I snarled like a wild animal, tearing my hand from his grasp. He stood, unperturbed, as I retreated, breaths ragged. If only I had a weapon—a blade, a vase—anything to break this man’s perfectly calm serenity.
“He is doing his duty, and you would be wise to let him.”
“He’s being flogged for bringing me, your thrice-cursedLost Princess,back to you! Shouldn’t you be throwing a feast in his honor? Celebrating his finding me?!” I shrieked, past caring who heard me.
“He has failed to do his job.” Anderz stepped up to me and bravely took my hand, placing it on his arm. “He is protecting you. Let him do that.”
“How? How is thisprotectingme?!”
“He is suffering the prince regent’s wrath. It will buy you time, though if you put yourself in the prince’s sights, it will be in vain.”
“Is he still being flogged?” I asked, cursing myself that my voice cracked with the question.
“The regent… he likes to draw it out. As he chose to see to the flogging personally, yes, I imagine he is.”
“Then take me to him.”
“As you wish.”
I wasn’t so foolish to miss the note of resignation in his words, as if he was appeasing a child. We hurried through the corridors and down the stone staircases. Anderz nodded and greeted everyone we passed without halting, as if sensing somehow that stopping would trigger my flight.
Mentally, I chastised myself for my stupidity. Sainte had ridden just as hard and eaten less, yet there I was sleeping the day away while he suffered my brother’s wrath. I was a princess, for gods’ sake. My jaw clenched as I recalled the mass of scars on his back. This time, I could protect him, at least.
“Elspeth, do not forget yourself,” Anderz whispered as we turned a corner and headed into the crisp sunshine.
My heart dropped, and my blood ran as cold as the dusting of fresh-fallen snow. A hundred yards out, a tall, thick pole jutted from the ground with a chain threaded through a hole. Shackles clung to the chain, encircling Sainte’s wrists. A small crowd lounged on wooden benches, chatting and chuckling over steaming mugs. They were bundled against the elements, a sharp contrast to the bare-chested man shivering against the pole.
My gaze fell to the vivid red splatters staining the snow, remnants of the whip tearing flesh. Nausea surged as I lifted my eyes to Sainte’s back, where a piece of skin the size of my finger dangled.
“Curse you!” I spat, wrenching my hand from Anderz.
The crowd fell silent, faces turning toward me, expressions filled with intrigue. Adastrus swung the short whip like a pendulum, keeping his back to me. He stood there, having shed his cloak, donned in an embroidered dark tunic and tight-fitting trousers. Black boots hugged his legs, ending at his thighs. He turned, watching me from the corner of his eye with a smile. A sick slash of joy marred his handsome face.
“Curse you all!” I called out louder, stepping away from Anderz.
Sainte leaned his head against the stake, panting. He made no move to look at me, even if he could have managed the movement. My brother stood still, swinging the black whip with its many tails, back and forth, sending fresh droplets of crimson to stain the white snow.
“I am Princess Elspeth, lost to the Kingdom of Wynterborne.”
I halted within the half-circle of onlookers, their eyes trained on me, a few stealing glances at my brother. Panic raced through my chest, screaming for me to act.
“You should rejoice at my return,” I demanded, voice tinged with bitterness. “YourLost Princesshas returned. The gods chose Captain Nytestorm to bring me back, and this is how you repay him? This is how you repay the gods?” Disgust curled my lip. I could play on their fear of divine retribution. If they were religious, they would feel the sting of that accusation.
“Gods, dear sister?”
Dread hit me like a stone in my gut.
Adastrus turned, the motion slow and meticulous. His hair, damp with sweat, clung to his forehead. Madness glittered in the depths of his green eyes, and I stifled a shudder. I was a princess. I could do this. We were equals.
“The throne and gods dictate the laws,” he murmured, as if enlightening a child. “Have you been removed so long that you’ve forgotten the punishment for a soldier’s falsehoods?”
“Falsehoods? He never lied,” I said, proud that my voice remained steady.
Adastrus didn’t even blink, but held my glare with an unnerving ease. “Oh, but he did. A recruiter makes a vow of thirty recruits a year, in exchange for a full belly and roof overhead.”
He dropped his gaze and gave an innocent shrug, swinging the whip and splattering blood on my boots. I shook with caged rage, and clenched my jaw so tightly it popped.
“See, I’ve kept my vow. I fed him, sheltered him, paid him handsomely… and do you know how he repaid me—?”
