Page 94 of This Dark Descent
“Do you warn all of your suspects before you arrest them?” Damien asked.
Talyana shrugged one shoulder. “What fun is a hunt if your prey doesn’t run?”
Prey.
Damien betrayed nothing, though Ari knew the word bothered him. Like her, he’d worked too hard to make himself the hunter to suffer those who thought they could tear him down. Everything he had built, everything he had fought for, rested on his plans with the Illinir going smoothly.
If Talyana interfered with those, he’d make her regret it.
“Do you have a writ of arrest from your superior?” Damien asked Talyana.
Her jaw set, and Damien smiled. “I didn’t think so.” He advanced on her. The constables’ hands fell on their batons. “I’ve heard stories about you, Sergeant. Apparently, you have a habit of disobeying orders and ignoring your superiors. I’d wager you asked for that writ and were denied, weren’t you?”
Talyana’s lips pressed into a firm line as he said, “And yet you came anyway. I wonder what Inspector Elrihan would have to say about that? He and I are rather good friends.”
“So I’ve heard,” Talyana ground out. “In fact, you seem to have a fair number of friends in high places. Been sharing your profits? Rigging races and selling illegal verillion has to pay well.”
Damien clasped his hands and shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.”
Talyana looked ready to strike him down just for the sake of it. One of the other guards grasped her shoulder. “Let’s go, Sergeant. It’s not worth it.”
“Listen to your friend,” Damien warned.
The affable air that’d surrounded Talyana moments ago had grown into a thundercloud. For a moment, she stood poised on the edge of indecision. Then she said, “You’re under arrest for the murder of Fen and Cardix Ridoux.”
At the top of the stairs, Loic laughed.
Cold understanding swept through Ari, and she watched in horror as the sergeant withdrew a pair of handcuffs. She expected Damien to fight back, todo something, but he simply turned around and crossed his arms behind his back.
Well, if he wouldn’t act, she would. She stepped forward, but Damien caught her eye and shook his head. She stopped.
The wind rose, making her curls dance around her face as the sergeant secured the handcuffs. An unfamiliar scent rode the air, something bitter amidst the rosy smell. Then a hand closed over her mouth. Strong arms dragged her back, her vision blurring. The last thing she saw was Damien’s wide eyes, a shout forming on his lips.
Then everything went dark.
CHAPTER 33
ARIELLE
ARI WOKE GROGGILYon a cold stone floor. Her body felt numb and tingly all at once, but not in the pleasant way of the verillion. The buzz from the magic had faded, though she’d eaten enough verillion to last several hours. How long had she been out?
When she moved, metal clinked and something rough dug into her wrist. Blinking to clear her foggy vision, she looked down at the chains that bound her wrists, then up at the dark stone walls of the cell around her. An enchanted lamp burned just down the hall, casting a faint glow.
A sharp, wild panic reared inside her. Loic must have told the Anthir that she was an unlicensed enchanter. They’d arrested Damien for harboring her and locked her in a cell to await execution.
She pulled desperately on her empty store of verillion. If she could just enchant the ring, she could break these chains and escape, but the magic was gone. They’d hang her in a public execution, make her an example of what happened to enchanters who thought themselves above the law. They might even go after her family, if Loic accused her of Kinnish magic.
She’d been so close. The final race of the Illinir was only a day away. She’d have become a licensed enchanter, have had Damien at her side and the world at her feet. After everything she’d learned, everything she’d done, it was over. Her power meant nothing in the face of this.
Your power means everything, urged the voice.
A low moan echoed through the high arched corridor, answered by a bone-grinding growl. Ari stilled. Neither of those had sounded human. In tandem the sounds rose into a winding howl, cut through by the clank of chains and scrape of claws on stone.
What kind of jail was this?
A bolt shifted in the door, and it swung open to reveal two silhouettes. One she didn’t recognize, short with a narrow face.
The other was Rezek Kelbra.
