The flail comes down across my back, spreading its barbed flame tips. I bite my teeth so hard, I think they’ll break. I won’t cry out. I won’t give him that satisfaction.
My cheek scrapes against the wooden post. It stands like a sentinel in Nether Reach’s square. Through the black edges of my vision, I see quite a crowd has gathered to witness the Prince of Thorns’ punishment. There are chittering goblins and soldiers alike. There’s even a cave troll or two in the back.
Can’t blame them. I’d watch me get whipped, too.
My mother’s not here, though. I think she left after the first fifty lashes.
“Decided to join us, pretty?” A voice sneers behind me.
I curse the delay of the next strike. It’s easier to disappear in the rhythm of it, but the pause only amplifies the impact of the pain. Groaning, I glance over my shoulder. The Queen of the Below must be furious with me, as she assignedhim.
No one remembers his real name, or they don’t care to, but in the Tower of Nether Reach, he’s known as Emberlash, a twisted deserter of the Autumn Realm with a disposition for fire. He’s enchanted his barbed whip with flames.
It’s stupidly effective at not just breaking apart the skin but searing through the muscle down to the bone. The pain jolts me fully back into reality, and I silence another cry. Stars,it feels like he’s stripped my whole spine bare.
“Did you hear me, beautiful?” Emberlash jeers. He’s filed his teeth into points, giving his words an airy hiss. “Ready to cry for mercy now?”
“Just woke up from a nap,” I call, trying desperately to hide the hoarse quaver in my voice. “Barely felt a thing so far.”
The fae gives an animalistic sort of snarl. Anyone who ventures to the Below has to be somewhat unbalanced, and Emberlash is no exception.
Perhaps to my own detriment.
With a swift, malicious swing, the flail cracks down upon my back. The barbs, wickedly sharp, tear through what’s left of my flesh. Waves of heat engulf me, and it smells like burning. Seven realms,is that my own skin?Don’t cry out, don’t cry out.
I need to disappear deep into my mind. I built these retreats, these escapes, not just to hide from the pain, but to block out the whispers.
Not the goblins’ jeering or Emberlash’s taunts.
But the whispers within.
The Green Flame, slithering through me like a snake waiting to strike.You could annihilate them all, crumble this tower, and never submit.
If I used that magic.
I lost control of it once. I won’t again.
It’s what she wants. Sira wouldn’t care if I destroyed this tower with green flames. No, she’s hoping for it. Hoping for the day I get so fed up with these punishments, I give in to it.
But it’ll take a lot more than this to break me.
So, I build the house of roses. I escape into it, because today, she’s here.
Rosalina looks half made of flowers in my imagination.You’re here because of me,she says.
My mother found out I lied and that I knew of her power all along. Now, like me, Sira knows exactly who Rosalina is.
And she isn’t happy I kept that from her.
The whipping continues, and I feel my feet slipping. It’s worse being held up only by the chains. She sentenced me to two hundred lashes, but Emberlash will keep me here until his arm gives out, or until I give him a scream or a beg. I’ve lost count, and surely there must be no more skin on my back.
I pull Rosalina down on the bed. I imagine kissing her. Because Ididkiss her. A stupid, reckless, amazing kiss. A kiss to get me through what was to come.She liked it.I know she did.
My knees buckle and slam to the ground. I’m coughing up blood now. Taunts and shouts breach my barrier. The roses are turning to cursed thorns. They’re dying. Reality crashes in.
Rosalina.
She kissed me in a way that makes me want to rethink everything. Because if Farron succeeds at what I asked him to do, would that shatter what’s between us?
