Well of Tears (Empath Book 3) (28 page)

“Stop this Sammah! You’
ve
lost!
”

Sammah roared with laughter. “Lost? The king
is about to die and you two have come back to me, yet again. When
are you going to learn, that as long as you are in the same room
together, you can never win against me? All I have to do is play
you against each other, Quinn. You are useless. You cannot resist
her, and she cannot stop herself. She’s just like you were, before
you could hold in your empathic abilities. Everything I tell you is
the truth. Your submission is inevitable.”

Shiver’s eyes rolled around in his head. The
words weren’t aimed at him—shouldn’t be affecting him as badly.
They were affecting Quinn, though. The pressure returned to her
ears. She closed her eyes tightly. “Stop it. It’s not true. We can
beat you. We can work with each other, Sammah. We know what you
are.
She
knows what you are.”

Sammah affected a hurt voice. “Neyv, have you
been listening to lies? What have I told you, about other people?
They never tell you the truth, dear heart. Come on. I’ve nearly
won, now. Come to me.”

Neyv glanced at Quinn, and trotted to Sammah,
who dropped to a squat and held out his hands.

“Don’t Neyv. Don’t you trust him!”

Neyv glanced at Quinn, then back to Sammah.
“What are we going to do now?”

“
Well, we don
’t
need Quinn to convince the king of any truths now. What do you
think we should do?”

“If you don’
t need
Quinn,
” Neyv stopped walking, hesitating. “Then why do you
need me?”

Sammah grinned, and Quinn could see how
forced it was. Sammah never grinned to look amenable. “I’ll always
need you, Neyv.”

“We talked about this Neyv. You can’t trust
him.”

“But I can trust you?”

Quinn nodded. “Yes. Come on, get behind
me.”

Neyv took a few backwards steps. Sammah,
faster than Quinn could ever credit him for, thrust a hand to his
waist and pulled out a nasty curved blade. He closed the distance
between him and Neyv with a few steps, slashing wildly at the
little girl. Neyv darted back more through instinct than skill,
barely avoiding the swing. Elias saw the action of his master and
joined with his own sword.

Quinn screamed in protest and pushed at
Elias. Here was a man she felt passionately about. At every turn,
in every negative part of her life, Elias had been there. Elias,
Sammah’s right-hand-man. Elias, the silent killer. Elias, a man
that had murdered children and relished his role as
Quinn’
s tormentor.

Elias. A man
who
Quinn wanted to die.

The mercenary had barely lifted his sword
before Quinn’s mental weapon hit him. Elias dropped his sword in
shock. His eyes opened wide. Quinn piled her malice into him. Every
single time the man had hit her, dragged her, made her cry, and
done Sammah’s bidding. Everything he’d done wordlessly in the name
of his cruel master was concentrated into Quinn’
s mental dagger.

Quinn had believed that, if she’d stayed
awake for longer, either time, she would have killed Rowan. The
first time she’d attacked Rowan, she’d overwhelmed herself. The
second time, Eden had knocked her unconscious. This time, Sammah
was distracted by Neyv; Shiver was slumped on the floor useless.
There was no one standing between Quinn and Elias, no one this time
who could prevent her from crushing him with her ability.

His mind was pliant, just like the mercenary
on the ship. Impressionable, open to whatever she was giving him,
perhaps that was what made them such obedient workers. It was all
the same to Quinn. Elias’s mind was an open book, and Quinn was
filling those pages with blackened hatred. His mouth worked open
and closed rapidly as panic set in. Blood ran from the side of the
mouth. He clutched at his throat and pawed at his eyes. It was all
happening so quickly; he had no idea what was killing him. There
was nothing physical for Elias to fight. He couldn’t see to walk.
Elias collapsed to his knees and tried to crawl towards Quinn. She
stepped to one side, so he simply didn’t know where she’d be. She
didn’t relent. She wanted to crush him. She imagined opening up his
skull, using her hands to squash the soft grey matter underneath.
At this, Elias crumpled. His body began to spasm. Quinn dropped her
attention. Elias was gone.

“Quinn!”

Neyv was across the other side of the room
now, Sammah chasing her with his knife still drawn.

“Run all you want. You’re both going to die.
Neither of you can affect me. You know it, so just give up
now.”

