vicious [d.m]

nineteen: wraiths & dunes

Khione's head is deathly quiet.

She stands before Irvene, her mind racing, piecing together all the different scraps of information she's been fed throughout this conversation.

The words swirl in her head, an impossible labyrinth, an impasse at every turn. She thinks about the heaviness in her chest, sitting like a weight — evidence of the hole Malfoy's left within her. She thinks about kneeling in the sand and retching, one trembling hand reaching after her father's disappearing frame.

She will never beg again.

You control him — and then you kill him.

Irvene's voice still echoes within her mind, astonishingly clear despite the turmoil in there. She doesn't trust the red-headed witch. Doesn't trust her intentions.

"And why," Khione asks, quietly, "do you want him dead?"

Irvene's eyes narrow. "He's the General."

"You think if I kill him, you'll have a chance to win?" Khione tips her chin up, locking gazes with her. "You think I'll be easy to handle once he's gone?"

Irvene seems to size her up, her expression turning thoughtful. Khione thinks she's debating on how much to say — and when Irvene speaks, it's confirmation enough.

"No," she answers finally, her voice tight. "But getting rid of Malfoy means destabilising the entire regime."

She doesn't say it. Doesn't say 'destabilising Voldemort's regime.' Doesn't speak the words she knows to be traitorous.

Khione smirks, slowly. "I could sell you out."

"You wouldn't," Irvene responds, smoothly, arms crossed over her chest. "You're as traitorous as I am. V for vendetta and all that." She flashes Khione a brilliant smile.

Khione tenses.

"What, you thought I didn't know?" Irvene scoffs, glancing towards the stained glass window. "You poor thing. Lost Mummy and doesn't know what to do about it."

Fury flares to life in Khione's chest, crawling up her throat.

"Arioch talks," Irvene says, coyly, eyes flicking back to hers. "Given the right motivation."

And Khione remembers why she hates Irvene so much. Why she let acid eat away Radna's face and pulled out his eyes with her bare hands.

"You ruined his life," Khione says, although the word vinci is still wreaking havoc within her head. "He was a kid."

"So were you," Irvene says, raking her eyes over Khione's body. Her gaze is entirely too hungry for Khione's liking. "Did you feel the need to rape someone?"

Khione doesn't take the bait, although flames seem to lick at her fingertips. "Leave him alone."

Irvene pouts. "Oh, but he looks so sweet when he begs me to stop."

It takes effort not to gut her with the talon concealed in Khione's cardigan pocket — but she manages to restrain herself, steering the conversation back to where she wants it to go. Arioch is the least of her problems.

"What makes you think the only way to kill him is through me?" Khione asks next, the words sounding insane from her mouth. "You're capable. So are the other fourteen contestants left."

Irvene shakes her head, her mouth a grim line. "Malfoy is a god. He's untouchable."

She continues before Khione can respond. "You're the only one who's been able to keep him at bay so far. I suspect it has to do with the bond."