12. Chapter 11
Chapter 11
“ H ush now, you’ll wake her!”
“I am hushed!”
I drifted awake, feeling as though I floated through the clouds. Everything ached, but I was so warm and comfortable that I couldn’t make myself move.
“She doesn’t look much like I expected.”
“What did you expect? I thought she was a corpse. Help me with these ashes.”
“Ma says she really is the Lost Princess, and she would be better than–”
“Bite your tongue!” the harsh whisper cut off the other girl. “If anyone hears you say such a thing, you’ll be food for the pigs!”
“I’m only saying what Ma said.”
“Well, she’s a fool. Look at her, she couldn’t take the regent if she had an army behind her. She’s just a helpless–”
“Actually,” I moaned, eliciting two quick gasps, “I am quite capable of taking care of myself.”
I chased my words with a contented yawn and stretched beneath the blankets. The pleasure ended abruptly when my muscles spasmed and cramped. I yelped, curling in on myself as I rubbed my thighs.
“Your Highness! Should I send for the healer?” A girl’s panicked voice called from across the room.
I opened my eyes and squinted against the weak light that filtered through the heavy curtains. Two girls stood by the fire, buckets of ash and piles of wood at their feet.
With a grim smile, I tucked the blanket to my chin. “No. I’ve suffered worse, unfortunately. ”
I surveyed the room anew, absorbing its beauty. Warm golds and inviting greens adorned every surface, complemented by potted plants scattered throughout. A grin crept across my face, appreciating the effort to infuse verdant life into the frigid castle. The plants must have been moved overnight or early this morning. They couldn’t have survived in a vacant, fireless space.
Heavy curtains, the color of dark ivy, draped over a giant window. The glass must have shielded against the cold, as I would have felt a chill if it were just a hide. As I observed, a slip of a girl in a plain brown apron dress scampered over, quick and nimble.
“Would you like me to open the curtains?” she asked.
Despite the wear, her clothes were cared for. Her brown hair was plaited and piled atop her head, keeping it out of her way. She offered a shy smile, awaiting instructions.
“Yes, please,” I said, offering a small nod.
She drew the curtains aside, and I clamped my eyes shut. Rich, bright sunlight flooded in, nearly blinding me as it reflected off the fresh snowfall.
“Gods, does this window face north?” I asked, wincing at the intense morning light. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be greeted by a blinding northern sunrise each day.
“Nay, Your Highness, it faces east, toward the Great Iceland.”
Comforting. My room faced the land of giant ice bears and snow wolves.
“Wait,” I shot upright, cursing myself as my head pounded in response to the sudden move, “what time is it?!”
“Almost high noon, Your High–”
“Quick! Where are my clothes?!”
I leapt from the bed as if it were on fire. The servant near the hearth ran from the bedroom, and the girl at the window stood with her mouth open in shock.
“I swear by the gods, if you don’t tell me where my clothes are I will storm out of here wearing this!” I said, plucking at the heavy sleeping gown.
To be fair, it was far thicker and modest than what I normally wore, but it seemed to strike a sense of urgency.
“Here!” the other called.
I raced into the receiving space, through another doorway, then skidded to a halt.
Racks displayed an array of dresses, boots, belts, hats, cloaks, and scarves in every imaginable shade, along with colors I had never seen. A large silver mirror, rather than brass, leaned against the far wall. Padded chairs encircled a platform raised at the center.
“I will help you dress, Your–”
“It doesn’t matter! Grab the fastest thing I can get into!” I growled, pulling the nightgown off, my muscles screaming in agony .
“What color–”
“I don’t care!” I shrieked, throwing the gown to the floor.
My frantic gaze scanned the space, and the girl rushed over with a light blue dress. It was long, but would stop at my ankles, perfect for running—just as I intended. I snatched it, then jerked it over my head. The material was soft, a tanned hide of some kind, with fur inlays.
As I adjusted it, I accepted a black belt adorned with shining blue beads. I looped it on, not for fashion, but practicality. Women girded their loins this way, and if I needed to hike up the skirt, I could.
“Boots!” I spun, facing the ridiculous amount lining the far wall. “Make haste!”
She fetched a pair made of soft doeskin lined with thick white fur. I grabbed them and collapsed into a chair, struggling to pull them on. They likely used my old, ill-fitting ones as a size reference.
“Cloak!”
“For inside the castle or–”
“Outside!” I cried, shoving my foot into the second boot.
I ran over as she pulled a heavy blue garment off the stand. She held it open as I slipped my arms inside, letting her fasten it around my neck.
“I need you to take me wherever they flog soldiers.”
Her eyes widened in horror, and her fingers fumbled on the clasp. “Your Highness, it’s not… I wouldn’t–”
“I’m not asking,” I said, giving her my sternest glare. If acting like a princess got me what I wanted, I would act like a pissing princess.
“It’s just—you see, we’re not allowed–”
With a heated curse, I stormed past her and ran for the door to my rooms. I flung it open, heaving the heavy wood with all my might.
