Abolisher [Drothiker #2]

20.

Vendrik awoke to loud steps.

His head lulled sideways as he lifted it to gaze outside the cell where guards had crammed. Outside his cell.

The sentries whispered. But Vendrik's mind was too slackened to register anything.

The cell unfastened; someone was mercilessly hurled to the stone floor, hands fettered at his back; the cell fastened.

Vendrik blinked, waiting for his mind to take everything in as the guards' steps faded. The man seemed familiar, even as Vendrik couldn't see his face, the broad shoulders were familiar, the glorious height was familiar, the tattoo—no, zegruks—scarring his arm was familiar.

The whip scars on his naked back were familiar.

Vendrik's mind rushed then, and all the fuzziness from his head vanished.

Azryle.

Hours passed, Azryle finally stirred, groaned.

Vendrik hadn't been able to take his eyes off his friend, wishing desperately, absurdly, that the zegruks would dissolve into his skin, that when he would turn, the face would be someone else's. Some other unlucky fool's face. Because Azryle could afford to be neither unlucky, nor a fool. Not now.

The muscles in the other man's shoulders went taut, grasping he was in a cell. He attempted to move his arms, probing the dresteen shackles. Then let out a defeated sigh.

The muscles went stiff again, and Vendrik knew the man—the ripper—was sniffing his scent. It took only that and all the hope in him came crumpling down.

All of this—all the torments for the past year—for nothing.

Living without his fire for over a year—powerless and helpless—for nothing.

Losing Binou—Binou—for nothing.

Vendrik wanted to scream, in rage, in the utter impotence that seized him, he didn't know. He didn't know.

Ryle must have scented it all, because there was another defeated sigh before he rested his head on the ground. "They took everything."

Vendrik was struck enough that he attempted to surge forward like an untamed animal, despite the shackles, despite the burns still hurting. "That's really all you have to say right now?" he snarled.

"Rik—"

"You had one task—to stay away from her. You should know how to do that better than anyone. You've never failed at anything, Ryle, and you fail at this?"

"I tried—"

"It wasn't enough," Vendrik burst out, his voice cracking. All the horrors he'd met this past year featured one by one before his eyes—the glass piercing in his skin, his back on fire, the daggers stabbed one by one in his chest, the tearing skin, his hand dipped in burning coal—"Do you know the things I've seen this past year? The things she's done? Only so you could go live—"