Blood of Innocents (Book Two of the Sorcery Ascendant Sequence) by Mitchell Hogan Page A

rate.”
    Felice nodded bleakly. “I know. I don’t like torture, but… if you can get your hands on a few of the invaders, do what you have to. We need to know more about what we are dealing with. Knowing some facts, no matter how trivial, will be better than complete ignorance.” She stood, leaving the hammock swaying. “Let’s get moving, then.”
    •
    Felice sat on the sheets covering the bed, back against the headboard, and closed her eyes. The room screamed opulence and bad taste, as she imagined all of the high-end brothels in the city must have done.
    Murals and erotic scenes adorned the walls. The furniture was of good quality, though the prevailing deep red color scheme of the material was giving her a headache. It reminded her of blood and the recent questioning of two of the Indryallans they had captured. Not pleasant memories, and she hoped they would fade in time. She hadn’t learned much from the Indryallans, which was a pity. They were under the delusion they were here to liberate the citizens of the empire, but neither of them knew anything about sorcery. Perhaps she needed to capture one of their sorcerers.
    She breathed deeply, trying to relax. Avigdor should be back soon with Izak. He had chosen the place for its discretion, where a clandestine meeting between a woman and two men would be unremarked upon, and she had to admit he had made a good choice. Although, she hoped no one recognized her and her reputation remained intact. She’d need it after all this was over.
    There was a knock at the door, and she drew herself up to sit cross-legged, still leaning against the headboard. A key rattled in the lock, and the door opened to reveal Avigdor followed by Izak.
    Izak was dressed impeccably, as usual: expensive clothes with small silver buttons up the front of his shirt, his graying goatee recently trimmed. In contrast her own appearance was scruffy and unkempt. She ran a hand over her hair and patted down some loose strands.
    Avigdor and Izak were chatting amiably, while Avigdor closed and locked the door behind them. With a gesture to Izak, Avigdor ushered him over to a padded chair. Izak turned and stopped in shock when he saw Felice.
    “My lady,” exclaimed Izak as he bowed from the waist. He strode forward, and before she could react took her hand in his and touched his lips to the back of it. “As lovely as ever.”
    She inclined her head at him. “Please, sit.”
    Izak did so, boots scuffing the rugs on the floor. Earlier, she had arranged the chairs to face the bed, and Izak avoided her gaze and shifted uncomfortably. The decor of the room, and meeting in a brothel, unnerved him, which was another reason Avigdor had chosen it as a meeting place.
    “Forgive the surroundings,” Felice said. “But we thought it best to keep this meeting discreet, and the out of the way location made this place ideal, though hard to find.”
    “Oh, I know it well. No bother.” Izak hesitated, then his face went pale as he realized what he’d said.
    Avigdor covered his mouth with a hand, hiding a smile.
    “What I mean…” began Izak, pausing to clear his throat. “My lady, if I may—”
    “You may not,” Felice interrupted.
    Izak stopped, stunned at being cut off so abruptly.
    She closed her eyes and sighed deeply. She hadn’t meant to start this way, but she was so very tired. Maybe this could work to her advantage. “Forgive my outburst. I’m sure we’re all under some stress due to recent events. I called this meeting to discuss what we are going to do about the invasion.”
    “Do?” asked Izak. He looked at Avigdor, who shrugged.
    “Yes, do. In case you hadn’t noticed, we are at war, and we need to do something about it. We know you have connections and we need to make use of them. So, as of now, I officially draft you into the resistance.”
    Izak spluttered and rose to his feet. He glanced at Avigdor, who spread his hands in apology.
    “Sorry,” Avigdor said, without much