Twelve redoubled her efforts, kicking out at the weaponsmaster, ignoring the pain as she tried to pull her arm free. A spine-tingling sound brought her up short. Morgren was watching them both and he was laughing. As he doubled over with mirth, his handful of green fire blazed all the brighter. His rasping chuckles resounded around the training ground and other goblins began to join in. They sounded just like crows.

“Oh, Victory,” he gasped. “This is the one you spoke about? Are you sure?”

“Very,” Victory said grimly, her grip tightening until Twelve cried out.

Morgren wiped tears from his eyes and straightened up, his expression serious again. Twelve swallowed down her fear as he stepped forward, examining her. Up close, she could see his eyes were violet and his hair long and dark, tied back in a ponytail. He was taller than the other goblins by a head and much better dressed, a long fur cloak trailing from his shoulders.

“And yet she didn’t tell you anything,” he murmured, his eyes flicking to Victory. “Not very cooperative. Although I’m sure I can . . . loosen her tongue. We need to know where that Guardian is—he could ruin all our plans.”

The smile that spread over his face sent chills down Twelve’s spine. She forced her face to stay blank and jutted her chin at him. Appearing frightened, she thought, would be fatal.

“Ah, she has spirit though,” he grinned. “I admire that.” His eyes met Twelve’s and his smile became wolfish. “I do hope you aren’t planning on cooperating too quickly, huntling. It’s been so long since my last interrogation.”

Twelve squeezed her hands into fists to stop them from shaking as he reached inside his cloak and drew out a blade. It was short and squat, an ugly thing, but the edge caught the ghastly green light and gleamed, its sharpness beyond doubt.

“This is a family heirloom,” Morgren told her, his fingers caressing the hilt. “It’s called Skin and it has flayed some of the greatest names in history. It almost seems a shame to use it on someone as insignificant as you, but . . .” He shrugged carelessly and touched the icy blade to her cheek. Twelve’s breath caught at the touch of the metal. “No point in me sharpening it if I don’t use it,” he whispered. His eyes blazed with a sickening excitement.

“Stop it, Morgren,” Victory tutted, jerking Twelve backward and away from the blade. “I’ll get the answers we need. In the meantime, remember she wasn’t alone. We should collapse the tunnels to be on the safe side.”

“As soon as we’ve emptied them,” he growled, glaring at the scurrying goblins behind him.

“No, now,” Victory said firmly. “The Guardian is probably nearby. If he regains entry, all of this was for nothing.”