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Liam steps forward again.

“The Aspirants have done well, bearing their humiliation before the Order. And now our brothers must do the same.”

I look up at Edwin, caught off guard. It never occurred to me that anything would be required of the men.

His expression doesn’t change.

He already knew.

Masked attendants begin rearranging the chamber. The shackles and instruments are removed. In their place, they wheel in two poles, each mounted to a base and topped with a rounded metal sphere. A block of ice is positioned on either side of each pole, already sweating. A low black fire pit is rolled in behind them, flames leaping towards the ice.

Heat brushes my skin even from here. The air shifts between extremes of hot and cold.

The Veiled Matrons return for Bridget and me. I don’t want to leave Edwin’s side, my fingers catching in his cloak until he gives the smallest nod. Only then do I let them guide me forward.

They position one ice block beneath each of my feet. The pole rises between my legs until the top sphere nudges into my pussy just enough to feel it there with the slightest stretch.

What hurts most is the clash of temperatures. Cold bites into the soles of my feet. Heat claws at my back.

If I step down, the pole will drive deeper inside me and I won’t be able to lift myself off it. I’m caught between three punishments at once. Every direction offers a different kind of suffering.

Bridget is placed beside me in the same predicament. She has mostly wiped her face clean, though the remnants still streak her breasts.

Across from us, Edwin and Patrick are brought into position, stripped of their cloaks, leaving them shirtless as they kneel facing us. Men secure their wrists to the rings set in the floor.

My heart races. Why do they need to be restrained?

Liam’s voice carries through the chamber. “Edwin and Patrick have chosen their proxies. Step forward.”

Two masked men move behind them. The one behind Patrick is huge, built like a wall. Even from here, his strength is obvious. Reese, I think. It has to be.

The man behind Edwin is smaller, though still powerful. I assume it’s the man who was glued to Patrick’s side last night.

The Veiled Matrons hand each proxy a whip. The first lash lands across Edwin’s back.

I flinch so hard my entire body jerks. The crack of leather against flesh makes my heart twist.

Back and forth, the men strike them. Edwin’s back absorbs each impact without a sound. His jaw tightens. His hands curl into fists in the restraints.

Then his eyes find mine.

Blue. Bright with intensity.

I want to go to him. Hold him. Lessen the pain I know he’s enduring.

The lashes continue falling. He takes it with relative ease. His shoulders tense. His breathing deepens. Yet he remains silent.

Patrick doesn’t.

Reese’s whip comes down with brutal force, and Patrick’s cries fill the chamber despite his efforts to keep his mouth shut. Bridget sighs, sounding more irritated than concerned.

My feet slide on the ice as it melts. The cold stings so badly. The pole presses farther up inside me, forcing me to hold myself rigid through the burn in my legs.

Still, I keep my eyes locked on Edwin like he told me to.

He’s stronger than anyone I’ve ever known. I don’t know how he’s doing it, taking this punishment without a sound.

The Veiled Matrons return carrying black crystal decanters, and the proxies step back. I shake my head when I realize what’s happening.