“Huh? How did you repay me?” He stomped down on my hand and ground his heel into its center.
Bones cracked.
I screamed.
The Emperor kneeled before me, taking my chin in his hand, squeezing so hard I thought my jaw would snap. “You squandered the opportunity I offered you. Freed dangerous vorakh, freed murderers,” he pointed at Galen, “and then as if that weren’t enough, you absconded with the vilest forsworn scum of the Empire.” He shook his head. “Where,” he threw my head back, “were your loyalties?”
“I’m sorry,” I cried, scrambling to sit, cradling my broken hand to my chest. “I’m sorry.”
“Shut up,” he snapped.
This time the Emperor stalked toward Galen.
“No,” I said. “No, don’t!”
“I said, shut up!” He smiled then, the most evil, wolfish looking grin I’d ever seen as he looked between me and Galen.
Something inside me went cold—a terror I hadn’t known since I was three. Since I was trapped in the cupboard, helpless as my mother fought against the vorakh that would kill her.
“You hear?” he asked. “You hear how your friend knows his place? How he knows now to be silent. Because he knew that the moment he put his blade inside my uncle’s belly, inside your Emperor’s stomach, that he no longer had a say in his life.” He pulled out his dagger.
I opened my mouth to scream, but the Emperor’s eyes widened in warning.
I closed my mouth, and he nodded. Then he turned his blade, striking Galen in the stomach with the hilt.
Galen paled, his mouth forming a soundless O, as his body convulsed.
“Now, here’s how this is going to work. I’m more than aware of your treachery, your treason. But luckily for you, I still need you. Your face. Your position. You have a job to do.” He walked back toward me, keys jangling in his hand. “I need you to prove yourself to me. See—I trusted you before. And I was wrong. I need you to show me I won’t be wrong a second time.”
He reached behind me, one ankle freed. A moment later the next. And somehow that was worse. An acknowledgment that I wouldn’t be free. That I couldn’t run, because I was too weak, too injured. That no one was coming. No one would save us this time.
“Well? Ready to prove yourself?” the Emperor asked.
I shook my head. “Why would I prove anything to you?”
The Emperor frowned, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he shared a look with his brother. “I can think of several reasons. Keeping your tongue. Keeping your cock.”
I shuddered. Then he shrugged. “How about keeping your friend alive?”
Galen shook his head, his eyes wide. I knew that look. He didn’t want me to agree. No more bargains. No more deals with a demon. But it was his life. And if there was the smallest chance that I could do it, could buy him time, I would.
I lifted my eyebrows, trying to explain. To tell him I had to. That he was worth it. That I’d take the risk, accept the pain, if I could save him. All this time, all I wanted was to save him.
Galen frowned seeing the decision in my eyes, and shook his head one more time. Just once more. I met the Emperor’s cold eyes. “What do I do?”
“Take off your shirt,” the Emperor purred.
“What?” I asked, a knot in my belly.
“I said,” his aura flared, nearly blasting me back against the wall, “take off your shirt.”
It was like ice had been injected into my veins. Every part of me was going cold—every limb shaking with fear. I tried not to think about it. What it meant, what was going to happen. Only the logistics. Because I could barely do it with a broken hand. Even with my good hand I was too injured, too sore all the way down my arm. I tried to grab my shirt and lift. I didn’t even make it to my chest before agony shot through my muscles and my hand fell down. I gritted my teeth, a moan of pain escaping my lips as I did it again. Fuck. I started to cry, unable to stop myself. My right hand was destroyed. And my arms barely had the strength.
A sob wracked my body as I gripped my shirt again with my left hand, and lifted, pushing past the pain, lights exploding in my eyes as I lifted my arm over my head.
Sweat broke out around my neck as I tugged and twisted, trying to push my head out of the material. It took me a full minute. But it was off. I dropped it on the floor and swayed for a moment, fearful I’d faint again. The thing was covered in blood, dirt, sweat, and vomit.
“Good boy,” he said. “Now,” he stepped back, and pointed at the floor. “Crawl.”
