“I am looking at him.” Drakken’s gray eyes were chips of ice. “And I see him standing perfectly well. With plenty of attitude.”
“Let Max have some proper food first,” Aelindor said with measured courtesy. “Interrogating him while he’s this weak won’t yield reliable information.”
“We don’t show our enemies the courtesy and mercy they’ve never shown us.” Drakken’s voice was harsh. “If he’s innocent, he has nothing to fear. But if he’s a spy, I’ll make sure he tells us everything before we hang him.”
“Back off.” I met his hostile stare without flinching. This time, I wouldn’t look down. “I’m not a spy. I never planned to come to your fortress. I didn’t ask to be brought here either. If you don’t like me here, send me away right now. I’ll leave your lands immediately and never look back.”
“Too late. You’re already deep in our territory,” he huffed. “And too bad for you, boy.”
I bristled at being called “boy” by someone probably only a couple years older than me.
“Or should I say little warlock?” His eyes narrowed. “Is Max Morning even your real name?”
I stared at him.
What the actual fuck?
He turned to address Aelindor, his tone shifting from disdain to respect. “He’s a warlock. No doubt. My dragon smelled witch blood in him—and not just any witch fucking bloodline.”
10
MAX
The vast interrogation room was dark except for the area where I sat on a very uncomfortable iron chair, its coldness biting through my rough pants. Three Stormglass-powered beams hit my face directly, blinding me.
Psychological warfare,the demon offered.A power play designed to intimidate us. Joy.The princelings don’t know who we are, and we let them underestimate us, until we don’t.
I stared ahead, refusing to flinch. The heirs sat twenty feet behind a long table, their faces shadowed. Aelindor and Nikolai in the center. Drakken and Caspian flanking them. With the light in my eyes, I couldn’t read their expressions.
“Your true name, warlock.” Drakken’s voice cut cold.
I glanced at the water glasses on their table. Tried not to lick my cracked lips.
“Max Morning.”
“Louder!”
“This is how I speak.” I kept my voice flat. “Bornwith a low vocal register. Never could afford a doctor. If you’re hard of hearing, move closer.”
Two of them snickered. Caspian and Nikolai, definitely.
Drakken’s jaw tightened. “My hearing’s superior.”
“Then you don’t need me to shout.”
Nikolai stood. “Let’s move the table. No need to yell across the room.”
“Since when do we cater to prisoners?” Drakken sneered, but Caspian was already dragging the table forward. Four guards rushed to help—princes shouldn’t carry furniture.
Within moments, they sat three feet away. I should’ve kept my mouth shut. Now they were too close.
“Water, please.” The word slipped out before I could stop it.
“Nothing until you talk.” Drakken didn’t blink.
The dragon prince and I were definitely going to get along well.
Aelindor stood, taking his water glass. Caspian and Nikolai did the same.