Page 128 of Andreas

They had been at it for a few hours now, the red flame from the sconces along the walls burning low, but Areanel could tell the chieftain was finally reaching his breaking point. The man was all talk. In reality, he was a coward.

Areanel had taken the lead at first, asking questions and using her fists to get answers when the chieftain was reluctant to share—all while Verdugo sat back and watched with that ever-present smile.

She had managed to get him to speak, but it was only to scream vulgar obscenities. When she had grown tired of that and was about to introduce him to a blade, Verdugo suggested allowing him to loosen his tongue for her. So he had placed the chieftain in chains, stretching his limbs impossibly taut. Areanel could swear his muscles were tearing, but it was hard to hear over his screams.

Still, Areanel had grown bored with Verdugo’s ministrations. When it came her turn, Verdugo spoke, ‘Perhaps working together, dear Nelly?’ he asked politely, and she didn’t understand how he could still be smiling. Didn’t his face hurt?

She nodded, taking the knife he offered her. With a fortifying breath, Areanel settled her mind, separating herself from the person she needed to be. This form of torture always set her on edge. It made her sick to her stomach, but it was something she had to do.

She could take it.

Right now, she needed to be a monster. This was no longer about her—it had never been about her. This was simply a job, and she was playing a role.

Without saying a word, she began to make small incisions along his arms, which were chained to the ceiling. She didn’t want to break him beyond repair; she just needed him to talk. In her experience, this technique usually did the trick.

When the cuts covered his arms and the blood ran down, dripping onto the concrete floor, she moved on to his abdomen.

They weren’t life-threatening injuries, but they did hurt. She made sure of it. She crossed the cuts along his abdomen in no particular pattern, taking her time, not uttering a single word. The only sound had been the slow drip, drip, drip of something in the corner of the room.

Had it started to rain?

Verdugo, however, preferred a more brutal type of torture. Areanel had realised that his cane was not there to use as support. No. It was his weapon of choice.

She observed as he struck the chieftain over and over again, starting with small swings before moving onto far heavier swings to his legs and feet. Then, as his smile grew more sadistic and his laugh more menacing, he aimed for the chieftain’s joints.

He laughed in glee when he heard bones snap and screams echo.

Still, it wasn’t until Areanel began to pull back his skin from the small lacerations she’d made that the chieftain began to talk.

‘I should have seen it before,’ the old man rasped. ‘Of course that heretic bastard sent his little assassin after me. Couldn’t risk getting his hands dirty himself, could he?’

Areanel was used to insults, but something about the way he spoke about her father set her teeth on edge.

She had no qualms about his torture; Areanel would use any means necessary to get the information she needed. She would find these rebels and carve their very existence from Idyssa before they could cause any more harm to her family. The man winced, hissing through his bloody teeth as Areanel put pressure on a wound.

‘I didn’t do anything, witch. He sent you to kill an innocent man!’

‘You’re not innocent,’ she seethed.

The chieftain spat blood at her feet. ‘I’m more innocent than those you keep in your company. That bastard with you, for example.’ He huffed a strained laugh, glaring at her. ‘That’s right. I saw those serrated ears. Bastard of a highborn, ain’t he? Exiled and disowned because of his whore mother!’

She bared her teeth at the insult. Areanel was just like her mother in one sense: her feelings for Caius were as confusing as Vada's for the king. She may not have entirely forgiven Caius yet, but this male didn’t know what he’d been through.

‘I know the likes of him! He wants nothing but—aaahh!’ The chieftain was cut off as Areanel, in her boiling rage, kicked an already broken bone in his leg.

‘Enough.’ Areanel finally spoke.

Verdugo laughed from somewhere behind her, opting to watch, and the sound sent phantom spiders skittering down her spine. ‘Tell me what I want to know, and I will give you a painless death.’

Because that’s what would happen. There was no mercy for this man. He would die.

The chieftain’s gaze snapped back to hers, brown meeting blue. ‘I like to gamble. I like my money. You’re going to kill me because I let some rebel scum, who paid good money, work out of my village? It’s a damned village! We ain’t got nothing for you. Gods, we ain’t even a part of your blood-ridden country!’

‘You signed a treaty,’ Areanel stated matter-of-factly.

‘I didn’t sign shit!’ The chieftain spat, his chains rattling as he jerked forward. ‘Just because the governing whores here sold off this country doesn’t mean I owe you bloodthirsty elves anything.’ His head lolled, but anger still blazed behind his eyes.

‘You want me to tell you something, pretty?’ His dazed eyes levelled on Areanel. ‘You want me to give you something you can take back to that overlord of yours? You see, I learnt some things whilst gambling with those prissy fools. You saw them—lords and ladies all think they’re fucking worth something. But in reality, once you get them drinking, they’ll tell you anything you want to know.’