[City of Spires 02] • City of Betrayal by Arseneault Claudie

Author:Arseneault, Claudie [Arseneault, Claudie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction, Adult, Fantasy, Politics
ISBN: 9781974699902
Goodreads: 36199941
Publisher: The Kraken Collective
Published: 2017-10-22T00:00:00+00:00

The creak of his prison door woke Varden with a start. His heart jumped into his throat, and he scrambled for the corner of the tiny cell, hands scraping against the uneven stone beneath him. He curled up there, trembling, keeping his eyes away from the newcomer. He didn’t want to look there, knew too well who he would find.

Who, though? Terror clawed at his heart as he struggled for a name. He could not allow himself to forget. Avenazar. Master Avenazar of the Myrian Enclave. He had to remember that. Arms tightening around his knees, Varden reached into his mind for his personal litany—his shield against the ravage in his memories. He was High Priest Varden Daramond. He was Isbari, and respected by his community. He loved men. He loved to draw. He had tried to save Branwen and to protect Nevian. And he was proud of these things. As long as he let none of them go—as long as he remembered who he was—he had won. Avenazar would not erase him.

“You grow more pathetic with every day.”

The snide voice buzzed in his ears. Varden cocked his head and tried to make himself tinier, to vanish into the wall. He had learned not to retort, to just let Avenazar talk and endure. Anything else launched the wizard into the most horrible flights of destructive magic. The best he could do was wait for the torture to start, then wait for it to go away. Although … they’d brought several minuscule meals since the last visit. Perhaps it had been a while? Varden tried to count, to get a measure of time, but the days blurred into one another. Once, he knew, he had been able to instinctively feel sunset. Iced shackles had blocked that away, stealing Keroth from him.

“I don’t understand what Jilssan sees in you.” Avenazar’s boots scuffed on the floor as he approached. He set his toe against Varden’s leg and pushed it. “She thinks it’s a shame I’m letting you rot away. Poor girl. It only took a little romance to destroy her pragmatism.”

Varden’s fingers dug into his shins. Jilssan’s admission of interest had disturbed him, but the idea that it had pulverized her cunning manipulative skills held its own kind of ridicule. If she’d implied to Avenazar that she had more than a passing fancy for him, then she must have wanted something. But what? Varden tried to gather his scattered thoughts. Avenazar often mocked him, yet he was clearly aiming for a longer conversation today. What had changed? Did it relate to Jilssan? Hard to say what. Hard to do anything at all. But the wizard’s cruel enthusiasm had morphed; of that, Varden was certain. He lifted his hand and risked a glance at the thin face. Avenazar’s skin had always been drawn tight against his skull. The cell’s dim light gave it an even deadlier appearance.

“She does have a point,” Avenazar said. “We could do much better with you.”

Varden’s throat tightened. What had

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