Her face is hard, and I grant her wish with a nod, pulling the other guests into the shadows to send them back. I’m gone for maybe ten minutes altogether as I settle a minor dispute between rebels. When I come back, my throne room is empty.
My heart hammers with instant terror, and I send my shadows away in every direction, searching for Jaga. I don’t have to look far. My magic locates her in my bedroom, and that’s where I go, another sort of fear clawing at my heart.
If she fucksNienadof all people, I fucking swear…
“What do you think about this new strain of the rot? How does it feel? Tell me.”
I stare, speechless and uncomprehending. In front of me, Jaga walks leisurely from one side of the spacious room to the next. The furniture has been pushed against the walls, clearing the space in the middle.
There, suspended on an enormous wheel made of pure magic, hangs Nienad. He is stretched open, his arms and legsakimbo, and the wheel turns slowly until he’s upside down, his naked body convulsing from pain. Jaga watches him with cold curiosity, twirling one of her small knives between her fingers.
I don’t speak and don’t move to stop it, even though Nienad’s bloodshot eyes are trained on my face, pleading and desperate. His mouth is sewn shut with black thread that crisscrosses neatly over his lips. He makes an urgent sound, and Jaga tilts her head.
“You’ll have to speak more clearly,” she says, sounding almost bored. “After all, this experiment will be useless if we can’t analyze the results.”
I exhale in comprehension. She was angry about the rot, as she clearly told me. Now she’s taking it out on him.
“He was only doing my bidding,” I say softly after a moment of hesitation, because am Ireallywilling to do this? “I’m the one you want to torment. It was my idea.”
She glances at me and doesn’t reply, spinning the wheel with a swirl of her finger. He is upright again, breathing hard through wide nostrils. Yellow pus drips from his eyes, and the room fills with the sweet scent of decomposition.
“He wants to take your place. Such a merciful master,” she whispers into his ear, while the tip of the knife caresses his cheek, tracing the scar that runs from his eye down to his mouth. “But to follow orders is a choice, one you willingly made. Now, how about this?”
She presses her hand to Nienad’s stomach, and he howls into the gag of his sewn up lips as his insides bulge and twist, something roiling inside. I take a closer look with my magic. Jaga has infected him with the rot, yes, and accelerated its progression. His intestines practically burst with pus. He’ll either shit himself or rupture, and if he vomits, he’ll suffocate.
She stands back and flicks her wrist, the wheel spinning faster and faster. He makes pitiful, harsh sounds of misery.
“I’d like you to remember later how I let you torture and kill my best healer,” I say softly, standing behind her. “He’s very useful to me, and I’m letting you have him.”
“You didn’t let me do anything. I took him. Try to take him back if you care,” she snaps, pointing at the wheel.
It speeds up until Nienad becomes a blur of skin and pain. I flick up a shield when foul, thick liquid mixed with blood splatters out of his stomach. Jaga cackles and brings the spinning to a halt, walking around my shield, seemingly unbothered by the smell.
“Now, I haven’t had much practice fixing ruptured intestines,” she says with a mean little laugh. “But I have to learn, don’t I? Don’t worry, I took your lessons to heart. I won’t bother with soothing your pain. We must be efficient, don’t we?”
The next ten minutes pass in a haze of Nienad’s agony. Jaga is meticulous, cleaning his wounds with magic, repairing his insides with muttered spells. Whenever he passes out from pain, she wakes him until he makes a constant, high-pitched sound in the back of his throat, his robust, strong body reduced to fearful trembling.
I palm my hard cock, my gaze sliding down Jaga’s ass. She doesn’t have on her coat, and her healthy curves are on display under the tight leather of her pants. I can’t help it. I adore her in every shape and size, Jaga innocent, defiant, cruel, loving, sweet, amused, and unhinged.
She’s a competent, focused Jaga now, the healer who takes pride in her craft. I come closer, my hooves squelching in the mess on the floor, and study her work.
“Would you like to make absolutely sure you haven’t missed any of his internal wounds?” I ask. She shrugs, and I smile. “Open his stomach and take out the intestines. I know you see much with magic, but nothing replaces direct touch, don’t you agree?”
She snorts, shooting me a half-appreciative, half-suspicious look over her shoulder.
“I thought he was useful to you.”
“I have other healers, and the rot program isn’t working, anyway. If you figure out a cure, I’ll distribute it.”
A thin, red line appears on Nienad’s stomach. His guts spill out, and Jaga stares at the pale, slimy ropes of intestines at her feet, a bit non-plussed, a bit chagrined.
“This would have worked better in a horizontal position, pet,” I murmur, unable to help myself. “Unless you enjoy the gore, then by all means. See what happens if you step on them.”
Nienad screams in agony, the sound muffled, and Jaga gives me a look of mock outrage.
“But that would be needlessly cruel. I’m conducting a serious experiment.”
She sounds amused, her eyes flashing as she bends down to pick up the intestines. They slide through her fingers while Nienad screams until his voice gives out, his throat hard, all muscles taut as he writhes in his restraints.
