers sank to their knuckles into each other.
"Perhaps you could tell me why they dislike you so much," the agent added.
"I was told this was an interrogation," Zane said. "But how could I be of any use to it when the only memory I have right now is that of being slammed multiple times against the bark of a tree?"
"Your injuries include amnesia?" The agent asked.
"I'm afraid so," Zane replied, keeping his head down as he lied. "My colleague attests to my severely injured condition before I was taken to the hospital."
A light tap on the table came next, and Zane felt his nerves rise as his knuckles grazed each other.
He needed to maintain his composure in the presence of a skilled inquiry agent.
"It's an interrogation," the agent said. "Not a loathing section."
Zane swallowed.
He could do this. He had to. He had already gone too far to let his plans crumble.
He leaned back into his chair and lifted his eyes to meet the agent's.
A smile immediately split the man's faintly stubbled face. "That's better," he said. "I'm Agent Ferdinand. Zane Maggo?"
Zane gave a slight nod, releasing a breath of exasperation.
"Has your colleague mentioned that you are one of the perpetrators of an escape?" Ferdinand said. "An escape you engineered for an individual under the kings' eyes."
Elana.
Zane thought.
"Her visits have been short," Zane replied.
"There has been no time to catch up?"
"No," Zane replied again.
"You do recall that you are a soldier of Lumere?" Ferdinand asked.
Zane nodded.
A frustrated sigh escaped the agent as he leaned back into his chair.
"I guess the blind girl would have to answer for most of the gaps in this interrogation," Ferdinand said.
Zane's fingertips dug into the backs of his hands, and he swallowed.
Ferdinand's eyes dropped to Zane's hands, but only briefly, before he met Zane's eyes again.
"You remember her as well?" Ferdinand asked, sudden interest flickering in his eyes.
Zane lowered his gaze and said, "I remember my friends. I just don't recall the events of the night I was attacked vividly."
Ferdinand leaned forward, and Zane raised his eyes, tightening his jaw to hold back his emotions and concern for Elana.
Was his lie likely to complicate things for her?
If that was the case, he had to finalize his plan after transforming with Eira.
"I can tell mentioning her struck a nerve," Ferdinand said. "Significant for faster memory recovery. Especially since you were both under the same circumstances that night."
"Cara said she was hurt as well," Zane replied.
That monster, Azael, couldn't possibly hurt her for wanting to escape him.
"Cara?" Ferdinand asked with a puzzled look, but only for a second. "Your colleague, I believe, besides…Caesar?"
Zane adjusted his body and gaze slightly in his seat before saying, "Yes."
There was a short pause.
"And the last thing you remembered about Elana was?" Ferdinand asked again.
Zane scoffed quietly. "I remember her expressing her need for freedom, her need for a basic human right," he blurted.
"So you helped her?"
Zane leaned back into his chair with his hands off the table, this time averting his eyes.
Reminding himself internally to be cautious, he replied,
"I didn't say that."
"You cared for her as more than a friend?"
"She's vulnerable," Zane answered. "My friends and I protect her because she's our friend too."
"So she has manipulative rights amongst yourselves?"
Zane's gaze shifted immediately to meet the agent's.
"I'm not sure what you mean," Zane responded.
Ferdinand leaned back again into his chair with a smirk and said, "I'm beginning to come to the conclusion that her escape was orchestrated by herself."
"She's blind," Zane blurted, unable to contain his words.
"Never said she wasn't," Ferdinand replied, keeping the smug smirk on his face. "You seem to remember a lot about her…including her motivations."
Zane tightened his jaw and glanced away with a sigh. "If this is an interrogation just as you said," he challenged, "go ahead and ask her yourself."
"Would have loved to," Ferdinand shrugged, "but even the kings can't grant me access to her interrogation."
"Why?" Zane asked, immediately regretting his eager question as the agent's smirk relaxed into a smile.
"Reasons beyond my control," Ferdinand replied. "You and your group of friends, including the blind girl, are suspected accomplices in a terrible situation going on in Sirence. A situation punishable by death."
Zane's stare hardened on Ferdinand, but he swallowed immediately, catching himself before he revealed too much to the agent.
"It's also very interesting how she is still the variable keeping not just you and your colleagues," Ferdinand continued, "but the entire kingdom of Lumere at the mercy of the situation."
Zane focused his gaze on Ferdinand's easy smile, still relaxed and observing.
His insinuation, unknowing.
Did he know about Azael?
"Probably, a high-class citizen as yourself," Zane began, "would have met the kings of Sirence in person."
Ferdinand's smile faded, and he glanced away, licking his lips.
"Subjects make their ruler venerated and worshipped, but manage to be the most common variable," Ferdinand said, then looked back at Zane. "Wiped out without a trace."
Zane tilted his head.
"Your problem is not the blind girl?" he asked.
"She is part of your problem," Ferdinand replied, and Zane's head straightened as his heart dropped again.
