Esharah’s mind spun as she awoke, empathy still smothered by the Mindspeaker’s influence. The memories flashed. The Vulgares’ presence in the keep, followed by the silence as the Mindspeaker attacked. She’d fought, but trying to fight battles in her mind and the actual Vulgares pursuing Etrani at the same time proved impossible. Then...

  Silence and darkness.

  That left her here, lying on the dirt floor of a low hut, the kind found in any small imperial village. Most, however, were not filled with the mix of beastkin, ogre, and human vis all leering at her like this.

  “Mornin’ beautiful,” a bald, tattooed man grinned, revealing a mouth of broken teeth. Gods, his breath smelled foul.

  Esharah reached out, only to find her empathy still blocked by the Mindspeaker’s presence. Still wary, darting in and out of Esharah’s mind to avoid the memories of the Thorn that Esharah could wield in these mental battles. Not enough to completely silence Esharah’s abilities, but enough to stymie them.

  “So,” Sergrud of the Vulgares sat on a rough oak armchair as if it were a throne, “you’re Hellfrost’s Mindspeaker, eh? Esharah, is it?”

  Esharah forced a smile, “Sorry, you’ve got the wrong woman.”

  A mental prod from the ogress Mindspeaker, “This is Esharah...Esharah Nightblood.”

  Esharah rewarded the intrusion with a stab of a particularly potent memory, one sharing pain with Janaya as both Yvris’ Book of Souls and Janaya’s self-inflicted Hellfire wounds combined. The ogress flinched back, biting her knuckles to stifle the whimper.

  Sergrud froze, eyes widening, and before the Mindspeaker intercepted her, Esharah caught a flash of recognition in the man, “Nightblood. Hells.” He leaned forward, eyes burning, “You’re Vestra’s sister. Esha.”

  “Don’t call me that,” the words left Esharah’s lips even as the surprise stole conscious thought. Even Vestra using it only brought bitter memories of a childhood ripped away. “You...you know Vestra?”

  “Know her?” a grin twisted Sergrud’s face. “Aye. I knew her.”

  Dodging around the Mindspeaker’s block, Esharah caught glimpses of the memories as they flashed in his mind. Sergrud as a tall, angry young man banished from the legions for being bold when all others were cowards. Consigned to Hellfrost, left to beat worthless prisoners instead of crush the empire’s enemies. Vestra, the newest Warden at Hellfrost. Confident, strong, gorgeous. An attraction, deep, fiery, passionate-

  Esharah retreated even before the ogress blocked her again. Gods, did Vestra intentionally choose the worst men in Hellfrost for her lovers?

  “Knew her more than any other man did,” Sergrud gave a cocky grin.

  Esharah glared back, “Strange, she never mentioned you.”

  Sergrud snorted, “Not surprised. Whore sank her claws in her next victim before my cell door even closed. First me, then Azak, then others. She ever make her way round to Erdrak? Bastard was aiming for her for years.”

  “She did,” Esharah replied. “And she killed Erdrak after we defeated him.”

  Sergrud laughed, “That right? Gods, that’s a treat. Never would’ve guessed you were Vestra’s blood when we saw the dezar in Hellfrost.” His gaze went back to Esharah’s face, “I see the family resemblance now, though. Didn’t want to say all you dezar look the same, but there we go.”

  A crack sounded as the tattooed man flexed his knuckles, eyes burning with eagerness, “If this is Vestra’s sister, we can have all sorts of fun. There’s more’n a few scars I need to pay back-”

  “Down, Patz,” Sergrud hurled an empty flagon with enough force that it shattered against the man’s head, sending him staggering back and cursing while clutching his bleeding scalp.

  In mere seconds, however, the wounds closed. Not burning shut as Janaya’s did, more as if the flesh and bone simply merged back together, leaving only small ridges where the wounds were. Maybe that accounted for the bony growths covering the man’s body like a furrowed field.

  “She’s a hostage, thick-skull,” Sergrud said, sounding little more than bored over the man’s antics. “She won’t have value if you break her.”

  Patz shrugged and grunted, still nursing his wound and muttering curses.

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  “A hostage,” Esharah echoed. To what end? Surely they didn’t believe the empire would accept giving up Hellfrost for one woman. Esharah had no illusions. The empire valued her as a useful tool. Even a fool wouldn’t give away a fortress to reclaim a tool. Etrani was the furthest thing from a fool. “That’s what you want from me?”

  “What we want,” Sergrud leaned forward and poked her forehead with one finger. Even that light touch held enough power behind that Esharah knew with certainty that he could have drilled the finger right through her skull if he desired, “is everything inside that pretty head. You know everything that goes on in Hellfrost, yeah? You’re going to tell us.”

  “Oh, am I?”

  “Or you’ll suffer,” the canin beast gloated, looking positively thrilled at the prospect.

  Esharah sighed and unleashed a blast of everything she’d suffered in Hellfrost at Yvris’ hands over two years of torture. The Mindspeaker blocked some of it. Not all. The black-furred felin hissed, the tattooed man howled, the canin snarled. Sergrud himself jolted back, hand flying to his spear for a moment before he changed targets and leapt to his feet to grab Patz.

