An Ember in the Ashes (Ember Quartet #1)(118)

He leans forward, his eyes glowing with fervor. “It’s only a matter of time before word gets out that Taius is dead. When it does—chaos, unrest. It’s what we’ve been waiting for. I only wish your mother was here to see it.”

“Don’t you talk about my mother.” In my rage, I forget to tell him of the spy. I forget to tell him that the Commandant will know of his grand plan. “She lived by Izzat. And you’re selling out her children, you bastard. Did you sell her out too?”

Mazen rounds the table, a vein pulsing in his neck. “I’d have followed the Lioness into a fire. I’d have followed her into hell. But you’re not like your mother, Laia. You’re more like your father. And your father was weak. As for Izzat—you’re a child. You have no idea what it means.”

My breathing stutters, and I reach out a shaking hand to the table to steady myself. I look back at Keenan, who refuses to meet my eyes. Traitor. Had he always known that Mazen didn’t mean to help? Had he watched and laughed as the foolish little girl went off on impossible missions?

Cook was right the whole time. I never should have trusted Mazen. I never should have trusted any of them. Darin knew better. He wanted to change things, but he’d figured out it couldn’t be with the rebels. He’d realized they weren’t worthy of his trust.

“My brother,” I say to Mazen. “He’s not in Bekkar, is he? Is he alive?”

Mazen sighs. “Where the Martials took your brother, no one can follow. Give it up, girl. You can’t save him.”

Tears threaten to spill down my cheeks, but I fight them back. “Just tell me where he is.” I try to keep my voice reasonable. “Is he in the city? In Central? You know. Tell me.”

“Keenan. Get rid of her,” Mazen commands. “Elsewhere,” he adds as an afterthought. “A body won’t go unnoticed in this neighborhood.”

I feel as Elias must have felt only a short time ago. Betrayed. Desolate. Fear and panic threaten to strangle me; I knot them up and shove them away.

Keenan tries to take my arm, but I dodge him, pulling out Elias’s dagger. Mazen’s men rush forward, but I’m closer than they are, and they aren’t fast enough. In an instant, I have the blade at the Resistance leader’s throat.

“Back!” I say to the fighters. They lower their weapons reluctantly. My pulse pounds in my ears, and I have no fear in this moment, only rage for everything Mazen has put me through.

“You tell me where my brother is, you lying son of a whore.” When Mazen says nothing, I dig the blade in deeper, drawing out a thin line of blood. “Tell me,” I say. “Or I’ll slit your throat here and now.”

“I’ll tell you,” he rasps. “For all the good it will do. He’s in Kauf, girl. They shipped him there the day after the Moon Festival.”

Kauf. Kauf. Kauf. I force myself to believe it. To face it. Kauf, where my parents and sister were tortured and executed. Kauf, where only the foulest criminals are sent. To suffer. To rot. To die.

It’s over, I realize. Nothing I’ve endured—the whippings, the scarring, the beatings—none of it matters. The Resistance will kill me. Darin will die in prison. There’s nothing I can do to change it.

My knife is still at Mazen’s throat. “You’ll pay for this,” I say to him. “I swear it to the skies, to the stars. You’ll pay.”

“I very much doubt it, Laia.” His eyes dart over my shoulder and I turn—too late. I catch a flash of red hair and brown eyes before pain bursts in my temple and I fall into darkness.

???

When I come to, my first feeling is that of relief that I’m not dead. My next is of blunt, consuming rage as Keenan’s face swims into focus. Traitor! Deceiver! Liar!

“Thank the skies,” he says. “I thought I’d hit you too hard. No—wait—” I fumble for my knife, every second I’m conscious making me more lucid and, thus, more murderous. “I’m not going to hurt you, Laia. Please—listen.”

My knife is gone, and I look around wildly. He’s going to kill me now. We’re in some sort of large shed; sunlight seeps through the cracks between the warped wooden boards, and there’s a jungle of gardening implements leaning against the walls.

If I can escape him, I can hide out in the city. The Commandant thinks I’m dead, so if I can get the slaves’ cuffs off, I might be able to leave Serra. But then what? Do I go back to Blackcliff for Izzi, lest she be taken by the Commandant and tortured? Do I try to help Elias? Do I try to make my way to Kauf and break Darin out? The prison’s more than a thousand miles away. I have no idea how to get there. No skills to survive a country swarming with Martial patrols. If, by some miracle, I do make it there, how will I get in? How will I get out? Darin might be dead by then. He might be dead now.

He’s not dead. If he was dead, I’d know.

All this passes through my mind in an instant. I jump to my feet and lunge for a rake: Right now, what matters most is getting away from Keenan.

“Laia, no.” He grabs my arms and forces them to my sides. “I’m not going to kill you,” he says. “I swear it. Just listen.”

I stare into his dark eyes, hating myself for how weak and stupid I feel. “You knew, Keenan. You knew Mazen never wanted to help me. And you told me my brother was in the death cells. You used me—”