I lurched back, barely clinging on while trying to dodge the open flame that stretched toward the fabric of my shirt. The lantern swung once, twice, then fell, plummeting after my dropped bow and shower of arrows.
The bow and arrows landed harmlessly, but the lantern found another target. Sayla, who had been climbing up behind me, shrieked as it struck her, dousing her with oil that soaked the front of her dress.
Fire blossomed up her front. Smaller flames danced on the ground around her, catching on loose pieces of hay and spreading impossibly fast. I leaped off the ladder and raced toward my sister, who wailed and thrashed as the fire blanketed every bit of her.
Panic rocked me, and I could think of nothing better to do than grab hold of her. Oil slicked my hands and flames raced over it, biting at my fingers and singeing my skin, merging Sayla and me in a raging ball of heat.
Sayla bawled—incoherent, strangled noises—as I dragged her, kicking, from the barn. The fire seemed to chase us, cutting trails through the dirt and pooling where the lantern lay abandoned. Outside, I staggered and stumbled, trying to hold on while it felt like someone had taken a knife to my hands and was flaying the flesh from the bone.
I bawled for Father, shouting as loud and hard as I could to be heard over Sayla’s wails.
The flames didn’t die.
They were eating her up, consuming us both, and I searched the darkened fields for something or someone to help. My sister howled ungodly sounds as I pulled her through the dirt, straining my wiry muscles and grinding my teeth till my jaw ached.
Shouts broke the silence as Father, Mother, and Merrick raced from the house. They bolted toward the barn, which was now fully ablaze with flames roaring inside and darting out through the open door and loft window.
I called for them, choked and raspy, and prayed someone would hear. Finally, I collapsed on the cold ground and dared to look at Sayla sprawled beside me. Her calico dress was consumed with flames, and her face had gone horribly wrong. Her skin was bubbling, peeling, and red, and her long, blonde hair had been reduced to patches. I tried to work my way onto my knees, but the pain that ripped up my arms forced me down.
Father and the others rushed up from behind us. Merrick grabbed and dragged me back, breaking my hold on Sayla. I thrashed and shrieked at him like my sister had done to me, trying to claw my way to her, but my brother wrapped me in his heavy wool cloak, smothering the flames that licked at my shirt sleeves.
Father similarly threw his cloak across Sayla’s limp body while Mother stood by with her hands over her mouth and her eyes so wide they reflected the orange glow of the barn’s blaze.
I wormed out of Merrick’s clutches to reach for my sister again, only then seeing the damage that had been mere feeling before. My fingers were curled and stuck in place, and my arms were studded with blisters. The skin on my palms was gone, having flaked away to reveal deep layers that should have stayed hidden. Past flesh to muscle.
I was gawking, dazed by pain, and reeling while Merrick looked down at me. Horror contorted his features.
“What did youdo, Penwell?” he demanded, using his hold on my shirt to give me a rough shake. “What in gods’ names did you do?”
Sound pulled me free of memory. Whimpering cries I thought to be Sayla’s rang in my ears, but from the way my throat ached and my chest felt reamed out of air, the piteous noises must have been my own.
Six brands had been applied.
Six statements repeated.
Only one remained.
I feared I couldn’t stand another, couldn’t say what was required, no matter how much I wanted to prove Merrick wrong. But different words trickled out and I couldn’t stop them.
“Please…” I sobbed, a shuddering mess of snot and tears. My whole body felt aflame, as agonized as it had been while I held Sayla that night outside the barn, my melted hands sticking to her arms. “No more…”
31
Kit
After the look Penny and I shared when he stopped beside the chair, I almost put a stop to everything. The terror on his face was undeniable, and I’d never seen him look so defeated. Even rebuffed and discouraged back at the pub in Forstford, he’d had an indomitable presence. But now, it was like he wanted to fade into the darkness at the edges of the room and cease to exist.
AndI’dbrought him here.
I fixed my eyes on the brazier and dug my nails into my palms to keep from reaching out to him. Any show of weakness or coddling would give Merrick reason to convince Levitt to refuse Penny entry, and I couldn’t risk that. This was what Penny wanted, and I wouldn’t sabotage him to soothe my own guilt.
Time seemed to slow, dragging the minutes of bearing witness to his suffering out into what felt like hours. With every whimper and whine, I ground my teeth to keep from telling the Sentinel to stop.
By the sixth brand, my fingers were numb from clenching,and my jaw ached, adding to the lingering pain that throbbed across the skin of my chest. It was almost over. That was the only thought keeping me on my feet while my knees threatened to buckle.
And then Penny spoke, begging for mercy in a voice so broken that I almost lost my grip on my composure.
Merrick started to rise from his seat with a malicious grin plastered to his face, but there was no chance I was letting him speak.