  “I’ll kill the bitch!” Patz roared, struggling in Sergrud’s grip and foaming at the mouth. “I’ll kill her!”

  Sergrud hurled the man out the door with a single grip, “Cool your damn head.” He slammed the door shut and turned back to Esharah, wiping sweat from his brow.

  Esharah tried not to smile, but couldn’t hide it. She’d done something.

  “You’ve got some bite,” Sergrud sat back on his throne. He let out a long breath through his nose, knuckles whitening as he unclenched his fist.

  “That was just a memory,” Esharah bared her teeth at the captors, “of what I’ve already suffered. You can do what you want to me. It won’t be worse than I’ve already endured. I’ve already suffered a thousand tortures and died a hundred deaths. There’s a woman in Hellfrost who heals even better than your...friend, Patz. As a prisoner, they tested that ability thoroughly. They tried hanging, drowning, carving out her heart. They gouged out her eyes, ripped her nails out, cut away each finger and each limb.” A particularly grisly memory of Janaya’s torture came to mind. “Once, they cut off her head and tossed it in a separate cell while burying the body. The head screamed and spat hellfire for hours before they finally brought it back to the body. And I felt every. Last. Second. Of that torture.” Esharah met Sergrud’s gaze, “I lived through it all. Don’t try to threaten me with torture. I doubt you have Yvris’ creativity.”

  Sergrud stared at her for a long while, before another smile cracked his fae, “Aye, you’re her sister alright. Got that same arrogance.”

  “I’m nothing like Vestra.”

  “Sure you are,” Sergrud said. “She thinks she’s the strongest in the world, you think you’ve suffered more than anyone in the world. Same coin, different sides.” He leaned back, “Right then, I won’t insult you by trying to torture information out of you. How about a bribe, then. What do you want?”

  The change threw her off. With the Mindspeaker recovered and now firmly blocking her, Esharah couldn’t tell if there was anything at all genuine in the offer. Sergrud, at the least, had no ability to block her and did his best thinking out loud. That much, Esharah knew. “What I want is to be back in Hellfrost.”

  “Well, you’re in luck,” Sergrud grinned, “I want that too. We take the keep, you’re back in it.”

  “Take it, with what army?” Esharah asked, incredulous. All their blustering, and all Sergrud had managed was capturing one woman. “Even if you break into Hellfrost, you won’t hold it for a week. We lived after overthrowing Yvris and Erdrak only by the Governor’s mercy. You think he’ll show the same mercy twice? The moment he learns you have Hellfrost, he’ll march a legion on you, led by Vestra and his other enforcers to burn Hellfrost to the ground so it troubles him no more.”

  Sergrud laughed, “Good. I’ve been wanting a reunion with Vestra.”

  A glimpse at his mind before the Mindspeaker cut her off. This man was serious. He truly, deeply believed that he could hold Hellfrost against a legion, could defeat Vestra vis Nightblood in battle. Arrogant beyond reason, and if he really believed it, he could make reality itself bend to his will. “You can’t defeat her.”

  Sergrud’s expression darkened. The smile was still there, but now there was something else, an edge to his voice. “I’ve spent five years dreaming of nothing else. I broke through to the peak of the 3rd circle for no other purpose than bringing that bitch down.”

  Esharah’s turn to laugh, “Vestra’s fourth circle. She reached it years ago. You’ve no hope of catching up to her. You’re walking to your death.”

  “See? Like I said, that same arrogance,” Sergrud stood, looming over Esharah, eyes burning with a rage that had burned for years. “I killed a 3rd circle when I was 2nd circle. Power doesn’t make you invincible. That’s what the empire doesn’t understand. It’s all about tactics. Your sister will find out when I beat her.”

  “Then what?”

  He turned, frowning at the question. “What do you mean, ‘what’?”

  “What happens after you beat Vestra? Defeat the Governor’s legions? Hold Hellfrost?” She paused, and when he didn’t answer, “Do you think this will make the empire leave you alone? It won’t end there. It will only begin.”

  “Bah,” Sergrud didn’t argue. Didn’t even try. He just waved dismissively, as if the future was no concern at all. She was the arrogant one? “Dammit, this is getting me thirsty. Teja, more wine.”

  The black furred felin turned to glare at him, looking positively offended by the request, “I’m not a servant, you ass. Get it yourself.”

  “Eat shit,” Sergrud grumbled, storming out of the hut, the canin following him with a last growl at Esharah.

  Esharah only sat stunned. The menacing doom threatening Hellfrost was just so...petty. Even childish.

  “This is your leader?” Esharah asked the ogress. “Why would you follow someone like him?”

  “You would do well not to underestimate Sergrud,” the reply came. The ogress rose, nodding to the felin Teja, and the two departed as well.

  Childish or not, the Vulgares had her trapped here. Leaving Hellfrost less defended, Etrani and Aven vulnerable. Esharah was right in the heart of the enemy. In a sense, just as she’d been for the past two years. Esharah smiled. Yvris learned what it meant to keep a wounded, angry Mindspeaker around. The Vulgares would learn the same.

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