the floor. My father and Devon were already moving to him, but the human raised a weak hand, waving them away.
“Lower him,” he said, his voice a mere whisper, and the two stone men moved to the chains. Together, they worked them until there was enough slack in the lines that I was able to collapse forward.
For several moments, I simply lay there, enjoying the lack of sound as well as the lack of pain. No one spoke until I pressed myself up to my knees.
“Is his will broken?” my father asked.
The human—still lying on the ground—rolled onto his back and slowly stood up. He brushed at and adjusted his coat and slid the notebook back into his pocket before speaking, running his fingers through his hair. “Let’s find out. What do you want to know?”
My father contemplated for a moment as he moved closer to me, looking down into my face, where I lay on the floor of the cargo hold.
“I want to know the secrets,” he said. “The ones the Spellmason Alexander Belarus stole from us.”
I remained silent, once more not willing to give up any information that might betray Alexandra.
“Answer him,” the man said. “Truthfully.”
I started to answer “no,” but the word would not come to my lips.
My mind screamed it, but somehow I could not. The harder I willed it, the more it would not come, and with each second that passed, my voice—my true voice—became quieter and quieter until it was barely a whisper at the back of my mind. Its former space was now filled with a foreign and dominant voice with but one desire—to answer my father with the truth.
“I cannot tell you those secrets,” I said, trying to allow my true self to speak as cryptically as I could.
“You can and you
will
,” my father shouted, full of rage. He turned on the man. “This was supposed to work.”
The man seemed unaffected by my father’s angered tone, holding up his hand to him as he stepped close to me.
“Hold on, now,” he said, glancing back to my father and Devon. “You told me the secrets are locked away within him, yes? That’s why you hired me, to get those out, right?”
My father nodded.
The man turned back to me. “The secrets of the Spellmasons are locked inside you, yes?”
“That is what I told my father,” I said, speaking the truth while still fighting to hold back the details.
“I am giving you permission to unlock those secrets,” the human said.
“I cannot.”
“Why not?” the man asked, skeptical curiosity filling his eyes.
The small voice in the back of my head pressed forward, shouting for me not to tell him the truth, but just as quick as it had shouted, it was silenced by the new, dominant presence in my head.
“I am not in possession of the secrets,” I said, a pained spike rising in my head. It throbbed, but my small true voice remained silent now.
“What?” my father shouted, pushing the man out of the way, his brute strength slamming the human into the wall, crumpling him to the floor.
“Easy,” the man whispered in a pained breath.
“What do you mean, you are not in possession of those secrets?” my father shouted, gripping my face in his hand.
“I never was,” I said. “I lied, ‘
bluffed
,’ the humans call it . . . to protect them.”
My father raged, lifting me into the air by my throat and throwing me. I tumbled end over end, chain and wings intertwining as I flew until I landed on the floor in a tangle.
“The time I have wasted,” he said. “All on a false promise by my own kin.” He turned to Devon. “Tell my men to head back to shore. We march on your family’s building.”
“What are you going to do?” the man asked, easing himself back onto his feet. There was fear in his voice, no doubt in fear for his life. “This alchemy is a work in progress. I just need some time to refine this . . .”
My father grabbed him by his arms, lifting him. The man screamed in pain, which stopped my father, but there was a current of rage
“Lower him,” he said, his voice a mere whisper, and the two stone men moved to the chains. Together, they worked them until there was enough slack in the lines that I was able to collapse forward.
For several moments, I simply lay there, enjoying the lack of sound as well as the lack of pain. No one spoke until I pressed myself up to my knees.
“Is his will broken?” my father asked.
The human—still lying on the ground—rolled onto his back and slowly stood up. He brushed at and adjusted his coat and slid the notebook back into his pocket before speaking, running his fingers through his hair. “Let’s find out. What do you want to know?”
My father contemplated for a moment as he moved closer to me, looking down into my face, where I lay on the floor of the cargo hold.
“I want to know the secrets,” he said. “The ones the Spellmason Alexander Belarus stole from us.”
I remained silent, once more not willing to give up any information that might betray Alexandra.
“Answer him,” the man said. “Truthfully.”
I started to answer “no,” but the word would not come to my lips.
My mind screamed it, but somehow I could not. The harder I willed it, the more it would not come, and with each second that passed, my voice—my true voice—became quieter and quieter until it was barely a whisper at the back of my mind. Its former space was now filled with a foreign and dominant voice with but one desire—to answer my father with the truth.
“I cannot tell you those secrets,” I said, trying to allow my true self to speak as cryptically as I could.
“You can and you
will
,” my father shouted, full of rage. He turned on the man. “This was supposed to work.”
The man seemed unaffected by my father’s angered tone, holding up his hand to him as he stepped close to me.
“Hold on, now,” he said, glancing back to my father and Devon. “You told me the secrets are locked away within him, yes? That’s why you hired me, to get those out, right?”
My father nodded.
The man turned back to me. “The secrets of the Spellmasons are locked inside you, yes?”
“That is what I told my father,” I said, speaking the truth while still fighting to hold back the details.
“I am giving you permission to unlock those secrets,” the human said.
“I cannot.”
“Why not?” the man asked, skeptical curiosity filling his eyes.
The small voice in the back of my head pressed forward, shouting for me not to tell him the truth, but just as quick as it had shouted, it was silenced by the new, dominant presence in my head.
“I am not in possession of the secrets,” I said, a pained spike rising in my head. It throbbed, but my small true voice remained silent now.
“What?” my father shouted, pushing the man out of the way, his brute strength slamming the human into the wall, crumpling him to the floor.
“Easy,” the man whispered in a pained breath.
“What do you mean, you are not in possession of those secrets?” my father shouted, gripping my face in his hand.
“I never was,” I said. “I lied, ‘
bluffed
,’ the humans call it . . . to protect them.”
My father raged, lifting me into the air by my throat and throwing me. I tumbled end over end, chain and wings intertwining as I flew until I landed on the floor in a tangle.
“The time I have wasted,” he said. “All on a false promise by my own kin.” He turned to Devon. “Tell my men to head back to shore. We march on your family’s building.”
“What are you going to do?” the man asked, easing himself back onto his feet. There was fear in his voice, no doubt in fear for his life. “This alchemy is a work in progress. I just need some time to refine this . . .”
My father grabbed him by his arms, lifting him. The man screamed in pain, which stopped my father, but there was a current of rage
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