Chapter 31
The purple evening sun of Vanfia filled the garden courtyard with its lavender light. Mayra sat on the bench often occupied by Terap, but the older woman was nowhere to be found. She looked down at hands that sat curled in her lap, unmoving.
“How did I get here?” she asked the air. “I don’t remember.”
Movement out of the corner of her eye caused her to turn her head. The sight of Rantel flanked by a retinue of female guards made her stomach queasy. She hated the king, sure, but the females were so unnecessarily vicious.
“Greetings, oracle,” Rantel said with a grin.
Mayra felt as if fear were choking her. A grin like that said Rantel was there to toy with her, not to badger her as usual for some prophecy of his future glory.
“Your Majesty,” she said, inclining her head.
“Kneel, you faithless dog,” one of his guards snarled, knocking Mayra off her perch and to her knees in the dust. She knew her back would ache later, but it would be nothing compared to the pain those women were capable of dealing out.
“I’ve got good news,” the king said, preening in front of his adoring audience. “Kange finally found your darling rescuer. He’s bringing him to me as we speak.”
No sooner were the words out of his mouth than the bounty hunter appeared at the courtyard entrance. Mayra gasped when she realized who was trailing behind him, wrapped in chains.No. It couldn’t be.
Kange pulled his captive in front of the king and kicked the back of his knees, causing the prisoner to fall on his face in front of Rantel.
“Here’s your man,” Kange spit, his half-scarred face sinister in the fading purple light. “Now give me my bounty.”
“Of course,” Rantel said with a shifty grin. “Take him to the treasurer.” He motioned over his most senior guard. She nodded, then pointed Kange in the direction of the palace hallway. She looked to the king before following and saw Rantel run a finger across his neck. The feral female guard smiled, licking her fangs before hurrying after the bounty hunter.
“String him up,” the king said, gesturing toward a post in the center of the garden that Mayra had never noticed before.In fact, I don’t think it was here before. Is that possible?
The guards leapt to do the king’s bidding, and before long, the male was strapped to the pole, his limbs tied tightly behind him, Nojan’s handsome face a mask of pain. And this was only the beginning.
“Please, sire,” Mayra began, already knowing that her pleas would fall on deaf ears. “I understand your anger, but I don’t believe killing him would be wise.”
“And why is that, oracle?” Rantel asked, his sly grin making her skin crawl.
“I’ve had a vision. If he dies, tragedy will befall your kingdom.” It was the only ploy she had, and it was a thin one.
“Is that so?” The king pretended to ponder her words, but she could tell he was only putting on a show. “Well, then, we’ll have to make sure to keep him alive. It’s more fun that way anyway.” He turned to one of the guards. “Bring me my scourge.”
No sooner had the king stretched out his hand than his faithful guard filled it with the nasty-looking whip-like device made of braided leather interspersed with evil metal hooks.
Mayra started to weep, unable to help herself. “Please don’t hurt him,” she begged.
Rantel laughed, drawing back his arm and lashing it forward. The hooks dug into Nojan’s skin, making it excruciating when they were yanked out again. At that moment, Demaylia wandered into the courtyard, already calling out. “Mayra, I need you. I have a—” She paused, studying the scene before her. “What are you doing, Father?”
“Just having a little fun,” he said, hitting Nojan again with the scourge.
“But you’re making Mayra cry,” she whined.
“Can’t be helped,” he replied, then set about whipping him over and over until the blood started to fly around them.
“Wait!” Demaylia cried. “Stop!”
Rantel arched an eyebrow at his daughter. “What?”
“Look at the scourge. At the blood. It’s black.”
“Territhians have red blood,” Rantel said dumbly.
Oh no,Mayra thought, terror gripping her.No. They can’t find out.
