Dragon's Honor by Natalie Grey

Author:Natalie Grey [Grey, Natalie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-05-14T05:00:00+00:00

“What do you mean, he hasn’t talked?” India stared at the young guard, her braided hair pinned neatly to her head, and looked over her uniform. No dirt, no water … no blood. “What have you been doing, throwing him a tea party?”

“Ma’am—” The guard’s voice trailed off in a squeak at the look on India’s face.

“Were you trained in interrogation?”

“I … no, ma’am.”

“So, what exactly were you doing to our guest?” India stood up and made her way around the desk, straightening her uniform. The girl stood petrified.

India waited.

“I, um.” The girl looked down at her feet and seemed to give a little prayer. She laced her hands behind her back. “I told him that—”

“Look at me when you’re talking to me.”

The girl’s head jerked up. “I told him that it was clear he was part of the resistance, and that if he were to be charged with that, his family’s life would be forfeit.”

India sighed. The girl’s instincts weren’t wrong, but she lacked finesse.

And breaking someone’s spirit required, above all, finesse.

“Come with me.” She noted the name on the girl’s uniform. “Bismarck. What’s your first name?”

“Sara.” The girl looked over. She was walking half a step behind India, very properly.

Perhaps this district wasn’t entirely a lost cause.

The guards at the holding cells noted India’s name and uniform and stood aside without being ordered. She liked that. Clearly, someone had told them not to do anything stupid. Was it too much to hope that the someone in question had been Captain Eddis?

Probably.

The man they had caught was in the very last cell. He could hear the other prisoners, but he was far from them, held apart. India wondered if that had been good instincts again on the part of Bismarck, or just lucky coincidence.

India squatted down and peered at the man through the bars. Sandy hair fell into his eyes, and he had the lean body of someone who worked too hard and ate too little. He was leaning against the back wall, bruises blooming all over his torso. They’d been made haphazardly, by someone who plainly knew that torture involved hurting people, but who’d had no plan beyond that.

Good Lord, these people were incompetent.

“Stefan.” India made her voice sweet. She smiled when his head jerked up. “Do you know who I am?”

He stared at her, plainly wanting to answer out of politeness, and holding himself back when he remembered who and what she was. He looked down again.

Which meant he was almost certainly part of the resistance. If not yet, then he would be soon. Anyone with sense would be groveling right now. This man was clearly disobedient by nature.

“I’m Sergeant Quince,” India told him. “I have been tasked, personally, by the Warlord himself, with ridding Io District of the resistance.”

He did not look up, but his body went tense.

“Yes,” India said simply. “Which means you and I are allies now, Stefan.”

Now he did look up, as if he thought she were crazy—and then, when her smile did not slip, as if he knew the shape of what was coming.

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