The white sheep of the family
Finally, the inevitable question from Abasi came. Loren hesitated, staring into the depths of his tea, as if they'd reveal some way for him to speak the words without pain. Eventually, he screwed his eyes shut. "Yes." It was a small and shameful whisper, and he found that he was trembling.
So he forced himself to still, and to open his eyes. They gazed sightlessly ahead of him, boring into a point in the floor. When he spoke next, while still pained, it came out in more of a dull tone. "You see, it didn't matter if I was obedient or not. Because I was weak." He took a shuddering breath. "And because of the need to enforce the oath, and served the crown, weak magicians weren't tolerated any more than disobedient ones were. The strongest and most destructive mages were in charge."
Suddenly, his fingers were white-knuckled against the mug, which shook slightly in his hands. "And because I was weak, they tortured me. Over, and over, and over again, for years and years."
So he forced himself to still, and to open his eyes. They gazed sightlessly ahead of him, boring into a point in the floor. When he spoke next, while still pained, it came out in more of a dull tone. "You see, it didn't matter if I was obedient or not. Because I was weak." He took a shuddering breath. "And because of the need to enforce the oath, and served the crown, weak magicians weren't tolerated any more than disobedient ones were. The strongest and most destructive mages were in charge."
Suddenly, his fingers were white-knuckled against the mug, which shook slightly in his hands. "And because I was weak, they tortured me. Over, and over, and over again, for years and years."
Will blood tell