He had misread the room.
Ferdinand leaned forward.
"You are the closest to what I need. Don't think I'm that dumb not to notice your lie about memory loss."
Zane's heart dropped further.
Sirence would have his head. A rogue soldier stripped of his name and honor even in death.
"Good," Ferdinand said. "You're scared."
Zane's brows furrowed, confusion growing despite his fear.
"What exactly…?" Zane began.
"I'm a man after influence," Ferdinand cut in. "A man who has managed to reach a certain point in the game of the commoners' hierarchy. I am also a man who looks beyond it, even possibly to the supernatural."
Zane was right.
Ferdinand had an aim.
"I can make your problems go away if you tell me everything you know about the Kings of Sirence," Ferdinand went on, "who they truly are, their affiliation with the blind girl, and, of course, the siege Lumere is under."
Zane swallowed again as he held the agent's invasive stare.
This was certainly a trap.
It could either kill him or give him reasonable leverage—leverage beyond Eira's plans.
Zane lowered his gaze and acted as though the effort felt heavy as he rose to his feet.
"I have to go," he said. "The drug strengthening me is almost worn off."
Ferdinand leaned back into his chair.
"I'll give you time to think about it, Zane. Something tells me we may actually think alike."
The stomp of approaching soldiers from behind Zane made him start, his attention returning to his surroundings and the knowing look from Ferdinand.
Zane inhaled with a brief nod and turned toward the two soldiers waiting to accompany him out of the tent.
The familiar feeling of disgust crept into his consciousness, one only the pungent taste of corruption could cause.
This time it was two-edged.
His compliance or certain death—possibly not just for himself.
**
King Victor flinched at the sudden knock on his door, where he sat up straight on the side of the bed facing the window, the blue-velvet sheets covering the mattress beneath him.
He had been brooding in silence, staring through the windows at the golden afternoon beyond his room.
His eyes drifted toward the stale white stone walls of the towers that surrounded and protected the palace's inner compound.
The afternoon sun cast an abundant glow over the compound.
"Who?" Victor called.
"Dera, the messenger," a female voice replied from the other side.
Victor's gaze returned to the window.
"Come in," he ordered.
The door clicked open, and the scent of fresh sandalwood immediately drifted past Victor's nose.
Very much like Dera Xandrix.
Cara's former best friend and the woman whose love for him remained unrequited. A woman who had remained loyal even when his own selfish ambitions had demanded too much of those around him.
Her family was noble and influential enough to extend his reach through their connections, yet he had never been interested in what they could offer him.
Except in her friend, Cara—who Dera had ratted out to him about overhearing conversations between Cara and the others, who had eavesdropped on Victor's hidden plans with the council.
Plans that had ultimately dogwalked him straight toward the doom of his own kingdom.
"How have you been faring, my king?" Dera asked.
Shame slowly crept into him.
Victor swallowed.
"I thought you had already left," he said. "With the migration."
"My loyalty to the repercussions of the sacrifices you've made for Lumere to remain greater still," Dera replied.
Victor lowered his head, shaking it slightly with a humorless laugh. "You fail to see that…" He paused as his fists clenched beside him, his still-healing injuries protesting beneath the pressure. "There shouldn't have been any motivation at all."
"You did nothing a true king wouldn't have done," she replied.
Victor's jaw tightened.
"Why are you here, Dera?"
"I heard of…" She hesitated. "I heard of Cara's betrayal."
Victor finally turned his gaze toward her.
Her jet-black hair fell loose and wavy almost to her waist.
A rich cream shirt of expensive material was tucked neatly into brown trousers that ended at her calves, disappearing into the red leather boots she wore.
A red rose brooch rested against her breast pocket, its chain extending down toward one of the buttons.
Her hands in white cotton gloves, gathered delicately at the cuffs, were held behind her back in a respectful posture.
Victor had always wondered whether her style was genuinely hers or merely influenced by Cara's carefree nature.
His eyes dropped briefly to the bold red lipstick against her olive skin.
Cara hardly ever wore makeup.
He briefly remembered the anger he had felt when Cara had appeared with her hair cut short and dyed red.
"She did not betray me," Victor said, turning his attention back toward the window.
"Her alliance with your enemy is simply manipulation, and I can prove it," Dera insisted.
"No one is proving anything." His voice hardened. "I'm tired of all of these political games. My kingdom is on the verge of extinction. What remains of my soldiers are already placed at high risk."
Dera lowered her head.
"I believe we should be less merciful with traitors so they never return to become thorns in our flesh—not just individually, but as a kingdom."
"You know nothing," Victor replied, a slight outburst escaping him. "Within these walls, we dish out orders without ever knowing what it's like out there for the soldiers who are mandated to obey. Intentionally hurting and sending our very own subjects to their deaths, all for…"
"For the greater good, my king," Dera cut in.
Victor turned his head toward her, his brows slightly furrowed.
"We could certainly start with yours," he said.
