Chapter 14 #2
“Fifty lashes,” the queen declared. “Not twenty-five. For he is not just a citizen; he is your future king.”
“No,” I whimpered. “No, no…” But I must’ve said the words too loudly because a cloaked man looked up from among the throng of guards.
Ravin.
He spotted me and shot me a stern glare that seemed to say, Don’t do it. Don’t scream.
I wanted to yell at him to go to Hel, but I knew why he was glaring at me. If I screamed, if I made my presence known, this entire plan would crumble to pieces. The punishment Jack was about to endure would be for nothing.
Tears burst from my eyes, anger boiling me from the inside. Ravin shook his head slightly, another warning, and mouthed, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
But it didn’t matter.
Because the sentence had been cast.
And the heir to the crown was about to bleed.
Varik and the two guards stepped forward and yanked off Jack’s cloak, the heavy velvet dropping from his shoulders like a slashed curtain.
Another tore at the seams of his tunic until the fabric split down the spine, revealing his bare torso to the wind.
Skin like sculpted marble stretched taut across muscle and sinew, pale as snowfall.
He looked hewn from frost itself. Yet even from my perch above, I saw it: the slightest tremor in the small of his back, as though the wind had found a crack in his resolve.
He’d fought like a monster to save me. He could’ve easily freed himself. His magic was stronger than his mother’s. He didn’t have to go through with this.
Fight, damn it. Fight!
Still, he did not resist. He stood unmoving, his expression carved from stone.
Fuck. Was this pride? Was it guilt? That gods-damned righteous heart of his was going to be his end.
Lord Kaelven emerged, bearing something in his gloved hands.
Oh, Gods… My soul trembled.
“Behold, citizens of Isenheim,” the queen began, taking the item into her hands and lifting it for the crowd to see. “The Drekhvaen Shackle.”
It was a collar crafted of volgrath iron, veined with crimson runes that pulsed with an internal light, resembling simmering coals.
“To show that the law applies, not just to the weak and voiceless, but also to those born in palaces and blessed by the Gods, the prince shall be punished as any common fae of Skadgard would be punished. Without the mercy a royal title would normally award him. Without the magical healing his lineage would grant him.”
I choked on a breath. The crowd fell silent, their eyes locked on Lord Kaelven as he walked toward Jack.
By now he knew what they intended to do to him, but he still refused to be intimidated, especially not by that conniving courtier.
He squared his shoulders and dug his gaze into Kaelven’s eyes.
I couldn’t hear what they said to each other, but whatever Jack spat at him was enough to twist Lord Kaelven’s smile into something venomous and baleful before he fastened the collar around Jack’s neck.
“While he wears the shackle, his pain will be unmuted, his healing delayed,” the queen said.
“The scars carved into his flesh will remain as a reminder. Proof that your prince bleeds as you bleed. But rest assure, my son will endure his punishment with honor and humility. And once he has soaked the stones you stand on with his blood and tears, you will accept his penance. And your cries for justice will cease.”
She turned from the dais, not even bothering to look at her son, her gown trailing behind her like a ribbon of black blood as she swept into the palace with one final command, “Let it be done.”
She abandoned him.
She left him…
Agonizing grief burst from my lungs, and this time my voice rang out like a war cry hurled from the heavens. “Jack!”
The crowd was too entranced in their blood thirst to hear me, but as the guards dragged Jack forward to the whipping post and fastened his arms around it with thick iron chains, Jack turned his head, lifting his gaze to the balcony—to me.
His beautiful blue eyes were rimmed with shadows, and it felt as though he was already surrendering his soul to the darkness.
He nodded once and curled a faint, trembling smile. Don’t worry. I will survive this.
I shook my head at him. Refusing to accept this cruel punishment.
A single tear rolled down his cheek, and my world shattered. He knew that watching him get torn apart would break me, and that was enough to cleave his heart in two.
He didn’t ask me to leave, though. He didn’t pretend he was so courageous that he didn’t need me.
Dropping his chin, Jack wrapped the chains around his fists, bracing himself against the post, his breath coming in short bursts, his entire body tensing as the scourgemaster raised Soulstripper high above his head, the tail hissing as it dragged across the stone.
One.
The first blow cracked through the courtyard like a thunderclap, followed by a sickening wet slap. Jack’s body arched against the post, muscles flexing, but he made no sound, except for a breath hissed between his teeth.
Two.
The crowd cheered, loud and gleeful, as the second lash struck just beneath the first, a spray of blood misting the air.
Three. Four.
On the fourth, a grunt escaped him, low and guttural, but he did not scream.
Five. Six. Seven.
By the seventh lash, Soulstripper struck true, tail digging in like a beast’s claw and tearing through skin as though it were parchment.
The courtyard reeked of iron, and my mouth filled with the taste of blood.
Jack’s back was a ruin of flayed flesh, blood dripping down his sides, staining the stones beneath him in crimson rivulets. Still, he refused to scream.
Eight. Nine. Ten.
He didn’t cry out.
Reality became a blur. A nightmare. The chanting crowd, the rhythmic crack of the whip.
I shuddered.
Body shaking and blood dripping from his brow, his eyes found mine again, heavy-lidded and dazed. Stay with me, they seemed to whisper.
“I’m with you…” I mouthed, tears welling in my eyes, my knees threatening to buckle beneath me. My hand gripped the balustrade for support. I thought I might wretch. The world swam. There was so much blood, too much. His back was no longer recognizable. Just mangled, torn meat.
Time seemed to stand still as the lashes continued to rain over him.
His entire body shook with each strike. His jaw was clenched so tight, he could probably crack stone, but he kept his eyes trained on me.
As if looking at me was the only thing keeping him from falling apart, though I was fighting a losing battle to keep myself from unraveling before him.
Twenty.