Jack didn’t have time to register Cain’s death; he’d do it later, if he had a later. He could see the young noble still wanted him dead, despite his uncle’s warning.

  While Fenton was distracted, Jack activated his last [Fireball] spell scroll and willed it through his stump. His severed wrist stung as magic passed through it. The [Fireball] hit Fenton under the chin. The top of his jacket burned, and his wild, blond hair vanished in the inferno. The young noble screamed as his face melted like cheap candle wax.

  Greaves ran, his eyes wide, but it was too late.

  Jack grabbed a sword from the ground, sprang up, and rammed it into Fenton’s throat. His right palm itched, while dripping fat and hot blood spurted across his face as the young noble spasmed. He twisted the blade and fell backwards as another skill filled his soul.

  Then Greaves was there. “What have you done!” He grabbed Jack by the throat, lifted him like a rag doll with his left hand. He tore the bloody sword from Jack’s hand and sliced the tendons below Jack’s right elbow with skill.

  Jack screamed, his mind flashing back to the alleyway. His right arm hung limp and useless, like the rest of him. Why have the Gods forsaken me?

  Greaves slammed him against the cliff face, pinning him to the rock wall with a malicious grin. His top hat perched over his wispy blond hair.

  Jack felt a sense of panic for what he knew was to come. Torture, pain, humiliation, and eventual death.

  Greaves discarded the sword and retrieved a dagger from his jacket. He held the blade near Jack’s left eye.

  Not again! No. Not again! Jack felt fear overwhelm him as the future repeated itself. No, not again! In a fog of panic, it was all his mind could manage. “No!”

  Greaves pressed him into the stone. “You were supposed to be a new chapter in my book, Jack.” He didn’t sound angry. The Baron sounded like a father disappointed in his son.

  Jack opened his mouth, but no words sprang forth, only terror and fear for what was to come. Please… not again…

  Greaves narrowed his pale blue eyes. His voice was calm, controlled, and… patient. “Who are you?”

  Jack was pinned against the rock face by Baron Greaves while the surviving guards stood watch over him or picked through the corpses for valuables. No one dared touch the bodies of the two dead nobles, Baron Argil and Fenton.

  Nearby, a small pile of weapons and armour grew. One archer tested the pull of Jack’s white oak bow. A pantherkin examined Cain’s sword with a practised swing. In the background, the deerhounds barked and howled, their handlers struggling to restrain them.

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  I’m fucked, Jack thought. He’s going to torture me again.

  “Who are you?” Greaves asked for the second time. He loosened his grip around Jack’s throat but still held him pinned high against the rock wall.

  Jack coughed and gasped for air. His death was inevitable, and he knew it. He thought of his promise to spend more time with his family. Ten days had passed since his rebirth, and most of it had been wasted on fighting for his survival. I’m sorry, Mom.

  Jack forced himself to meet Greaves’ eyes. “A-a simple scribe… my lord,” he croaked, letting the words drip with sarcasm.

  Baron Greaves scoffed. “You helped kill a dozen promising blood mages and used the skills harvest ritual to heal that warrior… You’ll be telling me how you managed that, my boy.” He shook his head, his eyes hard with disbelief. “And then you did all this…” He twisted Jack’s head so he could survey the carnage spread across the rocky path. “You want me to believe you’re a simple, sixteen-year-old Novice Scribe who became a blood mage less than a day ago? Are you even, Jack, the son of William the Expert Scribe who works under me?”

  Jack sensed an opportunity. He doubts who I am. Not to save himself, but to save his family. He forced a grin, feeling an instinct in his gut telling him what Greaves wanted to hear. “Yes, my lord. What’s the alternative? That I’m an Apprentice Assassin who’s been a blood mage for a decade?” He chuckled, like he was sharing banter with an old friend.

  What he was saying felt wrong, fake, and hollow. But he somehow knew that was the right course of action. To his disbelief, Greaves chuckled, and his grip relaxed. He lowered Jack back to the ground.

  “Thank you, my lord.” Jack drew in a ragged breath, not even understanding how he knew what to say next.

  Greaves nodded and smiled. The guards relaxed and chatted.

  What sort of madness is this? He tried to focus Heal on his severed tendons. It was harder to will a skill this way, but he knew it was possible. It failed to activate. Sweat ran down his temple. He didn’t have a plan, but knew he’d need one working hand if there was even the slightest chance of escape… or better yet, a chance to kill Greaves.

  “Which circle are you from?” Greaves asked. “We have a non-aggression pact with the others. Why have you broken it?”

  Jack was confused, but schooled his expression. What? More blood mage circles? Non-aggression pacts? How many are there? He tried to heal his tendons again. It failed. He forced himself to breathe.

  “Tell me which group you are aligned with, and we’ll contact your elders to make a deal.” Greaves’ voice turned smooth. “You can still get out of this alive, my boy. Of course, I’ll need to know how you healed the warrior.”

  Elders? He thinks I’m from another group of blood mages. And he wants the ability to heal people.

  Only Master Healers could regenerate lost limbs for ridiculous amounts of wealth. Even nobles like Greaves would wince at the cost. Although it was an accident, the knowledge of how Cain regenerated his lost arm at the cost of a few young blood mages was worth a king’s ransom. It might be possible to replace the three ‘sacrificed’ blood mages with anyone.

  Jack licked his cracked lips, lifted his stump, and forced a smile. “Maybe I’ll teach you the ritual modifications when I regenerate my hand, my lord,” he said, waving the mangled limb like it was nothing but a minor inconvenience. He felt the lie was what Greaves wanted to hear.

  Greaves’ expression changed to greedy and almost delighted.