Chapter 21 Entertainments #2
“He was found lurking outside the castle walls,” Stellon explained. “He followed you here. Don’t worry. He’ll never get the chance to hurt you again.”
“Pharis didn’t hurt me. He would never hurt me,” I blurted, shocking myself.
The deep truth of those words resonated throughout my body, shaking loose some memories I seemed to have lost.
Riding here with Pharis. A soft kiss on the forehead. Tears leaving tracks on his solemn face.
“He kidnapped you,” Stellon growled. “He may not have hurt you, but his dragon did. He held you against your will. You said yourself he should be punished.”
“What’s going to happen to him?” I asked, beginning to panic.
“No more than he deserves,” Stellon answered.
“He must pay the price for his crimes, like any citizen of the kingdom,” he said, sounding hauntingly like his royal sire.
“My brother caused the death of my father the King, along with many others. He faked his own death. Most importantly, he took what was mine.”
“What was yours?” I blinked rapidly, my brain struggling to process.
He means me.
Stellon had never resembled his father more.
“Please,” I said. “Don’t do this.”
Shaking my hand off, he stood and went to the front of the dais.
He raised his arms, and there was silence.
“My esteem falls upon you,” he said to the crowd.
“And mine upon you,” the wedding guests responded in unison.
“No citizen of Avrandar is above the law,” Stellon said. “And all criminals must face justice, no matter who they are.”
Turning toward Pharis, he announced, “Pharis Randalin, you are charged with the crimes of thievery, deceit, and treason against the crown. Your sentence is public scourging… to the brink of death.”
Heart screaming, I launched from my chair, rushing toward Stellon to protest. He turned around and walked swiftly back to his throne, dragging me along with him.
Setting me firmly back into my seat, he leaned close so his words were muttered against my ear.
“You’re embarrassing yourself—and me,” he said. “This is not Waterdale, Raewyn. You’re in the Fae world now. This is how things are done here. If you want to be Queen, you’ll have to get used to it.”
But I don’t want to be Queen.
The instantaneous thought blared through my mind. It must have projected beyond me as well because Stellon’s head jerked back, and his expression contracted in horror.
“Did you just… say something?”
Shaking my head rapidly, I denied it. I needed to think this through. I had to intervene somehow to help Pharis.
After all he’d done, I wasn’t sure why it was so necessary, but it was.
And to do that, instinct told me I had to avoid angering Stellon.
“You don’t need to do this for my sake,” I assured him. “I am here. I am unharmed and can barely remember the time I spent away from you in his castle.”
“That’s the problem. Who knows what happened while you were there with him? I couldn’t sleep last night thinking of it. He glamoured you. He could have done anything to you and made you forget.”
I shook my head vigorously. “But he didn’t do anything. He could have, but he didn’t.”
“How do you know?” Stellon asked. “You said you couldn’t remember.”
“I don’t know how. I just know.”
“My brother is powerful and persuasive,” Stellon said in a tone of understanding. “It’s not your fault, Firebug. I don’t blame you for anything that happened, but you must trust me. I’m doing what has to be done.”
“For the good of the Kingdom?” I asked sharply. “Or for revenge— for your own sense of pride.”
“For you. You’ll never be safe as long as Pharis is around, messing with your mind. He must be convinced never to try such a thing ever again.”
He looked toward the royal torturer and raised a hand. The man moved into position behind Pharis, drawing back his whip, waiting for the King’s signal.
Desperate now, I pleaded with Stellon. “You promised me last night that you wouldn’t punish him.”
He gave me a grim look. “You asked me to promise. I made no such vow.”
What?
Oh gods. He was going to do it. He was going to kill his brother.
Because of me.
I looked around wildly for Princess Mareth, hoping for an ally. She didn’t appear to be in attendance.
She must have known what was on the schedule of entertainments for the evening and had refused to attend. Perhaps Stellon had even forbidden her from coming.
Stellon dropped his hand, and the flogger stretched his arm back then brought it forth sharply.
The sound of the whip cracked, echoing around the ballroom in loud aftershocks.
A second later, Pharis’ body jerked, and a raw, red line appeared on his back.
No. No no no no. This was all wrong.
The flogger struck Pharis again, and this time, he let out an involuntary noise, a hoarse, wordless cry that reached down my throat and grabbed my heart.
I clutched Stellon’s hand. “Please stop this. He’s your brother.”
“My brother should have known better than to betray me.”
“He saved me from hanging,” I said. “He’s been taking care of my family. I owe him my life.”
Stellon turned a glare on me. “It almost sounds as if you’re in love with him.”
“No, I…” But my denial died on my lips.
“I don’t know what I feel for him,” I admitted. “I just want you to stop this. Please. For me. As a wedding present?”
Stellon turned away and continued to watch the torture he’d ordered against his brother proceed. He didn’t look like he was enjoying it precisely, but he did nothing to stop it. No one did.
Tears streaming from my eyes, I looked around and saw horror on many of the watching faces, but apparently no one would dare to defy the King.
Pharis’ back was a bloody mess now, angry red stripes crossing over one another and seeping blood. He had sagged to his knees, so weakened by the pain he was no longer able to stand.
Again and again, the flogger drew back the whip and flung it forward, the regular cracks and resulting cries of pain making me feral with growing desperation.
And then I was on my feet.
Grabbing the skirts of my wedding gown, I lifted the hem and ran down the dais steps and across the ballroom.
When I reached the flogger, I charged right past him and put myself between the whip and Pharis, holding out a hand.
“No!” I yelled. “No more.”
But the whip was already in the air. The strike landed across my chest and extended palm.
The pain was intense, like flames licking at my skin. An involuntary scream left my mouth.
Pharis, whose head had been hanging, lifted it and turned to see me in his peripheral vision.
“No,” he groaned.
“Raewyn. Go away,” he ordered in a ragged voice. “It’s all right. I’m all right.”
“No you’re not,” I yelled. “He’s killing you.”
The flogger raised the whip once more.
Pharis yelled over his shoulder. “Stop! Don’t strike her. If you hit her again, you’re a dead man.”