I follow suit, instantly adjusting when I feel sharp sticks of hay stab through my pants.
“We’re going to start over with some stretching. You’re going to go slow, and you’re going to tell me when certain movements hurt or if you start to feel off-center. Then we’re going to try some positions from here.”
“Sitting down?”
“Yep. You’re going to have to re-learn to balance and move without the help of your ribbons. So for now, I’m keeping you planted on your ass so you can stop psyching yourself out and falling over. Besides, Rip will get all pissy if you’re covered in bruises. Now shut up, stop thinking that you’re failing, and let’s figure this shit out one step at a time.”
My lips pull up. Just like that, I feel the last of the clogged up tension roll off my shoulders. “Are yousurepeople say you’re a good trainer?”
He shrugs. “I’m paraphrasing.”
Laughing, I shake my head. “Alright. Let’s figure this shit out.”
Judd flashes me a grin. “Thatta girl.”
CHAPTER 21
AUREN
There’s a glint of agolden blade. A blade I gilded with my own hands. Everything else has gone drab in gray and white—even King Fulke, who pins me against his chest with that very blade and slices into my neck.
I scream and struggle, but the sharp sting of the edge just sinks in more, slicing through me and making blood drip down to my chest. Yet when the king leans in against my ear, it’s not Fulke’s voice at all. It’s not his pudgy body at my back.
It’s a clean-shaven face and gilded sleeves and carob-pod eyes. It’s deceit and abuse and golden reins clutched in his hands. Reins that he’s tied around my wrist, holding me still. Keeping me where he wants me.
“If I can’t have her, no one can. Isn’t that right, Precious?”His voice is vile, pressed against my ear with an offensive purr, trying to wind around me just as much as his words always did.
We’re in Ranhold again now, with so much gold in the room it’s blinding. As if it’s glaring at me—glaring athim. We’re right here, stuck in the middle of the ballroom, reliving it all.
Slade is in front of me with his Wrath, whilemywrath burns deep in my gut. Churning like magma ready to spew.
“Auren, use your ribbons.”
“Oh, she didn’t tell you? She lost that privilege.”
The dagger changes now, and I’m no longer pinned against Midas’s back, but pinned against a wall. It’s not gilded reins tied around my wrist, it’s my ribbon.
And then there’s a sound that the sword makes as it comes swinging down. It’s not a slice in the air, it’s not a whispered whistle. Itshatters. Like a body being flung out a window, or a fist slamming into a mirror.
Or the shattering of a soul.
With it, comes the pain.
Pain and pain and pain again. Pain as I fracture into a million pieces. Pieces that look like strips of satin falling frayed and bloody to the floor.
“This hurts me a lot more than it hurts you.”
I can’t hear my screams. Can’t hear myself wail or beg or grieve. It’s just an endless cracking of crystalline glass.
And then, it’s suddenly over. Jarring in the ringing silence, caught with daggers and ribbons and splintered shards beneath my feet.
Broken. I feel sobroken.
“You did this to yourself.”
I just stare at the shards of mirror, seeing my face in a thousand different pieces. Seeing my ribbons in a thousand more.
Seeing him.