Quinn had the momentum now. She’d tried to
attack Sammah before and failed. That had been days ago, though for
the way she felt now, it might as well have been a lifetime. Neyv
had tried to kill her and failed. Quinn could have responded in
kind, and Sammah might have even wanted that. Quinn had risen above
his desires, though, and had instead won Neyv’s trust and
allegiance.

She wouldn’t let Sammah kill the girl now. If
Quinn had summoned enough spite to kill Elias within seconds, it
was well within her capability to find the power to bring down this
despicable man.

Her earliest memory of Sammah wasn’t in
Yender. Quinn could barely remember the town of her apparent birth.
What she first remembered about this man, was him striking her.
Their first memorable interaction had been Sammah enforcing his
authority on her, and from that point onwards, that’s what her life
had been like.

“Sammah, leave her alone!”

Sammah turned to her sneering. “You’ll get
your turn,
girl
.”

The way he said it, the leering dismissive
tone, reminded her at once of Tarik and Pax rolled into one
spiteful creature. Tarik was one of the men that she had met
representing the good, thoughtful side of Sha’sek. Pax was none of
those things, ranking highly amongst the men that Quinn never
wanted to see again. Shiver groaned in the corner. He was crawling
over towards Elias. Quinn spotted the blade at the man’s side.
Shiver was going for that. To help them? Regardless, the king was
too weak to contribute. He might have been the one that wanted to
kill Sammah—to wield the final blow and claim the victory for his
people. Quinn wouldn’t let him do that. His people had to know that
Sha’sek could deal with their own—that they weren’t a threat to
everyone. That they could be reasonable people. That empaths were
not a source of conflict.

“I told you to
leave her
!”

Sammah snarled at her. Quinn was yanking his
attention away from Neyv. Good. Quinn was more of a threat to
him—had more of a chance at defending herself. Sammah still had the
blade in his hand, though. Quinn had forgotten he was armed. She
should have picked up Elias’ sword. Sammah lunged for her. Quinn
danced back, nimble on her feet and far faster than the obese
baron. The sword wasn’t far away. She’d have to fight Shiver for
it, if she didn’t hurry up. Quinn dove, her hand wrapping around
the hilt just as Shiver got there. He moaned in frustration, though
he was still far too weak to do anything about. Quinn snatched the
blade away, whirling it around blindly in the air. By sheer luck it
caught Sammah’s knife. The sword, massively oversized, spun out of
the baron’s hands. He gasped, not expecting the blow, and backed
away from Quinn waving both of his hands. Quinn got to her knees,
then to her feet, stalking Sammah down like a hunter with its prey
already cornered.

And he was. She had Sammah right where she
wanted him.

“You don’t want to do this, Quinn.”

“Why not?”

Sammah glanced at Neyv, who still clutched
the edge of the far side of the table. “I’m your father. I’m the
only one that understood you. I’m the only one that can help you,
Quinn. I know who your father is—what you can be. If you kill me,
you’ll lose everything.”

After her victory against Elias, Quinn had
felt like the last piece of her ability had unlocked. The last
shackle around her had slid to the floor. She was herself now, in
her totality. Sammah’s attempt to warp her now was pitiful. It had
almost no effect. Quinn laughed. Even to her own ears the noise
sounded hollow.

“You never knew me. You never
cared
.”

“I didn’t need to care to know, Quinn. I
studied. We all studied you. Only I can help you grow.”

Quinn looked him up and down. Without his
bodyguards, without someone else’s abilities to lean behind, the
man was pathetic. He was overweight, greasy, with bloodshot eyes
and disgustingly smooth skin. He was a manipulator, despised even
by his own people. The world would be a better place, without
Sammah in it. “I’ll take my chances on my own.”

Quinn drove the sword forward in a two-handed
thrust. Sammah did not wear armour. There was a minute moment of
resistance as the point pierced his skin, until the pressure told,
and the metal slid in through his gut. Sammah’s mouth gaped open. A
sliver of blood oozed from his mouth.

Quinn had expected to defeat her father with
her mind. It was more satisfying to see it—to feel it. To know,
physically, what it felt like to finally rid herself of this man.
She did it on her own terms—not the way Sammah would have wanted
her to kill him.

