Chapter 36 · The Inquisition Gates

"Hold her still. If she screams, cut the tongue," Vane barked.

I didn't scream. I couldn't even breathe. Two guards had me pinned to a cold stone slab, their grip so tight my ribs groaned. The air tasted like old copper and burnt ozone—the smell of a thousand broken minds.

Inquisitor Vane leaned in. He didn't shout. He spoke in a dry, rattling whisper that felt like sandpaper on my nerves. In his hand, a jagged obsidian needle hummed with a sickly violet light.

"The Regent wants to know where your confidence comes from, Princess," Vane murmured. He scanned my face, hunting for a flicker of fear. "He thinks you've found a teacher. Or a ghost in the machine. Tell me, and I'll make the peeling quick."

I spat blood onto the stone. "Your boss is just pissed because a 'powerless pawn' made him look like a toddler throwing a tantrum in front of the whole court. That's a lot of ego for one man, isn't it?"

Vane didn't flinch. He just slammed the needle into the soft skin of my collarbone.

White-hot agony exploded. It wasn't just pain; it was a frequency attack.