Reign of the Fallen (Reign of the Fallen #1)(80)

Still, we can’t leave yet. Not without knowing who paid these people to create more monsters the world didn’t need.

“I can either dig this dagger in deeper and scramble your insides or give you a swift end if you answer my questions,” I whisper, not sure it’s a promise I can make. His end seems to be coming swiftly with or without my help. I rip off his mask, flinging it into the sand, wanting to study his face for lies as we talk. “Now tell me, how were you controlling these Shades?”

He spits blood in my face.

I wiggle the dagger just a little, and once he stops screaming, he starts talking in a ragged voice. “Magic. I taught myself. My eyes may be weak, but there’s nothing wrong with my Sight. I see differently than you, so my powers are different. I thought you’d noticed last time we met, when I didn’t have a mask in the way.”

I gape at him. “So you can . . . control Shades, like a beast master controls an animal?”

Vane nods stiffly.

I make a hasty note to tell Valoria, if I ever see her again. Maybe there are others with powers we don’t understand or even know about. And perhaps, like Vane, there are others who have mastered their abilities alone in the shadows.

In the distance, Lysander roars. I hope he’s running down the other Shade-baiters without any trouble, but Meredy must be worried, as she edges away from us and draws another dagger. Still in her dreamlike state, she runs farther up the beach.

“What were you planning to do”—I rip my gaze from her and quickly return my attention to Vane as the Shades beyond the shore moan and grumble—“with all those monsters?”

He laughs, though it’s more like a splutter. “Why should I tell you? I’m dying, and you’re as good as dead. Soon . . .” He tilts his head in the direction of his companions’ shouts farther up the beach, where the other Shade-baiters are trying their luck against Lysander—and suddenly, I understand. He’s preventing his Shades from attacking to buy his companions time to escape, time they wouldn’t have if they were still around after the monsters finished with me.

“Tell me what you were planning!” I demand again. Even with Vane stalling on behalf of the others, it won’t be long before he’s gone and we’re all Shade food.

He shakes his head, still laughing.

I punch him in the chest, just to stop the sickly sound ringing in my ears. “Fine. Allow me to guess, then. First, you kidnapped Dead nobles from the palace and pulled off their shrouds to turn them into Shades. Then you fed people to them, like Master Nicanor, to make them stronger. Then you kidnapped His Majesty, probably to make another Shade. You’ve been killing necromancers and creating Shades, building an army from our Dead—but why?”

Vane’s breathing is ragged as he chokes out, “If you’re so clever, girl, you tell me.”

I remember the horrified faces of the villagers who survived the massacre in Elsinor. I remember their Dead, marching away to an uncertain future, and it dawns on me. “You were trying to make people fear the Dead. By turning them into Shades, you reminded the living of the danger that surrounds them at all times. But there has to be more to it than that.”

Vane goes suddenly still beneath me, and my heart stops for a moment. I slap his cold face so hard that the sound ripples across the lake.

He’s lost to a fit of bloody coughing. At last, he says, “There’s nothing you can do that’ll make me talk.”

It takes a moment to find my voice again, I’m shaking so hard all over. “Who is he? The man who hired you? A duke—one from the southern provinces?” After all, there have been some with their eyes on King Wylding’s throne for decades.

Vane says nothing, but offers me a strained smirk.

I grab the hilt of the dagger and drive it in deeper, eliciting more screams. Every Karthian’s life depends on knowing who’s really behind these attacks. “Tell me his name, and I’ll make the pain stop!”

Still Vane doesn’t answer, due to agony or his twisted code of morals, I can’t tell. “I’ll find your family, or whoever or whatever it is you love. I’ll kill them, every last one, if you don’t give me the name of the man who hired you right now.”

It’s an empty threat, but he doesn’t need to know that. I must sound wild in my desperation, as he cowers slightly in the wake of my words.

“I do care about the living people of Karthia. Same with my partners.” Vane makes a wheezing sound, struggling for breath, but continues, “And I was promised a seat on his court when he takes the throne. When the living rule and decide the future.”

The living people of Karthia. The words remind me of something Hadrien said once, as he held me close to the beat of a drum. Hadrien, who has enough money to hire a host of men like Vane. Hadrien, who was the last person seen with King Wylding according to Meredy. Hadrien, who Simeon said no one had seen for hours at the time he’d penned his letter to me. Hadrien, who I left with Her Majesty and my friends, thinking they would watch over each other. Hadrien, who is next in line for the throne.

Suddenly, I see what I couldn’t before.

Head spinning, I drop my gaze to the sand. Vane’s blood-spattered hand twitches, and beneath the grime I notice a smattering of bruises, dark against his white knuckles.

“How did you get those marks on your hands?” I demand, but as I expected, Vane can’t or won’t answer. “You punched Prince Hadrien, didn’t you? To demand more rewards when you finished his—his murder crusade. Is that right?”