“Quinn…” Sammah’s eyes slid to the left. His
pupils dilated. “Neyv.”

He dropped forward, the sword still in his
chest making him flop to one side.

It was over—done. Sammah was dead.

Quinn looked over to Neyv, a grin of triumph
spreading over her face. The grin was wiped off quickly. Neyv
looked across at Quinn in shock. Shiver was kneeling before the
girl. Sammah’s curved blade stood out of her neck.

Eden opened his
eyes, fully this time. The last time he’d been awake, Quinn had
been here. She’d said something to him…what had it been? Sammah?
They were going after Sammah? Eden stumbled to his feet. He felt
groggy, but fine. What had happened to him?
That girl
. The
gifted that had been behind Sammah’s control of the throne. He had
been trying to make Eden kill Quinn. He had resisted, though. He
had managed to win out. Eden was relieved. His love for Quinn had
cushioned him, he was sure of it. If he’d loved Quinn any
less—hated any part of her, her was sure that’
d
he
’
d have given in.

What if he’d woken up with Quinn’s bloody
body at his feet?

Eden shuddered, trying to get that image out
of his mind. That hadn’
t happened
—time to
move on. He had to get to them. Where would they have gone? Where
would Sammah have fled?

He couldn’t escape. Harn and the rest of
their men would be guarding the only other route out of Everfell.
That meant he had to climb.

Eden tested his feet. His legs seemed strong.
His mind was already clearing. He wasn’t physically wounded. He
jumped up and down a few times. He could run. Eden sensed that he
needed to run. Fast.

He got lost in a couple of the corridors, but
it didn’t take him long to track back. The abandoned corridors were
easy to negotiate, unlike the first time he’d had to throw himself
around this place. Sammah’s suites were open, which was the first
gut punch. The second, was the bloody scene he saw when he finally
got into the room proper.

Elias was on the floor, face-down. He was
dead. Eden didn’t even need to check. No one lay like that who was
alive. Sammah was dead. A blade stuck clear out from his gut. Blood
was soaking into the carpets. The strike hadn’t been long before,
biting deep. No one could survive a wound like that.

So it was over, Sammah was dead.

That left his father, and Quinn. And a little
girl. Quinn was screaming. No, she was wailing. Screams were a
noise of anger. What came from Quinn now was pure grief. She was
cradling a little girl’s body and covered in blood. His father, for
his part, was sitting on his backside in the middle of the room.
His body, too, was bloody. His eyes were wide.

“What happened?”

Shiver was muttering. Eden got closer to him.
He couldn’t hear the words initially over Quinn’s noise. Eden got
closer. Shiver didn’t even react to his son. Eden’s ear was almost
at his father’s mouth before he could hear it.

“What have I done? What have I done?”

His father was repeating the mantra over and
over.
What had he done?
He looked wounded. Eden patted
around, parting his clothes. There was a slash around his midriff.
It was not a fatal strike—it wasn’t even dangerous, and would be
fine once Eden got him to a healer and cleaned the wound. Eden went
to Quinn, then. If his father was safe, it was clear that Quinn
needed him more now.

Quinn had lowered the girl’s body to the
ground. She was still alive, somehow, but a Sha’sekian knife stuck
clear out of her neck. If he took the blade out, she would die
almost instantly. Eden felt like pulling it would be a kindness—the
little girl must be in agony.

“Quinn.” Eden put a hand on her shoulder.
Quinn lashed out at him.

“Your father did this!”

Eden rocked on the balls of his feet. He
wasn’t surprised. Shiver hated the gifted. This girl was one of
them. Eden looked down at her. It didn’t matter what she had
been—this was still a child. She was like Quinn—one of Sammah’s.
How much of this was her fault? Eden doubted that she’d deserved to
die. He couldn’t help his tears, dashing them away with his
fingers.

“She’s going to die, Quinn. You have to let
her go.”

“I can’t! We have to help her!”

“She’s beyond anyone’s help Quinn. Not even
Maertn could save her.”

“Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare use any of
their names!” Quinn beat her fists against his chest. Eden let her.
He preferred her to get her anger out that way—he had seen Quinn
unleash her fury in much more fatal ways. She had to concentrate on
him. If his father
had
done this, then if Quinn remembered
his father was in the room, Shiver was a dead man.