“Can I go back to our rooms?” I ask.
Rhydian nods, “If you go now”
I jump to my feet and Rhydian quickly shoves the beanbag into a closet I didn’t even realise was there. It looks exactly like all the walls around it. Rhydian’s movements are jerky and agitated, so I hurry away. Time is clearly of the essence, and I really don’t want to run into this new fey prince.
The hallway looks bright today, and not unnaturally long. The only strangeness is a few brown speckled snakes sliding along the walls and a toad croaking from somewhere that I cannot see.
I pick up my pace. I’m pretty sure I know the way. And if not, getting a little lost shouldn’t be the end of the world. But my heart does not agree with me. It is racing. And my arms are clutching my new tablet to my chest as if it is a shield that can save me.
I turn a corner and my blood turns to ice. Iestyn is gliding down the hallway. Probably on his way to intrude on Rhydian’s meeting. I shudder and step up as close to the wall as I can get. If anyone needs to be given a wide berth, it’s this creep.
Another shudder wracks me as we pass one another.
“Little Pet,” he says softly, and suddenly I can’t move.
Helplessly my body turns to face him. Is it magic forcing me to, or my own instincts refusing to have a predator at my back? I have no idea.
I stare in trepidation at his slender back, and then he turns gracefully to face me. His green eyes are dull and cold. Like unpolished jade.
“You didn’t curtsy,”
Oh shit. I am terrible at remembering to do that. No one has ever called me out on it before but I am not at all surprised that Iestyn is the one to do so.
“Sorry,” I say, as I sink into my pathetic excuse of a curtsy.
Dyfri’s instructions from forever ago ring in my ears. Iestyn is a court advisor. A vizier. That’s probably as high ranking as it gets. So I better do the very lowest curtsy I can manage. I hate this motherfucking bastard with all the cold fury in my heart. But pointless and stupid acts of defiance are not going to do a thing.
“Too late for that,” he hisses.
Asshole. Somehow I manage to keep my gaze firmly on the floor and not glare at him.
“You need to be punished for your insolence.”
Like hell I do. It was a simple mistake. I forgot and as soon as he said anything, I apologised and made amends.
His bony fingers wrap around my arm and he shoves me through a door that’s just to the side of us. I sneeze as the dust from the dimly lit, unused room attacks me. Shapeless furniture is draped in white dust sheets. It is really not the type of place I want to be alone with Iestyn in. Not that I want to be alone with him anywhere. Well, unless he was tied up and I had an enormous knife.
“Turn around and place your palms against the wall,” he snaps.
I stare at him as my limbs begin to shake. He pulls something out of his belt. It looks like a riding crop.
“Every second you delay, is another lash.”
My body turns around. My hands rise up and brace against the wall. I think my body has the right idea. Complying is probably the best course of action. Iestyn will hit me a few times and then let me go. I’m getting off lightly, really. There are a thousand worse things he could do to me.
A bright burst of pain burns through me, and I yelp. I want to move, to run and flee, but I grit my teeth and stay still. Running would be the very worst thing I could do.
The riding crop snaps down across my back. Again and again. The silk of my robes tears. Warm wetness drips down my back. Crack! It hits me again and I yowl. I’m not good with pain. Never have been. But at this moment, I really truly wish that I wasn’t a wimp. I want to bear this silently, stoically and bravely. I don’t want Iestyn to know how much he is scaring me. He doesn’t deserve to have any power over me.
Another crack of the whip and this one feels as if it strikes me in the exact same place as before.
“Stop! Please! I’m sorry!” I wail.
Iestyn’s hot breath brushes down my neck. He is pressed in close against me and now I want him to go back to beating me.
“You beg so prettily, Little Pet,” he whispers sibilantly.
I shudder and sob. My face is wet with tears that I do not remember shedding.
