"No, you have been itching to beat her like this since her arrival—“
"You have been too soft on her!” she shouted. "The liberties this girl has taken cannot be reversed. You—“
"The Prince cannot see her in such a state.” He cut her off as though it was an end to the conversation. "I will travel to meet him on my own and ensure all his desires are ready—“
"What—“
"Youwill stay here and oversee her," he finished.
A long pause dragged between them, and Nyssa managed to look up, finding Shae's arms crossed, her eyes wide. "You will deny my chance at seeing our Prince's arrival because of this brat?!" she snapped.
"This was your doing," he seethed. "You should have brought her to me and told me what she'd done. Something other than beating her senseless could have been arranged. She was meant to be a gift for him, and now you've gone and ruined that just as you do everything else. Etta will have my fuckinghead."
"Bech—“
"I am leaving," he cut her off again. "At the end of the Black, I will send a carriage to fetch her. Three weeks is all we can afford. Make sure she is ready by then. Hair cleaned. Body healed. Groomed. Mouth and body ready to take his cock however he wants it. You have three weeks, Shae," he told her. "Don't fuck this up as well."
The wind from his whipping back the door again hit her face, and Nyssa waited for Shae to approach. She was sure she would have some comment about her costing her the chance to see the Prince's arrival. Sure the wife would kick or hit her again.
"Get her up," Shae instructed the Porter. "Take her to my maids to be cleaned and find the surgeon."
Nyssa’s body was pulled off the floor, insides numb, and Nyssa hardly remembered what happened next.
For a week, Nyssa was gifted with the reprieve of not being harassed by the wife.
For a week, she was bathed and bandaged. By the seventh afternoon, she could actually see. The swelling had gone down on her face, and she could feel her skin again. That morning, she sat up and wiggled her toes a bit more than she'd been able to the day before.
The Porter who came for her in the afternoon was gentler than he'd been on the previous. So much so that Nyssa instantly became wary of him. As he pulled her from the ground, she caught a whiff of the familiar death stench, and she stilled on the spot.
"Do you have a name," she started, "Or should I just call you Infi?"
The guard paused in front of her and pulled the helmet off his head. Dark yellow eyes met hers, and this time she didn't shift from him.
"I'm impressed," he told her.
Nyssa’s teeth set. "You called her the other night, didn't you?" she asked. “You told the wife I had escaped. You knew how she would react."
The Infi only smiled at her.
"Why didn't you want me at Savigndor yet?"
Because she knew he had a plan. He hadn't called the wife simply to toy with her.
But he didn't respond, and instead, he wrapped his arm around her shackled wrists. "Bron," he said, to which she frowned.
"Bron?"
"My name."
Her legs were stiff, but she forced them to move. "Are you one of the original marked Infis like North?"
"I am. There were three of us."
The confession nearly made her stop walking, but Bron tugged her forward.
"You have survived well in your days here," he said, and Nyssa knew it meant he did not want to talk any more of his heritage. "Much more than I thought you would have."
"I imagine you thought I would break with the first whipping."
