“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Berith taunted.
“I would, actually. That’s why I asked you so nicely.”
The guard spat at my feet, and I sighed heavily. He was really going to make me do this, wasn’t he?
So be it.
I took a deep breath and tunneled into my own aether, digging out what was buried at the very core. Pulling upon something that I had worked sogodsdamnedhard to suppress after all this time. Just to dredge it back up for the likes of this motherfucker.
My blood began to sing in recognition of the power I reclaimed. I took a step forward, and the Ravenhound’s knees buckled under the weight of that dark, foreign magick.
“That’s no way to treat a Vistarii, now is it, Berith?” I snarled.
The pressure I was exerting on the guard was already starting to make my head throb. I hadn’t touched this power in years, save that one night with the Leshy. And with it, came darkness. Venom. Cruelty.Fury.
I drew my daggers.
“No,” Berith gasped as one blade kissed his throat. “It is not. But you are hardly worthy of the name you bear.”
“I take that as a compliment,” I replied through grit teeth, beads of sweat beginning to form at my brow as I grappled with this power I had unleashed. “Nowtell me,Berith Apollyon, servant of Caen.What is your purpose here?”
Berith groaned, grasping at his throat as if he could silence himself. Whatever magick Caen might have used to swear his hounds into servitude and secrecy, my own superseded it. But I had to respect the man for trying. My compulsion was stronger, and Berith was beginning to break.
“Mypurpose,” Berith spat angrily, “Is to spy on you, on behalf of the prince. And report back on anything of interest.”
My lip curled with disdain as I crafted my expression as one of cruel disinterest, not the panic that was flooding my senses.
“And have you found anything of interest,mutt?” I demanded.
Despite the agonizing pain that the Ravenhound had to be in as he was clearly attempting to resist a certain arcane chain of command, the man laughed.
“Hardly,” he barked out. “You lead an awfully pathetic life among these miserable creatures.”
My eyes narrowed.
“Are you speaking the truth in full, Berith Apollyon?”
What little entertainment he’d found in attempting to insult me faded from his eyes, and yet again, the Ravenhound spat in my face.
How dare he?!My blood seemed to howl, my abandoned birthright developing a mind of its own.Make him pay for his insolence!
No. I was not Dagon.
“Tell me what Caen knows,” I commanded as Berith continued to struggle against his bindings, panting and panicked.
“He knows that you continue to serve the enemy. He knows where to locate you, should he ever deign to do so. He knows that you’ve grownsoftandweakand even morepatheticthan you ever were before—”
I could sense that Berith was using the insults to stall, attempting to mask something else. Something else that Caen knew. I continued to dig deep into the wellspring of power at my core, scraping the edge of my sanity to do it.
“What. Else. Does. He. Know. Berith?” I snapped, interrupting.
Berith Apollyon gave me a morbid grin, full of sickening mirth.
“He knows how tohurt you,Kieran,” he hissed. “I made sure of it.”
I was running out of time, energy, and godsdamned patience for these games. I applied heavy pressure on the dagger that was still at his throat, allowing it to sink in, piercing the skin.
“You’re going to be very specific, now, Apollyon,” I warned. “Or you’re going to die very slowly. So how do you want to go about this?”