Chapter 24 Thayla #2
“I’m sorry, Thay. This is too much. We got whisked through not one, but two starshoots by a Beginning God with no say-so. One of us is going to end up dead if we don’t separate ourselves from this.”
His words spear through my heart, and I stumble back. The thought of losing any of them has grief pushing on my shoulders so hard, I swear my bare feet sink into the ground.
Gods, I did this. I put them in the middle of the shit show that is my life.
I started collecting friends like trinkets.
Given the severity of our situation, I never should’ve let them get close to me.
I should’ve pushed Lambrit away. Kept Yemi at arm’s length.
“I’m sorry,” I breathe.
My gaze moves to Yemi’s sniffle, and her small nod hits me in the gut like a sucker punch.
“Don’t be. Just go.”
I turn from them and blink away the tears as fast as I can before they fall. Heat rushes through my body as I force my feet to work.
Move. Go. Don’t stop.
I don’t even know where I’m running, but I run.
The farther I go, it becomes impossible to hold in the sob that wrenches its way through my chest.
What the fuck is happening?
My hands grip my knees as I bend over and scream into nothing. I let it bellow out for as long as my lungs will allow it.
A weight with the force of the stars behind it crashes into the side of me and my head ricochets off the ground. My eyes cross and a low groan leaks from my lips as the light-headedness overwhelms me.
I swear my mind weighs no more than a feather while my body resembles a boulder spinning through nothingness.
Everything throbs.
My arms struggle to hold me up as I roll over to my knees and try to get my bearings.
My physical strength isn’t the only kind waning.
I want to give up. I want to go home.
Where is home?
A foot collides against my ribs with unforgiving intensity. What little air I had in my lungs turns to stone and my body crashes back into the ground in the shape of a star. I squint my eyes against the bright, rising sun.
Every deep inhale hurts.
Every exhale feels like I’m one step closer to suffocating.
The dirt on the back of my neck clings to my sweat and the gritty, itchy texture rubs relentlessly against my skin.
“Fucking pathetic. Get up and do it again.”
I’m snatched up and a wooden sword is shoved into my chest so hard, I stumble back. My double vision crawls into one and my gaze roams across the people surrounding me.
“Yeah. Eight against one and I’m the pathetic one.”
“Weapons ready,” a breath passes as the command echoes against the four clay walls. “Attack!”
Seen and unseen strikes land against my body and there’s nothing I can do but give it my all.
Swing out with everything I got. Block where I can.
Let the unrelenting grunts that form from either pain or perseverance rip out of my mouth.
My sword clashes with another. Neither survives the collision. The rest of the useless, splintered wood gets tossed away.
I ready my fists and so does Kuthro.
His biggest mistake, though, was hesitating.
I don’t hesitate. I can’t.
It’s a risk that will leave me lying in a bloody heap at the mercy of the men around me.
My fist soars through the distance separating us faster than lightning. The hit lands with a deafening crack against an opponent that wasn’t standing there less than a second ago.
The arena falls deadly silent as I stumble back, shaking my hand and my head. Denial and dread spear through my chest.
“I…why did you step in front of him?”
My hands latch on to the ones that snatch me back by my hair. A shriek colored in curses thunders out of me as my scalp screams for relief.
“What the fuck were you thinking, Thayla?”
Mellcom’s bellow makes my teeth rattle together and my glare narrows to match his.
“I was thinking you pitted eight of these fuckers against me and I was protecting myself.”
“There was nothing and no one to protect yourself from. The match was over and you targeted Jeremiah for no gods damn reason.”
“I didn’t target that piece of fucking shit.”
I thrash against his hold, but he grips me tighter and snatches me closer to his side.
“She’s gone too far this time, Mellcom.” Jeremiah wipes the blood from his lip, sneering at it, then at me. “These tantrums need to end. Now. You can do something about it or I will.”
“Oh fuck off, Jer—”
“You’re right.”
Ice slithers through my veins.
I freeze in Mellcom’s hold, although it’s pointless. He drags me to the post that once upon a time, the two of us would hit with our wooden sticks his father gave us to practice with.
I’ll never forget the smile on his face when his dad upgraded me to a sword.
He allows my head to tilt far enough back that I can look at him.
“Mellcom.”
“Something has to get through to you.”
How can his eyes hold so much hate and love?
“Something got through to me when you swore you’d never do this to me again.”
“Obviously not, Thay. I thought punishing you privately would keep you from acting out publicly. I was wrong. You keep proving me wrong and I don’t understand why. After everything I’ve done for you. Are you doing this to embarrass me?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer.
