Chapter 26 #3
He paused, examining his work. Blood ran down my arms, soaking into my shirt. The iron burned in the wounds, worse than regular cuts, making my Fae blood react with fire that spread under my skin.
"Let's try something else," he said, setting down the blade and picking up the brand.
It had cooled to a dull red. Still hot enough to burn, but not hot enough to kill instantly.
He pressed it against my shoulder.
The smell hit first—burning flesh, my flesh—and then the pain. White-hot and all-consuming. My body convulsed, trying to get away, but the ropes held. That horrible sound tore from my throat—harsh, strained, a broken cry that rattled in my chest.
He held the brand there for three seconds. Four. Five.
Then lifted it.
I sagged against the wall, gasping, tears and snot streaming down my face. Every breath came in broken, shaky gasps. Every heartbeat sent fresh pain radiating from the brand on my shoulder.
"Your mother fought until the very end," Tobias said, setting the brand aside. "Kept trying to reach you even when she was dying. Love makes people do irrational things. Sacrifice themselves for those who can't be saved anyway."
He selected another blade. Smaller. Sharper.
"Tomorrow, we'll continue this. I have so much more to show you. Different blades, different techniques. I've had six hundred years to perfect my craft."
The small blade cut across my side. Shallow. Precise.
"But tonight..." Another cut. "Tonight, I just wanted you to understand. This isn't personal. This is necessary. Your death serves a greater purpose."
Cut. Burn. Pain.
"You're going to help me destroy a king."
He worked for what seemed like hours but might have been minutes. Time stopped meaning anything past the pain. Cut after cut, each one measured, controlled. Never deep enough to be fatal. Never in a place that would kill quickly.
Just pain. Endless, building pain that made the world narrow to nothing but fire beneath my skin and the sound of my own choked, strangled gasps.
Finally, he stopped, setting the blade down, and stepping back to admire his work.
"That's enough for tonight. Don't want you dying before we've really begun."
He walked to the door, paused with his hand on the latch.
"The bond will heal eventually. The blood magic wears off in a day or so. Then your prince will feel you again." He smiled. "He'll feel every bit of pain I cause tomorrow. Every cut, every burn. And he'll be helpless to stop it."
He gestured around the room. "Do you know where you are? I thought about telling you, but..." He glanced up toward the ceiling. "I think you've already figured it out. This building—your childhood home. Where you learned to survive. Where someone kept you safe."
His smile turned cold.
"I've been using this basement for decades. Long before you came here. Long after you left. This place that meant safety to you?" He looked around at the bloodstains, the torture implements. "It's where dozens died screaming."
The violation of it hit me like a physical blow.
And Tobias had been here the whole time. Using it. Killing people in the basement while children slept upstairs. While I slept upstairs. While Samona told us bedtime stories, people were dying beneath our feet.
"Sleep well, Merrit Vaerin."
The door closed. The lock clicked. The bar scraped back into place. Then I was alone in the dark.
In the basement of the orphanage where Samona had taught me to be strong. Where I'd learned I wasn't broken. Where I'd heard stories about Whisperbound and thought they were fairy tales.
This isn't home, I thought fiercely. Home was upstairs. Where Samona cared for me. This basement—this place he's using—has nothing to do with what that building meant to me.
Blood ran down my arms, my side, soaking through my clothes. The brand on my shoulder throbbed with every heartbeat. The iron burns felt like they were still cutting, fire spreading under my skin.
I couldn't move. Couldn't reach the bond. Couldn't do anything but sit there and hurt.
Time passed. I didn't know how much. The candles burned lower. The pain settled into something constant, all-consuming. And then—
A flicker in the bond. So faint I thought I imagined it. Like a candle flame struggling to catch. Then stronger. Just barely. Still distant, still muffled by the blood magic, but there.
“Hold on. I'm coming.”
Kieran's voice. Desperate. Determined. Distant but real.
I tried to respond, tried to send something back through that fragile connection.
“Hurry.”
Did he hear it? I couldn't tell. The bond flickered and faded again, like the magic was fighting to keep us separated.
But he was there. He was coming.
I just had to survive until he got here.
I focused on that. On the bond, weak but present. On Kieran's voice, desperate and full of love. On the fact that I was still alive, still breathing, still capable of fighting back if I could just get free.
The ropes around my wrists were tight, but not impossible. The knots were behind me, out of reach, but the rough stone wall might work. If I could find an edge, start fraying the rope...
I shifted, pain screaming through every cut and burn, and found an outcropping in the stone behind me. Sharp enough. Maybe.
I started working the rope against it. Slowly. Carefully. Every movement sent fire through my injuries, but I kept going.
Fraying. One fiber at a time.
I'm not fucking dying here, I told myself. Told Kieran through the bond, even though I didn't know if he could hear. Not after surviving this once already.
“You're coming. I just have to hold on.”
The rope frayed. Just a little. Just enough to give me hope.
Samona had taught me to survive. To fight. To never give up, even when everything seemed hopeless.
I wasn't going to let her down.
I wasn't going to let Kieran down.
“Hold on.”