Eryx moved his hand, and the end of the whip slithered across the floor. “And what’s your suggestion,farm boy?” It was more insult than question.
Carver’s expression hardened to match the king’s. “Ask her nicely.”
It took a moment for Eryx to smirk again. A malicious glint suddenly lit his moss-green eyes as he turned the whip in his hand and presented it to Carver, the bulbous tip of the thick, string-wrapped grip first. “Why don’tyoudo the asking?”
Carver stared at the grisly offering, his heart slamming against his ribs. The dried blood on the leather turned his stomach. He shook his head. “Not with that.”
The handle of the whip hovered between them until Eryx took a firm hold of it again and snapped the cord with a crack. Everyone around the king flinched except for Carver. Cleito bleated like a little russet lamb, and Carver resolutely stepped in front of her, making his position clear to anyone with eyes in their head.
“Either you whip her—twentyreallashes,” Eryx growled, “or I whipyou, and you never show your face here again. Your position is on the line,farm boy. Along with your skin.”
Carver’s rioting pulse echoed throughout his body. He’d been sliced, stabbed, burned, locked in savage battles, pitted against monsters, and plenty of other things, but he’d never been whipped, and he’d for godsdamned sure never whipped anyone. He wasn’t starting today. So what options did he have?
His nostrils flared. He could kill Eryx right now—and he was sorely tempted—but he’d never make it out of here alive. There were too many soldiers, including hisfriends. Killing Eryx himself also meant taking that honor from Bellanca. She’d been called to lead Atlantis, not him. He’d just forced his way in. And she’d said it herself: Magoi had to fight Magoi for a clear and indisputable transition of power. Besides, if he died today, it meant leaving her in Atlantis without any help. That seemed worse than his own demise, especially after he’d left everything behind just to make sure she wasn’t alone.
“I will never whip her,” he ground out. “And you shouldn’t, either.” Eryx was too cruel and ignorant to know Cleito wasprecious. She held the knowledge of the gods, and getting it out would take kindness, not this nightmare she lived in. Magic had been gone from Atlantis for so long the king didn’t even understand the gift he had in front of him. But maybe that was because Cleito wasn’t a gift for Eryx. She was a gift for them.
The realization hit like a lightning bolt. Carver hadn’t doubted he should protect Cleito, but now heknewit.
Eryx turned to Silas and Dex, already seeming to understand that they were Carver’s usual companions after only two shifts in the king’s immediate vicinity. “You two. Over here.” They obeyed, of course. “Take off his tunic. Hold him between you.” The wrath in the king’s voice—the sheer, unfettered fury—echoed throughout the throne room. Everyone else went so still and silent that the approaching men’s footsteps boomed out like thunder.
Dex and Silas wouldn’t look Carver in the eye as they did as the king commanded. Silas ducked his head, shaking it as a heavy sigh left him. Frowning, Dex took Carver’s sword and then handed it to Eryx when the king snapped his fingers for it. Disdain contorting his features, Eryx threw the blade across theroom, luckily not hitting anyone. It clattered to a stop, and no one touched it. Dex tucked Carver’s tunic into his own sword belt and then took a hold of Carver’s left forearm, squeezing once as if in sympathy. Carver ignored him. Silas picked up his right arm, and they held him firmly by the wrists, spreading his arms between them.
Carver’s mind flashed back to the automaton harpies holding Bel in the exact same way. It wasn’t even a day ago. His muscles ached from the effort of pulling the metal beasts apart, and his back would certainly still bear the evidence of scraping across the floor. No one said anything. His new bruises and old scars couldn’t go unnoticed, either, but this wasn’t about who he was or what he’d done. This was the punished wanting to feel powerful again by punishing someone else.
Dex and Silas turned him and positioned him to face a now-kneeling Cleito, fully offering his back to the king. Cleito clutched her ripped gown to her chest, her knotted hair spilling down her upper body. Carver looked right at her. She looked back at him, and for a split second, her swirling eyes focused.
“It’s almost over,” he whispered. The whipping today. Soon, her life with Eryx. He’d get her out of here. He vowed it. “Have courage.”
