Chapter 4 The Fleshripper
The Fleshripper
Blood dripped into my eyes.
All night, I’d remained locked in the dark with only thoughts of my Yulla and fears for my littles to haunt my mind.
Now two more brutes dragged me through the palace faster than my bruised and battered body cared to move. What was the point?
Part of me believed they’d take me to see the heads of my family piked on a fence. I steeled myself against the anguish, preparing to see them all dead.
Another part imagined they would kill me in front of my tidelings, then sell off Gavyn and Celine to a life of misery.
“Get up.” One of the guards grunted and heaved under my arm, forcing me upright.
The second shoved against the doors of the great hall and let me stumble inside. A crowd had gathered. Folk of the Ever, some nobles from all the houses, courtiers of the palace, all looked at me with a wary contempt.
From the dais where the Ever King’s throne was placed, a slow applause built. Harald rose from the king’s seat, sneering. Behind him stood the dark earth fae who stole strength from our sea witches, spoke of nothing but revenge against the earth fae who’d killed Thorvald and corrupted our lands.
He would take the Ever to war against the earth realm, no doubt. And Harald would allow it.
He’d destroy our lands.
“Lord Sewell. How was your night?”
Laughter rippled through the great hall. One of the guards struck me on the back of my skull. I cared little and glanced around, desperate to find my littles.
Harald crouched in front of me, his eyes like an empty storm. “Your pretty mate was sent to the tides. I bet we’ll be finding pieces of her for weeks. No burial, no ceremony, no funeral pyre. She will be forgotten, as will you.”
My jaw pulsed with unmanaged fury.
Harald clicked his tongue and stood. “You were a good house lord, Sewell. Which is the only reason I now offer you a chance at a swift death. Your son was found, unaware of his father’s treachery. He has the House of Mists at his side.” Harald seemed perturbed at the notion of it.
From the corner of my eye, I found where Narza and several witches and sirens from the House of Mists stood. Somber, dressed in dark silks. I took their stoicism to mean they mourned the loss of one of their own.
Yulla. Her voice, her sweet siren’s call would not be heard in these waters again.
I returned my glare to Harald. “My son is innocent.”
“And he will stay that way if you do as I say.” Harald snapped his fingers and a palace guard shoved me forward.
“No.” The word slid over my tongue. My girl was dragged forward, her tiny wrists bound in rough rope.
Tears had stained the soft brown of her skin, and her brilliant blue eyes sparkled with more.
Bruises marred her face, and a bloody bandage covered her throat.
My heart stalled. Gods, no. They’d cut out her damn siren call.
Bastards. I wanted nothing more than to see them all torn to pieces for touching my daughter.
Harald took hold of the rope, tugging Celine against his leg. She cried and whimpered but lifted her gaze to me.
I smiled. Forced, no doubt, but she was terrified. I’d die before I looked away.
“You hid a child from the crown, Sewell. A rare daughter for a lord. Might be rather powerful for all we know.” Harald patted Celine’s head, laughing when she flinched. “Here is where you must make a choice—your heir and bloodline living on in the House of Bones, or your girl.”
“Speak plainly, Harald.” I would never choose between my children. I’d die first.
“The girl will not live.” Harald flashed his teeth. “I assure you, we will see to it she dies slowly and painfully. Then you will follow. Your boy will watch.”
“You bastard. She is a child.”
“What does that matter? She will not always be one.” Harald knelt beside Celine and pressed a kiss to her cheek, laughing when my girl let out a choked sob.
“Tideling,” I whispered. “Look at me. Only me.”
Gods, she was so sweet, so small, but she lifted her chin and held my stare.
“You can spare her a violent death,” Harald said. “If you are the one to kill her.”
All gods.
I did not see a way out. I did not know how to best Harald here. Not when he blocked my voice, not when he had blades pointed at my daughter, not when Gavyn was alone and vulnerable.
Celine trembled. I wasn’t certain how much she understood, but she knew there was danger here. How could I do it? How could I put my hands on her and watch the light leave her precious eyes?
“Make your choice,” Harald hissed.
“He has no choice.”
Murmurs filtered across the great hall. My heart stuttered in my chest. Flanked by two young crewmen, the boy king stepped into the hall.
Erik Bloodsinger was skinny and scarred, hardly formidable. One ear had recently been pierced when he reached the age of eight, but the other would not come until he reached ten. His voice was high and pitchy and he walked unsteadily on his crooked leg.
Still, the boy had a fire in his eyes, a hatred and power that urged grown fae to give him a wide berth.
He met my gaze for half a breath and smirked. Slippery as a little eel, that was the boy Ever King.
Erik faced his uncle. Harald returned the look with disdain. Once he doted on the future king, but that all changed with Thorvald’s death and the dark fae. Harald wanted the crown, but the blood crown would never choose him.
“Erik,” Harald snapped, “this isn’t for you.”
“I thought I was king. Isn’t everything for me? That’s what you always tell me, Uncle.” The boy looked around. “All this is mine. I ought to learn to protect it.”
“Aye, but this—”
“I want the girl.” Erik sneered at Celine. “I need somethin’ to test my blood. Never know how much to use to cause damage and all that. Call it practice.”
“No.” I tugged on the hands holding me bound.
“Well thought, Nephew.” Harald’s face brightened. He barked a laugh and handed the end of Celine’s rope to the crewman next to the young king.
Celine cried out for me, reaching her bound hands. I struggled, desperate to reach her. The boy king was just like Thorvald, brutal, murderous, and now—
I hesitated. Erik met my gaze before he turned to follow the crewman and my sobbing daughter. He…winked.
“Execute him in the morning, says I,” Erik said, trying to keep his small voice demanding despite his youth. “Let him think about her screams.”
“And that is a glimpse at the Ever King who will take us to our revenge one day!” Harald bellowed, drawing a few cheers from the crowd. They applauded Erik Bloodsinger. They cared nothing for the tears of my girl.
They were the last things I heard before I was pulled away and tossed back into the dark cell.
“My nephew showed promise today.” Harald’s dark voice cut through the room. He held with him heavy mallets, chains, and blades, all rolled in sealskin. “I’ve been told your girl has done nothing but scream as he poisons her and sings her back to health.”
Harald dropped his weapons.
I said nothing, watching his every move.
“I know the king wished to see you slaughtered on the morrow, but I thought we could have a bit of fun first.”
I closed my eyes.
Soon, Yulla. I shall be with you soon.
I didn’t fight when Harald bound my wrists and stretched me against the wall. I bit down on my roars of pain when he slashed into my skin, when he beat my bones. I felt my mind grow hazy with each club to my skull.
Thoughts, words, time—they all melded together into a cloud of unease as he beat me. Tortured me.
Soon. I would be with her soon.