Anderz stood with his fist raised to knock on the door that was no longer there.
“Take me to the flogging stake,” I demanded.
He lowered his hand, watching me with guarded eyes. “Princess,” he started, his tone careful.
I interrupted him with a curse and stormed past. He caught my arm and pulled me to a stop with a strength beyond his years. I spun to face him, baring my teeth in rage, a slur of curses burning the tip of my tongue.
“I will take you,” he said, “but I ask that you remember who you are.” His warm features were full of meaning as he held my angry gaze.
“I know who I am, Counselor, ” I spat. “You would do well to remember who you are.”
Panic clawed at my throat, and I let it fuel my rage. I directed most of it at myself for oversleeping, but I would take it out on anyone who got in my way .
“Come along.”
Anderz was a portrait of calm as he placed my hand on the crook of his arm. He led me down the hall in a subtle manner, as if he weren’t hauling me with him. I tightened my grip, keeping pace. All the while cursing this man for his perfect decorum, his stupid strength and speed despite his age.
“I participate in physical activity daily,” he said in response to my muttered curses, nodding at a guard as we turned down a corridor. “Keeps the mind sharp and the body limber.”
My lip curled in a scowl. “If you don’t bring me to Sainte–”
“I’m taking you where you asked to go, my petulant princess, though I do not believe you truly want to go there.”
“I won’t let him be–”
“Oh, but he already has, dear. You slept through most of it.”
I snarled like a wild animal, tearing my hand from his grasp. He stood, unperturbed, as I retreated, breaths ragged. If only I had a weapon—a blade, a vase—anything to break this man’s perfectly calm serenity.
“He is doing his duty, and you would be wise to let him.”
“He’s being flogged for bringing me, your thrice-cursed Lost Princess, back to you! Shouldn’t you be throwing a feast in his honor? Celebrating his finding me?!” I shrieked, past caring who heard me.
“He has failed to do his job.” Anderz stepped up to me and bravely took my hand, placing it on his arm. “He is protecting you. Let him do that.”
“How? How is this protecting me?!”
“He is suffering the prince regent’s wrath. It will buy you time, though if you put yourself in the prince’s sights, it will be in vain.”
“Is he still being flogged?” I asked, cursing myself that my voice cracked with the question.
“The regent… he likes to draw it out. As he chose to see to the flogging personally, yes, I imagine he is.”
“Then take me to him.”
“As you wish.”
I wasn’t so foolish to miss the note of resignation in his words, as if he was appeasing a child. We hurried through the corridors and down the stone staircases. Anderz nodded and greeted everyone we passed without halting, as if sensing somehow that stopping would trigger my flight.
Mentally, I chastised myself for my stupidity. Sainte had ridden just as hard and eaten less, yet there I was sleeping the day away while he suffered my brother’s wrath. I was a princess, for gods’ sake. My jaw clenched as I recalled the mass of scars on his back. This time, I could protect him, at least.
“Elspeth, do not forget yourself,” Anderz whispered as we turned a corner and headed into the crisp sunshine .
My heart dropped, and my blood ran as cold as the dusting of fresh-fallen snow. A hundred yards out, a tall, thick pole jutted from the ground with a chain threaded through a hole. Shackles clung to the chain, encircling Sainte’s wrists. A small crowd lounged on wooden benches, chatting and chuckling over steaming mugs. They were bundled against the elements, a sharp contrast to the bare-chested man shivering against the pole.
My gaze fell to the vivid red splatters staining the snow, remnants of the whip tearing flesh. Nausea surged as I lifted my eyes to Sainte’s back, where a piece of skin the size of my finger dangled.
“Curse you!” I spat, wrenching my hand from Anderz.
The crowd fell silent, faces turning toward me, expressions filled with intrigue. Adastrus swung the short whip like a pendulum, keeping his back to me. He stood there, having shed his cloak, donned in an embroidered dark tunic and tight-fitting trousers. Black boots hugged his legs, ending at his thighs. He turned, watching me from the corner of his eye with a smile. A sick slash of joy marred his handsome face.
“Curse you all!” I called out louder, stepping away from Anderz.
Sainte leaned his head against the stake, panting. He made no move to look at me, even if he could have managed the movement. My brother stood still, swinging the black whip with its many tails, back and forth, sending fresh droplets of crimson to stain the white snow.
“I am Princess Elspeth, lost to the Kingdom of Wynterborne.”
I halted within the half-circle of onlookers, their eyes trained on me, a few stealing glances at my brother. Panic raced through my chest, screaming for me to act.
“You should rejoice at my return,” I demanded, voice tinged with bitterness. “Your Lost Princess has returned. The gods chose Captain Nytestorm to bring me back, and this is how you repay him? This is how you repay the gods?” Disgust curled my lip. I could play on their fear of divine retribution. If they were religious, they would feel the sting of that accusation.
