-Ashes-
“Let’s try this again,” I said.
Tylon stood nearby, holding an iron rod with its end glowing red-hot. The slave dealer before me was someone we had tracked down to a small, dingy tavern. He mostly supplied slaves to the wealthy, but this time, he had crossed the wrong people.
Tylon had already had his fun—there was no doubt about that. The man was bleeding from multiple wounds, his skin still sizzling from burns, and only one of his eyes was open, the other swollen shut.
“Who did you sell to?” I demanded.
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about, my Prince,” he stammered, his voice trembling and broken. “I sell slaves, not assassins.”
“This assassin was a slave. He would have carried the mark. I know you saw it.”
“I saw nothing! I didn’t sell any assassin.”
I glanced at T