The seer’s lips parted on a sad smile. Her face softened. Carver missed having sisters to love and protect, and in the second before the first lash crashed into his skin, he imagined adding Cleito to whatever family he managed to cobble together in Atlantis.
Searing pain tore across his back. He hissed, arching on instinct. The solid grips holding each of his wrists intensified, helping to pull him upright. Straightening, Carver lifted his head. The middle of his back throbbed, a harsh sting cutting deep beneath a hot, pulsing ache. Breathing slowly, he waited,dread building with every banging heartbeat. When was the next strike coming? One lash was just the beginning of the battle. Twenty would be the end, and he’d come out on the victorious side of every violent conflict he’d ever been in. He’d spared Cleito the whip today. That would be his win.
The next hit bit deep enough to draw blood. Carver’s grunt of pain mixed with the crack of the cord as warm wetness welled up. His nostrils flaring, he ground his teeth. Eryx struck again and again, each lash more brutal than the last, hitting Carver’s back with salt-in-wound sharpness. Carver twisted, arching, but Dex and Silas held him firmly in place, flinching, too. The bastards. But if it wasn’t them, it would’ve been two others holding him in place.
Trickles of blood became a full, wet coating, his split skin radiating agony. Carver groaned, a dizzy sort of nausea rolling through him. He swayed, fighting the need to cry out with each new hit. He didn’t. Keeping quiet nearly broke him, but he wouldn’t give Eryx the satisfaction of hearing him shout.
Gasps still escaped him, his breath sawing in and out. His vision darkened, and he shook his head, lifting it to look at Cleito. He forced her into focus, and she kept her golden eyes on his face, her infinite gaze helping to ground him even as her mind whirled with all the knowledge of the cosmos.
Pain and anger and foreboding bled into one harsh reality, the whistle of the cord Carver’s only warning before searing, blinding torment tore through his body. As they neared twenty lashes, Eryx grunted with the effort to whip him harder. The cord cracked down with new ferocity, and Carver nearly buckled, his skin on fire.
Cleito’s gaze never left his face, pulling his wavering focus back to her. Carver held on to her bright eyes like a lifeline, their power giving him strength. “Under the surface, not above,”she murmured as the final lash hurtled down. Carver gasped. His sight dimmed, and he struggled to hear her through the rushing in his ears. “Look beneath her owl. Athena left it there.”
One leg gave out, and Carver forced it back under him, his foot slipping in his own blood. Red on white. Humanity on cold marble. His thoughts echoed from far away, distant and fading. He blinked forcefully, holding the darkness at bay.
Can’t forget.Under the surface. Beneath Athena’s owl. He knew what Cleito meant. He and Bel had seen the distinctive rock formation while searching the island for the key in their early weeks here. They’d gone dangerously far north and discovered a cliffside that looked just like a huge owl hanging over the sea. The Chaos Wizard’s oracular words nearly slid from his grasp, and he fought to maintain consciousness.
“What did you say?” Eryx jumped around Carver and loomed over Cleito. “Tell me now, you useless bitch.”
Cleito didn’t seem to register Eryx’s threatening posture. Her eyes lost focus again. “Fire in the sky. Sacrificial virgin.”
“For the gods’ sakes!” Eryx roared in frustration. He threw the bloody whip at Cleito, and she flinched as it thumped her in the face, leaving a slash of Carver’s blood across her forehead. “That’s all she’s said for days!”
Shadows crept in on Carver. He fought for clarity even though it meant keeping the pain omnipresent and pounding through him.Don’t forget.The skin on his back pulsed, hot with blood, burning with agony.
“Get him out of my sight,” Eryx spat at Dex and Silas. “If I see him again, he’s dead.” The king strode away without a backward glance, leaving even Cleito behind him.
Dex and Silas propped Carver between them and half carried him from the throne room, throwing him worried glances that Carver only vaguely noticed through a haze of pain and darkness.He closed his eyes for just a second, but when he opened them again, they were halfway to his lodgings.
