Tarashana by Rachel Neumeier (little red riding hood ebook TXT) 📕

a serious insult for Lau, as it is for Ugaro. But Aras only asked, “Kerren, who else knew what you intended to do?”

“No one,” the young man told him. He had overset himself, breaking the goblet, and with his arms bound behind his back struggled to get back to his knees. Geras grabbed his arm and hauled him upright, and he gathered himself up as well as he could. He said, “You know it’s true. No one knew. I didn’t tell anybody. I wouldn’t.”

“You were Lorellan’s thrall? I’m correct in that?”

“You know I was.” The young man—Kerren—took a breath, and another breath. Then he looked straight at Aras and began to say worse things to him than he had said to me. I had lived among Lau soldiers for a long time, but even so I had never heard some of the things he said. Geras pulled him up again, this time pressing a forearm across his throat to stop him. He said grimly, “I’m sorry, my lord. I’ll gag him.”

“No need,” Aras said. “He’s using anger. He'll give that up soon, when he sees it doesn't help.” His tone was perfectly calm. Nothing the young man had said had moved him at all—or if anything had touched him, he did not show that. “He learned quite a bit about resisting true sorcery while Lorellan had him in thrall. More than I would have expected. I don’t know what he’s trying to hide now. I wouldn’t have thought there was anything else important enough to try so hard. A friend, perhaps, to whom he said too much. A girl.” He paused. Then he said, speaking now to the young man. “As she’s not your wife, she isn’t liable to punishment under the decree. As long as she didn’t know what you intended to do, she's safe.”

Kerren could not lower his head; he could not hide his face. The way Geras held him, he could barely breathe. When he sobbed, he could not hide that. One of the soldiers, a younger man, shifted uncomfortably. Geras only looked down at the assassin and then at Lord Aras, waiting for orders. His expression did not change and he did not ease his hold.

“Exhaustion alone is enough to break almost anyone’s dignity,” Aras said gently. “And the rest of this is worse. It’s not your fault.” He had not needed to say that. I thought perhaps now he was ready to take a kinder manner. But he did not stop. I supposed that, having brought the young man to this state, he would be foolish to stop while there were still things he wished to learn.

He did not ask anything about the girl. He asked, “How long were you enthralled? All right, let me ask it this way: how old were you when he first made you his thrall? All right. How many summers do you have now? Twenty-four? Almost twenty-six.”

That was older than I had thought, but not much older.

Aras went on without pausing. “So you had two years to learn to resist his sorcery. Could you ever do it? How nearly did you come to resisting?” He glanced up, nodded to a soldier. “Give him more wine. Geras, let him drink. Kerren Rahavet, drink what they give you. Don’t break another goblet.”

This time, the young man did not break the goblet. Nor did he spit, or say anything offensive. He drank the wine. Then he slumped back on his heels, his head bowed, and said, his voice ragged, “Just ask me. I’ll tell you.”

“That would be easier,” Aras agreed. “How did you learn to resist Lorellan’s will?”

Kerren did not look up. He said, speaking as though each word took an effort, “I couldn’t. No one could. Except a little, if he didn’t care much. If ... if he wanted something that I hated, truly hated ... I couldn’t resist, but he couldn’t make me think I didn’t hate it.”

I wondered what acts he thought of when he explained that. He did not say, and Aras did not ask, and probably I did not really want to know.

“Yet you could resist a little? Tell me something about that.”

“You know it already. If he didn’t care. If he wasn’t paying attention.”

“Fear could help you act on your own behalf at those times? And anger. Yes. I don’t think you ever said anything like that to him.”

A slight shake of the head. Even then he did not look up.

“You weren’t desperate enough. Well, that’s a distinction of a sort, I suppose: I’ve managed to drive a young man to greater desperation in twenty minutes than Lorellan did in two years. No, I’m honestly not at all interested in the young woman. Stop worrying about her. She didn't help you with what you tried to do? No one helped you, is that so?”

Another headshake. The young man was slumping more and more. Geras gripped him now just to hold him up right.

“Why did you try to kill me?” Aras asked

Kerren looked up at that, swaying but incredulous.

“I know,” said Aras. “But let’s be sure. I realize you believe I'm as vicious as Lorellan; that the only difference between us is that I'm better at hiding my true nature. That was the sole reason you made this attempt, yes? Yes.” He leaned back in his chair, sighing. He picked up his scepter, but put it down again at once. After a moment, he said, this time in a different tone, much less stern, “Kerren, I wish you'd managed a more rational assessment of my character, but I understand that was almost impossible after Lorellan's treatment of you. I'm grateful that you did at least have the basic good sense and decency to keep your plans to yourself. Appalling as this is, it could have been worse.”

Then he said to Geras, “Take him away, clean