Chapter 24
Chapter
Twenty-Four
She must have fallen asleep there, curled up into a ball in Jaxon Shaw’s bed—because the next time Araya opened her eyes, Caylin Pryce was standing over her.
The human woman stared down at her, her face blotchy and her eyes red-rimmed, like she’d been crying for hours. The corners of her mouth trembled, but when she spoke her voice was venomous.
“Well this is no surprise,” she said. “Did he even change the linens between us?”
“Caylin—” Araya sat up slowly, every survival instinct she had urging her to put as much space between her and this woman as possible. “This isn’t what you think.”
“Isn’t it?” Caylin demanded.
Her hand snapped out, fast and vicious, catching Araya by the arm and yanking her forward. The blanket dropped, cold air rushing over Araya’s bare skin.
Caylin laughed.
“You can’t lie, halfblood,” she sneered. “Go ahead, say he didn’t toss me aside for you.”
Araya couldn’t.
“He doesn’t love me,” Araya said instead, the words spilling over each other in her haste to get them out. “He just wants my power. Do you think I wanted this?” Her breath hitched. “He’s not a good man, Caylin. He never was. You’re better off—”
Caylin slapped her.
Araya’s head snapped to the side, the taste of blood blooming across her tongue. Her ears rang from the force of it, her heart suddenly galloping in her chest. Her hands were still in iron. She couldn’t fight back. And running—she wouldn’t make it ten steps before Caylin was on her.
“This isn’t about love you stupid halfblood bitch.” Caylin’s chest heaved, her eyes wild. “It’s about knowing your place—” she yanked, dragging Araya off the cot and throwing her to the floor. “And you are in mine.”
Araya hit the ground hard, crying out as fresh pain blazed through her newly-healed ribs. She tried to scramble to her feet, but Caylin was already there. Araya gasped, her scalp screaming as the human woman dragged her up by her hair.
She hauled Araya through the tent flap, past the startled guards.
Bright daylight blinded Araya, the noise of the camp falling suddenly silent as Caylin dragged her down the main thoroughfare.
Her dress sagged, the torn back gaping open—but it was all Araya could do to keep up with Caylin’s brutal pace, sharp stones biting into her bare feet with every step.
“Caylin, stop,” Araya tried, biting back a cry as her ankle twisted. “Jaxon won’t like this. He’ll be angry—”
“Fuck Jaxon Shaw,” Caylin snarled, shoving her hard.
Araya went down on her hands and knees. Gravel tore into her palms, the impact jarring her healing ribs so badly her vision went white. She scrambled to pull herself up, trying to stand before Caylin could—
A boot slammed into her side, knocking her back down.
“This is your fucking place, you stupid halfblood whore,” Caylin said, her voice ringing out in the sudden silence. “And I’m going to make sure you never forget it again.”
People were staring now. Soldiers abandoned their cook fires and their work, gathering in a knot around them. Everyone recognized Jaxon Shaw’s pet fae by now, and the inquisitor responsible for the screams that echoed across camp. Surely one of them would do something—
Leather rasped against leather, the soft, sinuous swish of the lash cutting through the air.
Araya’s breath froze in her lungs, cold terror pinning her to the spot.
They’d whipped the children who tried to run at Kaldrath.
The lucky ones only got a handful of lashes, but the ones who tried more than once…
they hung what was left of them from the gates as a warning to the rest of them.
Araya doubted she could count herself among the lucky with Caylin Pryce.
“Master Pryce,” one of the soldiers said hesitantly. “Does Commander Shaw—”
“Commander Shaw is a fae-fucking brat who never had to work for a single thing in his life,” Caylin snapped. “If you want to go crying to him about what I’m doing to his precious little toy, you’d better run fast. I doubt she makes it through ten lashes.”
Leather whistled through the air, landing with a crack across Araya’s back.
Araya’s back bowed, the scream ripped from her throat raw and wordless. The wound burned—iron wire braided into the leather tearing through skin and soul alike. Araya’s hands scrabbled across the gravel, trying to drag herself away.
The whip cracked again. And again.
Araya’s arms gave out. Her face hit the ground, dust and blood flooding her mouth and choking her screams. She must have bitten her tongue—
Another lash. Another blinding ribbon of pain. It sliced her open, peeling her flesh away from her bones.
Caylin was right. This would kill her. She would never see Loren again. She didn’t even know if fae believed in an afterlife like so many humans did—
But the next blow never fell.
