Page 85 of Hart's Redemption

“But his oaths are fine. Trust me, there are plenty of things he would have loved to lie about in the last year.”

“Be that as it may, they will be tested nonetheless.” He sipped his whiskey, though he looked like he’d prefer to down it as he had the first.

“How will they do that?”

Lombardi focused his intense, fire-filled gaze on me, and for the first time since we met there was a hint of empathy in those burning depths. “They will re-administer them.”

I sat heavily on the bed. “Can they do that?”

“Whether they can is irrelevant. They will.”

“But… but Josh said it was the worst thing he’d ever endured. Worse even than the change. Will it kill him?”

“No. They’ll make sure he doesn’t die, but it won’t change the fact that he’ll wish he could.” He held out the second whiskey again. “Take this.”

“I don’t want it.”

“You will.” His tone frightened me, and I accepted the glass with a shaking hand.

After a tentative sip, I lowered it and watched him pour himself another. “You have to cross-examine Josh.”

Lombardi glanced over his shoulder. “Of course.”

“That’s not what I mean. You can’t let him get away with taking the blame for everything. He’s not as guilty as he insists on being. Ask him the hard questions and don’t let up until he relents.”

He gestured for me to take another drink.

I followed his lead and knocked back the whole thing.

He refilled the glass with the bottle he’d obtained from the bar, and I noticed another resting by his side. “What questions did you have in mind?”

“Ask about his direct involvement. His mother has been controlling him with magic for years. He can’t be held fully accountable for things he couldn’t control.”

“That’s an enlightened approach. What else?” he asked as he topped off my glass, though it was still half full.

“Ask him how manywereshe’s saved over the years.”

“Saved, you say? Imagine that, a Harker not only married and bonded to a lycan, but saving them as well. One might begin to think he had no interest in slaying lycans at all.”

More of the amber liquid found its way into my glass. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to get you drunk. Lycans have an increased tolerance, however, and I’m going to need you to drink much faster. I fear we haven’t the time to spare.”

I drained the glass. “Haven’t the time until what?”

Searing light shot through the bond. My glass slipped from my suddenly slack grip to shatter on the floor. Glass flew across the room as I fell back. Agony flooded every nerve ending as the bond continued to pulse with unbearable light. This light, however, wasn’t warm and comforting; it was vivid green and violent.

I gasped and clawed at my chest. My fingers dug into the skin beneath my shirt even as light exploded behind my eyes. I’d never been in so much pain in my life, and it just kept coming. It played inside my body like lightning unable to ground, relentlessly zapping every cell without distinction. My body bowed off the bed as the agony found new heights. Even the change offered the relief of darkness, but darkness never came.

Chapter 27

Josh

IneverthoughtI’dbeglad to be back in the Pit of Doom, but as the silence closed around me, that’s all I was. Retaking the oaths had been far more excruciating the second time around. First, the engravers had checked their previous work, digging down with magic to the very marrow of my bones, then they’d burned them anew just to be sure. They hadn’t bothered with anesthesia this time, wanting to test the process as they went. I closed my eyes in search of the darkness I hadn’t found in the Chamber of Fírinne, but just like there, painful swatches of green light seared my retinas. My body shook with unshed sobs as I lay there and prayed for exhaustion to take me.

The first time I’d undergone the oaths it had taken a month to recover enough to go on active duty. I didn’t have weeks. As it was, it took three days before I could move enough to leave my cell. The usual excess of soldiers escorted me through the Temple of Pugu, past my holding cell, and right into the courtroom. I thought I caught a glimpse of Yanesh at the back before my gaze was completely consumed by Elijah.

He stood warily behind where I was to be seated, his eyes filled with concern as they tracked my sluggish movements. The mere sight of him had me on the verge of breaking down. Werewolf healing couldn’t help what had been done to me, but I knew without a doubt that holding and being held by Elijah would. A part of me desperately longed to demand that I be allowed to embrace my husband. The logical side, however, intervened. If I miraculously recovered from a process many assembled knew held the power to break people, then they would want to know why. By necessity, the bond had to remain secret; too much rode on it. So I squashed the desire and settled for merely looking at the man who held my heart.