“‘Probably nearby’ is not good enough for such drastic measures,” Morgren said. He pointed his blade at Twelve’s eye. “She knows for sure where he is. Let me take over the questioning.”

“No,” Victory said evenly. “I’d like to keep her in one piece if at all possible.”

Morgren smirked and inclined his head, then raised his voice to a shout. “Where is the Croke?”

A breathless goblin appeared by his side instantly. “Expected any moment, my lord,” he gasped.

“Good,” Morgren said. “See what you can do, Victory. The Croke can take over when it arrives.”

Victory made a noncommittal sound and shoved Twelve toward the council house.

“No!” Twelve yelled, fighting in earnest now, wishing more than anything that she had her axes. “You traitor, how could you? What have you done with the other Hunters?”

Victory’s fist connected solidly with her temple, making Twelve see stars. Her knees buckled. She felt Victory drag her up the steps and into the Great Hall.

Chapter

Forty

By the time she could see properly again, she was tied to a chair in the middle of the cavernous room. All around the walls, goblins were stacking crates. A rough wooden scaffold had been thrown up and, high above her, more goblins were prying the moonstones from the ceiling with wicked-looking blades. Green-flame torches gave the scene an underwater, otherworldly quality.

Twelve drew a shuddering breath and stared at the weaponsmaster sitting in front of her. Victory looked perfectly calm and composed in the midst of the devastation she had wrought.

“I trusted you,” Twelve whispered, shock hammering through her. “I looked up to you. I . . . I wanted to be like you.” The thought made her sick now.

Victory smiled. “That’s because we’re the same, Twelve,” she said gently.

Twelve shook her head so hard it throbbed in protest. “Where are the other Hunters? The other huntlings? What have you done to them?”

Victory narrowed her eyes. “You mean the Hunters who did nothing but complain about you? Failed to see your potential? The huntlings who despised you?”

Twelve’s mouth felt like it was filled with sand. She didn’t trust herself to speak.

Victory’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I didn’t kill them, if that’s what you mean. Not yet anyway. The Croke will tell us which will bend to our cause. Those that won’t will be . . . disposed of.” A smile ghosted across her lips. “A thousand years of history, hundreds of attacks repelled, and the lodge finally falls. To me.” The smile spread into a grin that didn’t reach the Hunter’s eyes. “So much attention focused outward, but none inward. In the end, it was easier than some of the hunts I’ve been on.”

“What did you do?” Twelve asked again, her voice shaking. The ropes were tight around her wrists and ankles. She was losing feeling in her fingers and she wriggled them desperately.