"Better." But the vines continued their climb. "Tell them who you belong to."
The warmth in her chest flared, rebelling against the words. She clenched her jaw.
The vine tightened and she felt the sharp sting of a thorn piercing flesh. "Tell them."
"You," she said at last, the word forcing its way out. "I-I belong to you."
"Forever?"
The mark burned, the vines constricted and the court held its breath.
"Forever."
The word broke something in her. Tears ran freely now as she stood wrapped in living chains before creatures who viewed her suffering as entertainment.
"Wonderful… but unfortunately words alone are not enough, not in light of the accusations levied against me.Soft," he said again, as though the word itself tasted foul. "But what to do?"
His fingers hovered near her face.
"I could make you hunger for your own destruction. Cravings that would consume you from within, thirst that water can't quench, hungers that food can't satisfy. You'd seek relief in anything that might fill the void, never understanding why each attempt only deepens the need."
Briar struggled to maintain her composure even as a cold sweat broke across her skin. The court pressed closer, eager and engrossed.
"Or perhaps…your memories? I could take them. Make you forget faces before you’ve finished looking at them. Names as they're spoken. Every kindness shown, gone before it can warm you." He stopped in front of her, head tilted in consideration. "You'd remember only my voice. My touch. My commands. Nothing else would stay."
The vines tightened fractionally. Someone in the crowd made a soft sound of approval.
Each breath came shorter than the last as he continued his slow circuit, every new suggestion more insidious than the last. The court hung on every word, their anticipation pressing inward, heavy and suffocating.
"No… what about something more intimate? The mark can do far more than spread, after all. It can burrow deep. Imagine thorns growing beneath the skin, blooming internally. Every movement would be exquisite agony, and the flowers when they finally pushed through..." He paused in front of her again, studying her terror with calculated interest. "Beautiful."
"Please," she said.
"I find I quite enjoy hearing you beg." He reached out, finger hovering just above the mark on her wrist. "But which punishment fits the crime of making me appear weak?"
He turned to address the court. "She ran. She accepted aid from my enemies. She let another male's magic touch what I had marked as mine."
Murmurs of agreement, of condemnation. Lady Sarelle watched with unbridled satisfaction.
"So." Eliam's attention returned to Briar. "For such sins against my authority, I sentence you to..." He let the pause stretch until the court held its collective breath. "One night tending the bone garden."
The reaction was immediate. Gasps, whispers, and more than one fae stepping back as if the sentence might be contagious. Even Lady Sarelle's satisfied expression faltered, replaced by something that might have been anxiety.
"A whole night?" someone whispered.
“She’ll never make it.”
"One night, alone," Eliam confirmed, and his smile was terrible. "Unless, of course, anyone else would like to question my methods?"
At first nothing but silence answered him and then the court began to applaud, the sound wild and appreciative. They'd gotten their show, their proof that the Forest King remained as creatively cruel as ever.
Lady Sarelle bowed low. "Your methods are... thoroughly demonstrated, your grace."
"Leave," he said simply. "Before I decide you need a reminder as well. The garden always has room for more."
She fled, the others following quickly. The threat of the bone garden had done more than any display of violence could have.
Only when the hall had emptied did the vines begin to retreat. They withdrew slowly, leaving Briar standing on shaking legs. She would have fallen if Eliam hadn't caught her arm. She tried to pull away but he held fast, fingers tightening.
