She woke to complete darkness and the smell of urine, mold, and moss. Her cell had no windows, and she had no idea what time it was. Kyra lay curled on her side, listening to the sound of her own ragged breathing. The hard stone bruised her hip, but she knew everything would hurt more if she tried to stand.

She couldn’t erase the images from her dream. Had it been Lettie the whole time or just at the end? She would never hurt Lettie in real life. Or would she? The scene was too vivid, the bloodlust too strong. Perhaps she was going mad. Or maybe James was right, and the assassin inside her was just waiting to come out.

Footsteps sounded outside her door. She barely had time to sit up before lantern light flooded the cell. Kyra cast a hand over her eyes. The guards surrounded and shackled her in a well-practiced routine, hooding her again before marching her out. Her muscles protested at the abrupt start, but she doubted her escorts would slow at her request.

Tristam waited in the interrogation room, arms crossed, as her guards shackled her into place across from him. This time, she took a closer look at the knight. He was tall, with a broad chest, muscular shoulders. While he didn’t have Malikel’s commanding presence, there was a sense of focus about him. He really wanted something, and Kyra had a feeling it involved her.

“Are you ready to talk?” His voice was cold, with no trace of the uncertainty from the day before.

Bacchus’s voice echoed in Kyra’s head, teasing her like the lamp’s dancing flames. Which finger do we take off first? Was that what they’d do to Lettie if she said anything?

When she didn’t respond, Tristam spoke again. “We don’t have time for games. If I get nothing from you today, we’ll deliver you to the torture chamber.”

Kyra’s breath caught despite herself. He was serious about the torture.

“Your compound is secure, but it’s got its weaknesses,” she said. “I can show you where they are.”

Tristam’s jaw tightened. “I said no games.”

“I in’t playing games.”

Tristam scrutinized Kyra in the dim light. “You’re offering me a small amount of information to avoid telling me what I really want to know.”

She had to be careful. The knight might be hostile, but he was not slow. “It’s useful information,” she countered, feigning a confidence she didn’t feel. “Easy to check, and you don’t have to lift a finger to get it out of me. If you’re not satisfied, I’ll be here for more chats.”

He eyed her suspiciously. “Fine,” he finally said. “What can you tell me?”