Chapter 348: Leave It To The Professional

Blair rolled with it. The stumble lasted a quarter of a second before she planted her foot, leaned down into Marek’s hooded face, and grabbed the wet burlap with both hands.

"WHO WERE YOU MEETING WITH?"

Zero buildup. Zero context. Zero of the careful psychological framework Damon had been constructing. Blair Drakencrest had walked into a professional interrogation and turned it into a street fight in under four seconds.

"I don’t know what you’re—"

"WRONG ANSWER." She shook the bag. Water sprayed off the burlap in every direction. "You were in the eastern corridor at three in the morning talking about half-bloods and matebonds and severing bonds and kill switches. I HEARD you. Now give me a name or I will make this bucket look like a warm bath."

Damon leaned back in his chair, deciding whether to intervene or observe. His instincts said intervene. His intelligence said this might actually work faster.

He observed.

He had been in rooms with warlords, assassins, and a wolf king who could end a conversation by standing up. None of them had walked into a room and seized it the way Blair Drakencrest just did.

"Princess, you are making a grievous mistake," Marek sputtered through the wet sack. "Lord Solandris will—"

She shook it again. Harder. The chair creaked in its bolts. Water hit Damon’s boots, Brennan’s robes, and a six-foot radius of stone that had been dry three seconds ago.

Damon looked down at his boots. Looked back up at Blair. Did not move his feet. Moving them would be an acknowledgment that the situation had affected him and Damon was not prepared to acknowledge anything that was happening.

"Lord Solandris. You’re threatening ME with LORD SOLANDRIS." She let out an evil laugh. The kind of laugh that started in the chest and ended in a place that made every man in the room reconsider their life choices. "The man whose wife you’ve been inside of on a weekly basis. You think HE’S going to save you? Navarre, give me a break."

"You have no proof that I am doing that. Solandris will—"

Blair clapped twice in front of his bagged face. Marek jolted and let out a small scream.

"I didn’t bring a second bucket, Navarre. I brought FOUR. They are lined up in the hallway like little soldiers. Each one is colder than the last because I asked the kitchen to add ICE to the next one. The last one will burn your skin off."

In the hallway, Sterling pinched the bridge of his nose. Ryker took a swig of his flask. And Griffin was stuck determining if she had three more buckets or if that was a lie. He hadn’t seen her with more buckets.

Sterling cracked first. He opened the door. Marek had the bag on his face and wouldn’t see them. Ryker didn’t argue. Both of them wanted to watch the princess conduct this interrogation. Griffin was behind both of them, on his toes, trying to see over their shoulders with the energy of a man who had been banned from the conversation and was attending anyway.

Griffin dropped to a whisper so quiet it was almost lip-reading. "She’s also standing on his foot. Has been for the last thirty seconds. I don’t think anyone else has noticed."

Ryker looked. Blair’s left boot was planted directly on top of Marek’s right foot with the casual weight distribution of a woman who was either doing it on purpose or had the most strategically inconvenient posture in interrogation history.

Sterling: That’s intentional.

Ryker: Obviously it’s intentional. Everything she does is intentional. She BREATHES with intent.

Sterling’s eyes moved from Blair to Damon. Then back to Blair. Then back to Damon. The second pass was slower than the first.

Damon Tavian’s expression was one that Sterling recognized because he had worn it himself. It was the expression of a man watching Blair Drakencrest do something extraordinary.

His jaw shifted by a fraction that Ryker noticed and wisely did not comment on.

"Princess, I—"

Blair pulled the wet sack off his head in one motion. Marek blinked against the torchlight. For one second, he saw a nice dragon princess.

SMACK.

Her palm cracked across his face so hard the sound bounced off three walls and came back for seconds.

Sack back on his head. The second it was secured, Blair shook her hand. The slap had stung her palm more than she’d anticipated. She flexed her fingers and made a mental note that slapping was a full-contact sport and she should have stretched first.

Damon watched Blair hide a wince. Sterling watched Damon watch Blair hide the wince.

The sequence took two seconds. In those two seconds, Sterling learned that the wolf Beta was tracking Blair’s movements with a specificity that went beyond professional observation, because professional observers didn’t watch a woman’s fingers with the focus Damon was giving them.

Sterling’s arms crossed. They had been at his sides. Now they were crossed. The repositioning was involuntary, territorial, and loud enough that Ryker took a half-step sideways to give him room.

"That was so you know what’s under the bag. Now you get to sit here and THINK about that while I ask you again."

Damon didn’t move.

"Lord Solandris will receive an envelope containing a sketch, a testimony, and a very detailed letter about what his Master Mage does with his wife on Thursday evenings. I also know about the herbalist in the fourth district. The one you visit on your knees." She leaned closer. "Do you want me to keep going or do you want to tell me who was in that corridor?"

Marek’s breathing changed. The half-second inhale Brennan had warned about stretched to a full second, which meant the lie he was constructing was bigger than the last one and required more oxygen.

Blair didn’t wait for it.

"Ex," she called toward the door without turning around. She said ex because she wasn’t sure if Brennan’s identity was given away yet.

Brennan was leaning against the wall, waiting for his cue. Blair turned her head to look at him. No words were needed.

He watched Marek’s chest for two seconds. The inhale was held. The fingers were still. Then he gave a nod that communicated: yes, this man is lying.

Damon watched, amused and also impressed. She didn’t need Brennan. That was the part that kept landing. She had known Marek was lying before Brennan confirmed it. That pause was for Marek to suspect she was doing something. Cute. Effective.

Blair turned back to Marek. "You want to try the truth this time or do you want another bucket?"