I say nothing. I wrap my blanket tighter, and walk to where the ashes of our old fire are scattered, cold and gray. I kneel and start gathering twigs, as if nothing at all has happened, as if I’m not naked and feeling lost and confused.
The blanket slips as I reach for one of the larger pieces of wood. Cool air brushes over my back. There’s a sharp inhale behind me.
I freeze.
When I turn, they’re all closer. All four of them are staring at me like they’ve just seen something they don’t understand. Something wrong.
“What?” I ask, frowning as I glance down at myself.My chest is covered. What are they staring at?
No one answers right away.
Cassius steps forward first, slow and careful, like I might break if he moves too fast. Sylvian follows, then Ashton. Even Oberon comes forward with a kind of restrained, dangerous stillness. Their eyes are fixed on my back.
My back? Oh, right. The wounds from being whipped by my grandfather.
I glance over my shoulder, then back at them. “Is it that bad?”
Because I’ve had worse. Much worse.They’re a bunch of seasoned warriors, surely my back isn’t enough to upset them. Right?
Sylvian’s face is pale, his usual warmth replaced with something tight and horrified. Ashton looks like someone just knocked the breath out of him. Cassius’s expression goes utterly still, all emotion buried so deep it makes him look colder than I’ve ever seen him.
And Oberon… Oberon looks furious. Not at me. At something else.Someoneelse.
“Show us the rest of it,” Sylvian says softly.
I hesitate, then shift, letting the blanket fall just enough to still cover my chest while exposing my back fully.
All four of them suck in a breath.
“Gods,” Ashton mutters.
“You’ve been walking around like this?” Sylvian asks, his voice breaking a little at the edges.
I blink. “Like what?”
Cassius’s jaw tightens. “Like you weren’t injured.”
I shrug, reaching for another stick. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine,” Oberon snaps.
The force of it makes me flinch slightly before I can stop myself.
His expression shifts instantly. The anger doesn’t disappear, but it redirects. Away from me.
“Who did that?” Ashton asks quietly.
“My grandfather,” I say.Surely they understand a parental figure punishing a child?
There’s silence. Thick, heavy silence.
Sylvian steps even closer, like he can’t help himself. “Why?”
“One of the chickens got out and was killed.” I shrug. “It was my fault.”
Ashton looks at me with an expression of disbelief. “So he, what? Did this to you… overa chicken?”
I nod. “As punishment.”
