Page 78 of Stealing Tink

“Well, I wasn’t dead,” snaps Venus. “The Company guard shoved something awful and bitter into my mouth before he threw me up against the window. And when I woke, they had me locked up in this awful place. They tortured me, you know. Tortured me worse than they ever did her,” she says, shooting a glare in my direction.

“You do know that second-person pronouns are available to you, do you not?” says the Nomad.

Venus’s nostrils flare in response. It would be nice if I could reason with her rather than provoke her like the Nomad seems set on doing, but she’s on the other side of the room and can’t see my hands.

“Our magic is never worth it to Phoenix,” Venus says, almost to herself. “Not the way it is to me.”

“So Phoenix knows,” the Nomad says, sounding as if she’s only confirmed what he already suspected.

“No,” Venus answers. “She must have believed I was dead. She wouldn’t have left me otherwise.”

Any thought that this betrayal was premeditated flees from my mind at the sound of the insecurity in Venus’s voice.

“So you betrayed your friend,” the Nomad says, “and now?”

“I didn’t betray her. Phoenix is going to be fine,” Venus replies. “You two are the ones they want. The Company has no interest in Acel or Lars either,” she adds, “but probably only because they didn’t recognize Acel. Or perhaps they didn’t want to get on the wrong side of the queen.”

“I will take comfort in that as I’m being tortured,” says the Nomad.

Venus only smirks. “I never did like you.”

“Well, the feeling is mutual,” the Nomad says before swiveling his head toward me. “What about you, Tink? Did you ever like Venus?”

Answering that question hardly seems prudent at the moment.

I want to ask about Lars and Acel, but the Nomad asks first.

Venus just shrugs. “They weren’t there when the Company raided your rendezvous point. Neither was the faerie dust you smuggled off the train.”

The Nomad narrows his eyes to slits, but my stomach twists. Lars betraying us? Not exactly unexpected. But Acel… Perhaps I’d been naive to think he was my friend.

One of the guards approaches and goes to gag me, but Venus spouts out, “If you want to silence her, you’ll have to go for her hands. That mouth of hers is no use. Oh, how grateful I am not to have to learn those stupid signs anymore. Or wait for you to finish scribbling on that parchment of yours. Sure, the Company guards aren’t the friendliest, but you have no idea how refreshing it is to be able to have conversations at a normal speed.”

The words sink right where Venus intends them, in the lump forming in my throat.

It can’t produce voice, but it can feel as if someone is stabbing me as I fight off tears. It shouldn’t matter to me right now. Not when soon, someone is going to come into this room with a knife and a bucket and bloodlet me until my body trembles and the color drains from my cheeks. Even so, I can’t fight off the pain of my fears being realized, of every time I told myself I was overthinking turning out to be true.

That every time I convey the thoughts in my head, someone is wishing I wouldn’t bother.

“What did you say to her?” says the Nomad.

“You heard what I said,” says Venus. “And you’re in no position to make me take it back.”

“Oh, I won’t be making you take it back,” says the Nomad, his voice dripping ichor. “That would imply I’d be giving you a chance to repent.”

Venus scoffs, but she looks uneasy.

The second guard makes to cover my hands, but the first guard stops him. “Why waste a piece of cloth?” asks the first guard.

Then he grabs my finger and twists.

I let out a harrowing scream, but it’s only in my mind. My mouth is agape, forming the posture, but the pain—the pain is all-encompassing.

I don’t know why, but it’s the Nomad’s face I search for. I’m so silent, it takes a moment for the Nomad to realize what’s just happened.

Horror overcomes his face as soon as his eyes dart to my hands, still tied behind my back.

And then he goes very still.