A shadow fell over her. Araya cried out, flinching away from the hands that grabbed her under the arms, lifting her. She gagged on the scent of vanilla and blood, emptying the contents of her stomach all over Jaxon’s shiny black boots.
“Have you lost your fucking mind?” he snarled.
Araya sagged in his grip, her legs too weak to support her body.
She couldn’t stop shaking, her teeth chattering despite the branding heat of his hands on her skin.
Shock, she realized distantly, the memory of all the years she’d spent helping at Serafina’s clinic rising hazily to the top of her mind.
She’d been through an immense physical trauma and now her body was shutting down.
“You’re the one who’s lost your mind!” Caylin’s chest heaved, the whip still clutched in her hand.
Blood—her blood—darkened the leather, dripping onto the dusty ground.
“She’s nothing Jaxon. Nothing but another halfblood whore who has made you look like a fool in front of your father and the High Commander and everyone else who matters—”
“This isn’t the place for this conversation,” Jaxon warned, glancing around at the clustered soldiers.
“Stop protecting her!” Caylin’s voice cracked, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “She picked him over you, but you still wouldn’t let me do what had to be done to draw him out! At least now he’ll come. He had to have felt every one of those lashes—”
The ground under her feet split open.
Roots as thick around as Araya’s arm burst upward, vines lashing out blindly.
They tore through canvas and splintered wood, dragging screaming soldiers to the ground.
One hacked desperately at the vine coiled around his ankle, his blade flashing as it hauled him backward—but more surged forward to take its place, wrapping around his legs, his arms, his throat. And Caylin—
The whip dropped to the ground, thudding uselessly into the dirt as Caylin lifted a shaking hand to touch the gnarled root jutting from her chest.
“Jaxon—” she choked.
“Gods,” Jaxon breathed, his grip on Araya’s arm tightening as he stared at the grisly scene. “Fuck. Alright—”
He shoved her into the arms of the nearest soldier.
“Take her back to my tent,” he ordered. “And then get the healers out here. Now.”
“Sir—” the soldier stammered. “The healers won’t come until the scene is secured—”
“Do you not see her?” He pointed at Caylin. “She’s the High Inquisitor’s daughter and there is a fucking tree through her chest.” He swore viciously, glancing between Araya and Caylin. “Just—fuck. Stay with them both. I’ll go. They won’t say no to me.”
Jaxon didn’t wait for an answer before he took off at a run. Araya struggled to find her feet, the world around her blurring as black spots danced across her vision. The camp was in chaos—smoke filling the air as soldiers raced to burn back the spreading vines.
But no one seemed to notice that the soldier gripping Araya’s arm had frozen, reluctant to get too close to the writhing vines wrapping themselves around Caylin’s body.
The human woman moaned, blood bubbling on her lips as another vine climbed her legs. “Help,” she whimpered. “Please—”
The soldier began to shake, his grip on Araya’s arm trembling. “No—” he muttered, his complexion turning the color of old ash as he watched the vines slide across the ground. “No. I don’t want to die here—”
He let go.
Araya collapsed to the ground. Boots pounded past her, soldiers shouting and tripping over each other in their haste to get away from the murderous vines spreading across the ground.
Little queen. That dark presence wrapped around her, twining through her consciousness. Have you changed your mind?
Araya closed her eyes, leaning into its comforting touch.
The vines didn’t crush her this time, instead gently brushing over her broken body.
No, she hadn’t changed her mind. But did that even matter now?
She couldn’t feel her back, her mind strangely distant from her body, but she knew it was bad. Very bad.
It matters, the forest whispered. Open your eyes, little queen.
Araya blinked, her eyes struggling to focus on the scene in front of her.
The vines hadn’t just torn open the ground.
The timber wall gaped open like shattered ribs, a dark tunnel of writhing greenery yawning open like a portal to the forest she could have sworn was closer than it had been the day they’d brought her in.
Stand up, little queen.
She shouldn’t have been able to do it. But she dragged herself to her knees, black spots dancing across her vision.
Something glinted in the dirt—a sword, dropped by a panicked soldier.
Araya’s fingers shook as they wrapped around the hilt.
It was too heavy for her to lift, but she managed to turn it in the right direction, the point of the blade digging into the ground as she used it to haul herself to her feet.
Her legs shook, but when she stumbled and would have fallen a root rose beneath her hand. She took a step. Then another. Vines parted, shifting to ease her way, but Araya couldn’t tear her eyes away from the beckoning greenery and the trees beyond.
They would never follow her in there. Just a few more steps and she’d be free—