"I'm sorry if I come off as rude, my king," she replied, keeping her gaze lowered. "But the council has been deciding in your absence. They say you are weak and incapable. I only wish to prove them wrong because I know the truth of how much you've sacrificed."
Victor's jaw snapped tighter.
"Those bastards," he gritted through his teeth.
"I want to help," Dera added. "We mustn't let Lumere sink like this."
Victor returned his gaze to the window. "And who says I'm not trying? You know nothing of the dangers that await this kingdom if I move even slightly out of place."
"Then this much I know," Dera began. "The supernatural strength of what we are up against. Our leverage is weaker because of the missing mage whom the soldiers you spared for the enemy are actively hunting."
"You say it like it's easy to just walk up against this strength."
Victor let out a bitter laugh.
"I'm aware he destroyed an entire legion without moving from a spot," Dera said.
Victor immediately raised his head to meet her deep brown eyes, long lashes framing them perfectly.
"You were not there," he said.
"A demon that escaped the territory of Hell into our world," Dera continued.
"Fire hot enough to make the flesh of a man melt from his body in bursting flames," Victor said, the veins in his neck nearly rising beneath his skin.
"And he surveys our world with bats."
Victor stopped.
That was something he hadn't known yet he remembered the flurry of bats whenever the Ancient appeared.
His tense neck slowly relaxed.
"How…?"
Dera bowed her head.
"Think about our retaliation, my king," she said. "I will be back by tomorrow night to get your reply."
Before Victor could open his mouth, Dera straightened and walked toward the door, pulling it open.
"Then you are aware that there are wolves too," Victor managed. "Mansized and capable of hunting our kind to extinction."
"We have weapons and allies willing to assist," Dera replied. "This war is bound to benefit us. It is our chance to learn and evolve instead of cowering before our opportunity."
She paused at the doorway.
"I believe Lumere will stand. But I believe solely, that it will still be standing on its own land of origin."
Victor clenched the sheets.
"I've always believed in you more than she did," Dera said.
Then she stepped through the doorway.
The sharp clicking of her footsteps echoed down the hall before the door finally closed behind her.
**
Mariana's breath hitched for the second time as she choked back her nervousness and guilt, standing among the other two midwives before the woman crying and clenching the sheets beneath her in agony as she brought forth a child.
A pain every female mammal must endure to bring life into the world.
Their clan was relieved that Regina was finally putting to bed.
At least their migration from Lumere to the next kingdom would be smoother once the child was born.
Before the terror of whatever creatures lay beyond Lumere's outskirts closed in.
Money was scarce. Most had saved whatever little they had, uncertain of what fate awaited them in the new kingdom.
Mariana hadn't even managed to save a reasonable penny.
Even transportation was not guaranteed for the moving motor cars before they reached the railway, which was currently damaged from the war.
After that, they would have to trek together until they reached the next distant rail station.
She needed at least ten thousand rubies—precious stones that could be exchanged for enough of the new currency to rent a house in the new country.
She had nothing.
The war had taken the life of her husband.
Now, only her life and the lives of her three children stood between them, with death on one side and the cold streets of an unfamiliar country on the other.
Regina was the new and expecting wife of her younger brother, Cody—a simple farmer and the most generous of all her siblings.
Even he had nothing enough to spare for Mariana.
"Arghhhh!"
Regina's scream snapped Mariana back to the present.
The two midwives who had been standing beside her now stood on either side of the bed, holding Regina's hands as her sweat-sheened body struggled to sit upright against the blood-stained birthing drape beneath her on the wide bed.
Mariana leaned forward onto her knees, placing her palms against the bed before the exhausted mother, who slumped against the mattress after another failed attempt.
The muscles in Regina's neck strained as her skin stayed flushed with the pain of labour.
"It's going to kill me!" Regina cried. "I'd rather die with it inside…"
"Shut your careless lips, child," Mariana hissed. "It's either this or the hospitals are bound to ask for your husband and recruit him for the war."
Regina raised her head again, her arms held firmly by the women gripping her hands at either side, as she let out a scream that made Mariana position herself with her palms out, ready to receive the child as it slid and burst straight into her arms.
Regina collapsed back against the bed as the newborn's cry gradually filled the room.
The two midwives immediately released Regina.
The one on the left, a black scarf tied over her head, moved to pick up the metal tray, the scissors resting among its contents.
She carried it toward Mariana, who was still cradling the wailing infant.
Mariana's guilt sank deeper as she stared at the child.
She could only hope God would forgive her.
She could only hope the man who had requested this infant in exchange for such a huge bag of gold did not intend any harm.
Perhaps he only wanted a more submissive slave.
"Mariana," the midwife holding the tray called softly.
Mariana lifted her head and managed a nervous smile before releasing a hand to reach toward the tray.
Her thumb and index finger closed around the scissors.
Then she raised them and brought the steel blades together over the umbilical cord, permanently separating mother and child physically.