New World Rising (23 page)

SOMETHING COLD STRUCK
me in the face. It rolled over my skin, down my chest and into my lap. It should have been refreshing, but the chill of the water felt almost violent against my scorched skin, a million minuscule pins and needles stabbing my nerve endings. My head whipped back involuntarily before rolling forward again.

A groan slipped from my lips. My temples were throbbing.

I blinked a few times, trying to focus. Neither my body or mind felt under my control.
Keep your head.
I reminded myself.
My name was Phoenix. I had made a sacrifice. The Sanctuary had captured me. I didn’t want to die.
As I stared at my soaked thighs, I tried to make an assessment of my fuzzy surroundings.

They had moved me.

The floor I could just see beyond my bare toes was grey now and I was sitting up—well, not so much “sitting up” as tied to a chair. While my instincts screamed at me to resist the restraints, I knew they were the only things holding me upright. As much as I wanted to be rid of them, I needed them for support. Without my bindings they would know how weak I was, but with them I stood a chance at feigning strength.

“Do it again.” A snide male voice spoke to my right. I heard the movement of feet and the sloshing of another bucket.

“I would
highly
advise against that.” I meant my voice to be strong and confident, but what came out was cracked and raspy.

The sloshing noise stopped.

“So nice of you to join us, Prea.” A different voice spoke this time. It was deeper, more refined than the first.

Using all of my strength, I pushed against the ropes on my chest and pulled my head up to face the man who said my name. It was like staring at him through a dark tunnel. I forced my eyes to focus.

He was old by Tartarus standards. His perfectly coiffed hair was streaked grey and white. The wrinkles embedded in his face had given way to gravity slightly, but there was something wrong about them. It was as if his face had been stretched back a little to keep the drooping lines tighter. There was something else in his features I couldn’t quite place. Something… familiar. He had a sharp nose like a beak and the most piercing blue eyes. Even in my semi-delirious haze, their gaze sent a chill down my spine.

Focus, Phoenix…

His pressed suit was perfectly white, with a high blunt collar that stopped just below his angular jaw. Two silver bars were mounted on each shoulder. There was something round, shiny and silver over his left breast that I could not quite make out. The tailored uniform gave him an authoritative look, but it was not a soldier’s uniform nor was it like the civilians’ garb I had seen—that I had stolen—before being captured. The attire had been well calculated. He appeared to be a commander yet still a man of the people—white like a citizen’s but cut like a soldier’s. In his left hand he held a brass cane, but wasn’t placing much weight on it. Possibly it was more for show than actual use. He may have looked older, but he carried himself with the authority and arrogance of a much younger man. Clearly, this was the man in charge. He was the one I had heard so much about and yet knew almost nothing.

This was The Minister of The Sanctuary.

This was Minister Fandrin.

As the tunnel of my vision widened, I took in more of my surroundings. We were not alone. Three other younger men stood in the room with us. While I was now aware of their presence, it was The Minister who still held my complete attention. He was the one who had spoken my name. My
real
name.

I narrowed my eyes at him.

“You must be confused old man. That’s not my name,” I lied.

His returning smile made my hollow stomach flip. “On the contrary my child, I am positive that your name
is
Prea. Prea Mason.”

My throat clenched. No one knew my surname, not even Triven. That name had died with my parents. I concentrated on keeping my face calm. Emotionless.

“And what the
hell
makes you think you know anything about me?” I said through my teeth. My head was getting heavy again, but I forced myself to hold his cold gaze.

His smile shifted, looking more like a snarl.

“Even beneath all of that grime and filth…” There was loathing in the old man’s eyes as they scoured over me. “Did you
really
think I wouldn’t recognize my own granddaughter?”