I’m not trying to embarrass him.
I never do.
I’m grateful for everything he’s given me.
I twist away, fighting his grip as he attempts to push me to my knees. More hands clamp onto my arms. Someone kicks the backs of my legs and I hit the dirt hard. Dust plumes around me, stinging my eyes, but I force them open.
There’s no point struggling. There are too many hands.
They pin me easily as he fastens the chains to the post, then to my wrists.
Rage and heartbreak fight for space inside my chest.
How can he do this to me? Again?
The first time, he’d lured me out here alone in the dead of night. I had no suspicions of what he had planned and followed beside him willingly.
Na?vely.
I knew he’d protect me.
He blindfolded me. Told me to rely on my senses.
He chained me to the post, ignoring every question as they grew more frantic.
He said it was to cleanse the stain I’d put on our training group in the eyes of the gods.
Retribution for my “mockery.”
Maybe my mouth had ruined things.
Maybe I deserved—
His voice rips through my thoughts.
“Thayla.”
He kneels before me and tilts my chin up. A single tear escapes, and he wipes it away like he always has.
Gentle, careful, like he’s the one hurting for me.
Like he wishes more than anything I hadn’t spoken out about the gods on the Veiling Day.
“How many lashes do you believe you deserve?”
“None.”
“You let your anger get the best of you. If you’d taken a single breath, you would’ve realized everyone had backed off. Instead, you threw a punch.”
The disappointment in his tone sinks into me like poison.
Yeah…maybe I panicked.
But a punch shouldn’t warrant this.
“Mellcom,” I whisper.
“How many, Thay?”
My throat tightens. Salt floods my tongue.
“Three.”
He nods.
“I agree. Three will be enough. After this, I’ll take you home and put that healing ointment you made on your back. Okay?”
My lip trembles. I scrub my tears off on my shoulders.
“Okay.”
He stands, leaving me facing the post alone.
Don’t count the seconds. Don’t listen.
Don’t scream. Don’t cry. Don’t make a sound.
Pain explodes across my back, slamming me into the wood. The scream rips out of me before I can swallow it down.
Laughter follows.
Two more lashes.
Everything shifts. The ground. The air.
Then he’s kneeling in front of me again, green eyes bright, voice soft and disappointed.
“I give you chance after chance, every day. I defend you, protect you when they take things too far. Yet, you insist on using our relationship against me as soon as we step in here. You test me around them and think that I can just allow you to keep getting away with it.”
“W-what?”
“How many do you believe you deserve?”
“No, Mellcom. You just—”
“How many?”
I choke down a sob.
“Three.”
He grits his teeth.
“Not good enough this time, Thay.”
“F-four.”
My whimper morphs into a scream as he disappears from in front of me and the lashes land without a moment’s notice.
Hot liquid streams down my back and every flinch I make causes my skin to scream out in agony.
“No, no, no, no.”
“Why do you keep leaving me no choice but to resort to this, Thayla? Look at me—do you think I enjoy this?”
“Why does this keep happening?”
“Because you won’t give up. You never just give up.”
“I can’t.”
“You can, but you won’t. How many do you believe you deserve?”
“Please stop.”
“How many?” His whisper flutters across my cheek like a soft breeze on a scorching day
“Five!”
My scream has drool and tears pouring down my chin. My body tenses as I wait for the sound.
Crack.
I jolt before the pain registers. The realm tilts, and my vision doubles, then triples. My stomach lurches. No time passes. No breath. No pause.
Another crack.
Another white-hot strip of agony splits open skin that was already screaming.
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. My voice was burned away somewhere between the third and the fourth lash.
I can’t breathe. I can’t think.
He’s suddenly in front of me again—no footsteps, no time, just there, kneeling. His fingers are gentle under my chin like he’s comforting a frightened child.
Me. I used to be that frightened child. He was always there.
“Thayla,” he murmurs, and that soft, patronizing tone wraps around my heart. “You see now? This is why I have to do it. You never learn unless it hurts.”
My pulse thunders in my ears.
“W-what’s happening?” I breathe.
His expression sharpens. “Don’t start. Don’t twist this on me. You know exactly what you did.”
“I didn’t—I don’t.”
“Thay.” His thumb wipes another tear from my cheek. “How many do you believe you deserve?”
“No.” My voice breaks. “You already—”
“How many?”
No warmth now. Just cold command.
“I…I don’t…”
“Seven,” he answers for me when I don’t respond fast enough. “Because defiance stacks, Thayla. It always stacks.”
He steps away.
I don’t get to brace.
I don’t get to breathe.
Crack.