the wounds. The pain mercifully faded under his magic, and he let his arm drop to the floor, his eyes rolling back into his head.
“Emane, are you okay?”
“How do you think I am?” he said, his voice wavering. Layla surely attributed the waver to pain and exhaustion. It was partly that, but more from a raging anger that she and Dralazar, in hurting him, had also hurt Kiora. But that was something Layla could never know. If Dralazar realized . . . Emane shuddered. It would be horrible for both of them.
“Is the pain gone?”
Emane finally looked over. Layla was kneeling at the bars, her face looking genuinely concerned. She had been different lately, at least when Dralazar was absent.
His insides were shaking and shuddering at the trauma of being burned and healed, over and over again. “Yes,” he lied. “It’s gone.”
Layla jerked up suddenly, scrambling to her feet. Emane didn’t need to feel threads to know what was happening. Dralazar. Closing his eyes, he dropped his head back onto his bloodied wrist.
Dralazar came and sat in one of the armchairs. Layla moved to the other, shifting nervously from side to side while Dralazar kept his eyes locked on Emane, spinning the large silver ring on his finger.
“You have seen what happens when I lose my temper,” Dralazar finally said. “I would hate for it to happen again.”
Emane didn’t bother to uncurl from his ball.
“Dralazar, please,” Layla said, so quietly Emane had to strain to hear. “You are going to kill him.”
Dralazar turned his head to the side. “I think he would like that, wouldn’t you, Emane?”
“It seems like a viable option,” he muttered between clenched teeth.
“One you will not get, I am afraid.” He stood, stalking towards the crackling bars. “Do you have any idea how long a person can live under torture?”
Emane stared at Dralazar’s shoes.
“As long as I pace myself, you’ll live a very long time. Eventually, you will be so incoherent with pain and exhaustion, you will give in.”
“I won’t help you.”
“You will.” Dralazar crouched down, trying to force Emane to look at him. “Because I am going to let you in on a little secret. When Kiora comes for you, which I am sure she will, I will kill her. But not you. You will continue to live a long and torturous existence because you have something I need. There is no escaping me, Emane. Not until you give me what I want.”
Emane snorted. “And then what will you do after I heal you? Will you kill me then?”
Dralazar’s mouth formed a long, lazy smile as he stood. Waving his hand, a small section of bars flickered out, and he strode in.
Emane scrambled halfway up, pushing himself backwards across the floor. “What are you doing?”
Another flick of Dralazar’s hand and the bars returned behind him. “I am tired of waiting. I will have your cooperation, and I will have it today.” He rubbed his hands together. “Because today there will be no blacking out. If you do, I will heal you. Not enough to stop the pain, mind you, just enough to keep you conscious for as long as it takes for you to give me what I want.”
Emane tried to stand, but Dralazar knocked his feet out from under him with a burst of magic, slamming him to the ground. The fire came next, licking new areas across his legs and back.
Again, as he writhed on the floor, his pain returned doubled. He would have gladly endured it had it been taking away Kiora’s pain. But it wasn’t. Wherever she was, he knew she was feeling every bit of the attack.
Emane! Kiora’s thoughts were strained, both a cry for help and a cry for his pain.
Dralazar focused his attack around Emane’s armband, super-heating the metal. Throwing his head back he screamed, feeling Kiora’s simultaneous scream rattle through his bones.
Even as Dralazar’s fire ceased, the armband continued to sear and burn into his flesh. His hand automatically moved to claw at it, burning the tips of his fingers before he jerked his hand back.
“Please,” Emane gasped. “Stop.” He looked over at the armchair, expecting to see Layla ready to help Dralazar with the torture. But she was gone.
Dralazar’s eyes followed Emane’s. “It’s just you and me, Emane. Layla seems to have had an attack of conscience. I will deal with her later.” Dralazar’s hands flew out again, the magic burning as it pushed him backwards.
He clawed at the floor, trying to prevent himself from slamming