I'd rather die

“Mm hm,” Lark nodded his head once at the boy, not a single strand of hair dared to fall into his beautiful face. “Sink rat.” he said, with a thoughtful air, and then, with a mouth full of venom, “I thought you were moles,” shedding the skin of kindness. Lark stood and wiped the fingers of his glove clean. He knew what he would do with this boy.

The door of the chamber received a knock - for they knew inside was their master, and they dare not interrupt him - and Lark turned, giving permission for the guard to enter. Except, it wasn’t one of the palace guards, it was one who worked for the city, and he appeared upset.

“Your highness,” he went down on one knee, and did not arise.
“You may speak,” said Lark, only slightly concerned.
“The eastern side of the city has been destroyed.”
Not sure if this guard was sane, Lark leaned down in front of the kneeling guard, and said, “Come again?” His eyebrows scrunched together, forming the perfect number eleven in the middle of his forehead.
“It was destroyed. There’s nothing left, no survivors, except one and we-”
“Impossible!” Though it was, and Lark could have gone without noticing so, because the city was so huge, it was even five cities combined. And some of it had been destroyed. Shouldn’t he have been able to hear it? The veins in his pale face swelled and pulsed, hands shaking gently inside their gloves. Was there to be war? Who would do such a thing to his city?

“No, sire. There is one survivor and we believe this one may be the cause.” The guard shakily stood from his knee, the bad news already having been delivered.
“You mean, we were not attacked? This is the doing of one individual?” Lark was now shocked and rubbed gently at his chin, but on his face he wore a mask of calmness, his demeanor unchanging.
“Yes.”
“Then bring the freak of nature to me, and leave me to my business.” he spoke, waving the man off to fetch the murderer.
“As you wish, sire,” and the man was gone, the door clanging closed behind him.

Lark turned back to the boy, who had been listening and watching. The Shrike noticed, on his face, that he was concerned now, and not only frightened and worried for himself, but others. Others he knew, the rest of the Sink? How some of them must have been destroyed, the ones that disguised themselves and went into the city to steal and mingle.

Lark took a deep breath, and clasped his hands behind his back, no longer looking at the boy but merely thinking. His mind was numb, as were his thoughts - how insane this was, part of his city destroyed? Any normal governor would have wept for those lost, but this one did not. He felt nothing for those who had died, nor for those who had lost. Instead, he was offended that someone would dare stain his city with blood, his near perfect and orderly city.

Slowly his thoughts made their way back to the boy in front of him, and his eyes went again to the boy’s face, who immediately looked away.

“I was very disappointed that you were the only one to be caught.” Tic grimaced.

“You’re just a boy-” Lark let his eyes roam around the damp prison, and suddenly the smell of death and the previous occupants filled his nostrils. “And perhaps your interrogation will not be too long,” he squatted down in front of the boy, gently taking his face in his hands, fingers turned inwards on his cheeks. Turning his face to his own, Lark stared into the boy’s eyes, but he did not stare back, and why?

“Look at me,” he whispered.

Warmth came to Lark’s fingers, piercing the fabric of his gloves. Slowly he realized tears were steaming from Tic’s face, and his own smiled gently. “Look at me,” he said again, coaxing the boy gently, “look at me and I will not harm you.”