"Colin, I can help you, but only if you tell me what happened." He gestures to Benedict. "Leave us, please."
"No!" Colin blurts out, grabbing for Benedict's sleeve. He has one witness who will talk and doesn't trust that he will be believed on his own. Moreover, Lutair will probably be out for Benedict's blood now as well. Irving raises an eyebrow and gives a broad gesture toward two chairs on the other side of his desk.
"Sit," he directs them. Colin winces as he obeys. Irving's fingers knit together. "Tell me what Benedict saw, Colin."
Colin makes no eye contact. He knows he has to answer, for his sake and Benedict's, but that doesn't lessen the humiliation.
"Lutair...had his hand over my mouth. And his other hand was on my hip." He can feel it still like a brand, hotter than the rattan's welts.
Irving nods. "Has he done that before?" he asks gently.
"Not in the apprentice quarters. But I'd been sent there while everyone else was in class." Colin feels lightheaded. He's breathing too fast. "Usually he does worse. Or makes me do worse."
"Such as?"
"Usually I have to suck him. And...he says he'll kill me if I tell anyone. Or frame me for blood magic."
Irving's face barely twitches. It is the only indication of an emotional reaction. "How long has this been going on?"
"I don't know. Almost every day since spring sometime."
Irving takes a bell from his desk and rings it. The door opens; a Templar pokes his head through. "Send for the Knight-Commander straight away, please," he says pleasantly. "Tell him it's urgent."
The Templar nods and the door closes. Colin's breath quickens further. He can feel his fingers tingle.
"He's going to kill me," he says faintly. "He might kill Benedict."
no subject
"Colin, I can help you, but only if you tell me what happened." He gestures to Benedict. "Leave us, please."
"No!" Colin blurts out, grabbing for Benedict's sleeve. He has one witness who will talk and doesn't trust that he will be believed on his own. Moreover, Lutair will probably be out for Benedict's blood now as well. Irving raises an eyebrow and gives a broad gesture toward two chairs on the other side of his desk.
"Sit," he directs them. Colin winces as he obeys. Irving's fingers knit together. "Tell me what Benedict saw, Colin."
Colin makes no eye contact. He knows he has to answer, for his sake and Benedict's, but that doesn't lessen the humiliation.
"Lutair...had his hand over my mouth. And his other hand was on my hip." He can feel it still like a brand, hotter than the rattan's welts.
Irving nods. "Has he done that before?" he asks gently.
"Not in the apprentice quarters. But I'd been sent there while everyone else was in class." Colin feels lightheaded. He's breathing too fast. "Usually he does worse. Or makes me do worse."
"Such as?"
"Usually I have to suck him. And...he says he'll kill me if I tell anyone. Or frame me for blood magic."
Irving's face barely twitches. It is the only indication of an emotional reaction. "How long has this been going on?"
"I don't know. Almost every day since spring sometime."
Irving takes a bell from his desk and rings it. The door opens; a Templar pokes his head through. "Send for the Knight-Commander straight away, please," he says pleasantly. "Tell him it's urgent."
The Templar nods and the door closes. Colin's breath quickens further. He can feel his fingers tingle.
"He's going to kill me," he says faintly. "He might kill Benedict."
"He can try," Irving says gently. "But he won't."