“Such a pathetic, useless being,” Caius sneered. “You are nothing. Good for nothing but to serve. And when Mountheim’s lord falls, that’s exactly what you’ll do.”
A hand shot out, fingers closing around my throat with crushing force before snapping my head back against the floor. Pain lanced through my skull, and a whimper slipped from my lips before I could choke it down.
My pulse thundered, panic thrashing inside me, but there were too many hands holding me down.
I couldn’t even glance at them as they rained down blow after blow, each strike filled with a seething, unrelenting hatred. A fist collided with my face, my head whipping sideways. The hardest, strongest hit Gwinifer had struck me with during training was nothing compared to their utter execration. I couldn’t help myself, couldn’t avoid feeling pathetic as I lay on that filthy wood, beaten and helpless.
A fresh burst of agony ruptured along my ribs. Something cracked. A fractured scream wrenched from my chest, and I choked on the coppery taste rolling down my throat.
My dress had shifted, the slit exposing my thigh. I could only hope they didn’t strike anything vital, didn’t hit my head hard enough to cause a concussion or a fatal wound.
They loomed over me, their faces twisted in revulsion, in cruelty. As if I were nothing. Not even a person.
This will end. Soon.
It was Gwin’s voice, replaying in my head exactly as she had said it weeks ago. She told me not to panic, because it would not last. Just flee and reach for something beyond the agony, beyond their voices, beyond their fists.
So I thought of my sister. The way she hums when she cooks, the relaxed expression on her face.
She was safe.
I thought of Reagan, and a whimper built. No. The way he danced with me, the triumphant gleam in his eyes.
I cried out as another brutal kick landed against my side, right where I was certain a rib had already cracked. I braced for more, black spots filling my vision, waiting for the moment my body would give out completely.
They’d stopped. Through the haze of pain, I registered movement. Two of them stepped away, retreating beyond my line of sight, but Caius remained. He crouched beside my head, his breath uneven.
“You actually look better this way,” he murmured, eyes sweeping over me. “How are you warding yourself? What has he done?”
He leered then, his gaze cold and venomous. His hand came down, pinning me in place. I tried to move, but every muscle throbbed and burnt. Caius smiled. “As he will see, we can still hurt you.”
A shiver wracked me at the promise in his voice.
Darkness surged behind my eyes until rough hands seized my shoulders again, shaking me. A voice rasped close to my cheek.
“We are far from finished,” Caius said. “You don’t look broken enough.” He closed his fingers around my throat, the pressure not enough to hurt but enough to warn. “When I strip away the last ward he left on you, you’ll be perfect.”
A suffocating pull tightened in my chest, fear and relief for the rune on my thigh battling for space inside me.
He couldn’t compel me. He couldn’t.
I wanted to beg him to leave me.
Caius tapped my face twice, enough to sting, then slipped beyond my field of vision. Yet I could still feel his vile touch, hear the echo of his promise, the whisper of further torment meant to grind me into something small and debased.
CHAPTER 29
It felt like hours had passed while I lay on the floor.
My focus drifted between the rhythmic tick of the clock on the wall and the pulse of agony around my ribs. The bruises across my body had settled into a constant, grinding ache, and I dared not shift too much. Each breath scraped against my lungs, like inhaling shards of glass.
Varian returned. He questioned the Scions, what they had done, why I wasn’t moving. It sounded like disapproval, but I might have imagined it. He stepped closer, sneering down at me, muttering something I couldn’t make out. That was when I realised—I wasn’t hearing properly. Not because they were far, but because my senses had dulled.
I barely registered his hand pressing against my ribs until searing pain lanced through me. An unforgiving heat, wrapping tight around broken bone, then nothing.
“Get up,” Varian barked, stepping back. “It won’t be long now. Hold her against the wall.”
A pop in my ears sent the world rushing back in. My next breath came easier, the sharp pain in my torso strangely absent. The rest of my body still throbbed: the bruises, the swelling, the deep-set ache of fists and boots branding my skin.
