Page 2 of The Fury She Holds
“My men will burn your little crew alive.”
Talwyn laughed humorlessly. “They’ll never get the chance.”
He made a few more attempts at intimidating her, but eventually the echo of his efforts died along with his hubris. They walked the remaining distance to the Kiln in silence. Carrick waited at the steel door, his hulking frame leaving little space to pass through. Pochette eyed him warily as he approached, halting inside the entryway. Carrick kicked him in the lower back, and the man stumbled to the ground, sprawling in the center of the room.
Unlike the stone tunnel outside, steel lined the large, domed area. There were no windows or other doors this far underground. The only breaks in the metal were a grate in the ceiling’s center and another on the floor directly below. Torchlight reflected off the walls, disrupted only by smoke stains and char marks. Black soot powdered the ground.
Carrick placed a wooden chair over the grate in the center and hefted the now blubbering captive into the seat.
Pathetic, Talwyn thought.For all the violence he’s brought to the docks, the rat can’t handle any directed at him.
Carrick located the hooded figure’s leather pouch and stashed it in his pocket. He nodded to Talwyn when he finished tying Pochette to the chair.
She dipped her head in response before he left the room and closed the door behind him. She stepped up to Pochette and noted the wet spot between his legs with disgust.
“Tying me up? Too weak to fight me honorably?” Sweat dripped down his temple.
“The time for honor has long passed, Pochette. I thought I made that clear at our first deal.” She nodded to his right hand, clawed around the arm of the chair.
“You’re nothing. You’ll never have the power I have. The docks willneverlet awomanreplace me,” he snarled.
“We don’t need a power-hungry tyrant.” She eyed the spot on his pants. “With you gone, its people will have the freedom they deserve.”
“Then you’re prepared to face the evil I’ve kept away these last twenty years? Without me, they’ll destroy everything I’ve built.”
“If your measly crew of criminals kept this so-called power out of the docks, we’ll have no issue protecting the people.” There had been no indication of a foreign power reaching Meladair. Warring factions in the southern kingdom were the closest indication to any sign of conflict, but Talwyn had no reason to believe they made their way north.
“Then you’re a fool.”
She slammed a dagger down on each forearm, and Pochette’s scream echoed off the walls. “The only fool here is you.” He flinched at her proximity. “How many girls have you taken to your bed? How many did you steal off the streets and sell to the highest bidder?”
“I haven’t touched a single—”
“Your recentchastitydoes nothing to fix the twenty years of damage you caused. How many women still remember your stench on their skin? Are a few years enough to atone for that?” She spat at him. “Your reign is over.”
“Then do it already! Get it over with!” he yelled at her, flinching when she shifted one of the blades.
“But it’s so much more fun when you suffer.” Her lips pulled up in a wicked grin. “Tell me,” Talwyn’s fingers twitched, eyeing his damaged appendage, “can you still feel with that hand?”
Pochette’s wide eyes darted around the room, uncertainty lining his brow.
“It’s been almost six years to the day since I vowed to remove it. Do you remember? Do you remember what that hand did?”
“I—”
“Of course you don’t. But I remember. And I remember my promise the night I gave you that scar.” Talwyn steeled herself against the feel of his skin under her fingers, about to drag a nail down the faded white line on his swollen hand. She stopped short, swallowing and flexing her fingers. Instead, she asked, “Why did you finally decide to sell me out? Why now? What changed?”
“Bitch!”
A third dagger met the meaty flesh of his thigh. When his pained howls ceased, she leaned close. “Don’t be brave now. You’re going to die anyway. The question is how quickly I send you to the hells.” She gripped the leather handle of her weapon, a mischievous tilt to her mouth.
He panted, eyes squeezing shut. “They want you.”
“Who?” Her eyes narrowed. She shook the dagger a fraction, and Pochette cried out, straining in the chair.
“Apparitions! Faceless copies!” he yelled through clenched teeth.
“Copies ofwhat?” Talwyn spoke each word carefully.