“Gods, dear sister?”
Dread hit me like a stone in my gut.
Adastrus turned, the motion slow and meticulous. His hair, damp with sweat, clung to his forehead. Madness glittered in the depths of his green eyes, and I stifled a shudder. I was a princess. I could do this. We were equals.
“The throne and gods dictate the laws,” he murmured, as if enlightening a child. “Have you been removed so long that you’ve forgotten the punishment for a soldier’s falsehoods?”
“Falsehoods? He never lied,” I said, proud that my voice remained steady .
Adastrus didn’t even blink, but held my glare with an unnerving ease. “Oh, but he did. A recruiter makes a vow of thirty recruits a year, in exchange for a full belly and roof overhead.”
He dropped his gaze and gave an innocent shrug, swinging the whip and splattering blood on my boots. I shook with caged rage, and clenched my jaw so tightly it popped.
“See, I’ve kept my vow. I fed him, sheltered him, paid him handsomely… and do you know how he repaid me—?”
By bringing your challenger to you.
“—With not a single soldier.”
“I am worth thirty recruits,” I shot back. “Am I not?”
Murmurs rippled through the crowd, accompanied by subtle headshakes and shrugs.
“Some might contest that notion.” Adastrus laughed darkly. “Regardless, a vow remains binding, does it not, dear sister? A ruler should exemplify honesty, setting a standard not just for themselves but for their subjects. Or do you envision a realm built on deceit?”
I took a calming breath, steadying myself. He was pinning me in a corner. I had to be smarter than this. “He believed bringing me here was the honest thing to do, rather than waste time gathering men.”
Adastrus sighed, a tinge of sadness in the sound. “He will be held to his vow. A man’s worth is measured by his word. If that fails…”
I drew a sharp breath, my heart pounding as he inched closer. His unblinking green eyes bore a disturbing fascination as he loosened a dagger from his belt. I recoiled, jerking back from him.
Sinister laughter rippled through the crowd and my brother shook his head, yet his gaze betrayed a deadly intent. He would kill me if given the chance.
“If his words fail,” he added, “so should his heart. A liar does no one good.”
No, no, no. He would not kill Sainte.
“I offer my pardon,” I said, lifting my chin.
His face changed from malice to confusion so quickly that I second-guessed myself. I cast a quick questioning glance at Anderz, but he watched on with his hands tucked in his robes, as silent and calm as ever.
“You pardon him?”
I cleared my throat and returned my attention to my brother. “Aye.”
He threw his head back, roaring his laughter. His body shook with the force of his vile mirth, and the crowd echoed it.
At that moment, I would have killed them all if I could.
A flush of anger heated my cheeks despite the chilled breeze, and my lips pressed tight. As a princess, surely I could grant pardons .
“Ah, my sweet, na?ve sister—”
I flinched as his arm draped over my shoulders, pulling me close.
“—you cannot pardon anyone. Only the regent holds that authority.”
I shivered in disgust as his hot breath brushed my cheek.
“I’ll teach you a lesson, little sister.” His tone sweetened with false comfort, as though he were a caring brother ready to offer genuine guidance.
I doubted that completely.
“Serve him his last five,” he commanded, thrusting the short whip against my ribs.
Blood smeared my dress, and my ribs smarted.
“It would have ended, if not for you,” he hissed, pressing his lips against my ear. “Thank you for that.”
Revulsion surged through me as I shrugged him off, hurling the weapon to the ground with a thud. I stood a few paces away, panting in my rage. His grin only fueled my anger, his demeanor akin to a brother teasing his sister.
“Then I’ll deliver his true punishment,” he said, shrugging a shoulder. With a swift motion, he tossed the dagger into the air, flipping it skillfully to secure a better grip.
“No!”
“Crimes deserve discipline. You’ll have to learn this sooner or later.”
Terror seized me as he strode over to Sainte, gripping his hair, wrenching his head back—then braced his blade against his throat.
“Mercy!” I cried out. “A true king would know when to show mercy!”
Adastrus froze, his gaze fixed on the dagger pressing against Sainte’s neck. “A true king?”
Sainte swallowed, the knot in his throat moving with the action. His eyes remained shut, a sense of resignation. I despised that look, the acceptance of his demise. Why wasn’t Anderz intervening? Why wasn’t anyone stepping in to support my plea?
Angry, helpless tears welled, burning with frustration. I had no weapon. My only tool was my voice. Sainte’s life hung by the thread of my words.
Adastrus shifted, his damp hair falling across his face. “You would recognize me as true king? After you challenged me?” His tone carried a dangerous, quiet edge.
I had to tread carefully. One misstep and Sainte would be lost to me forever. “I would have you mentor me,” I replied, my hands clenched into tight fists at my sides. “Teach me to rule as a king would their heir.”
His green eyes gleamed with fatal intensity.
I waited in tense silence, my breath held as I realized I had no more words left. There were no other pleas to make, no arguments that could sway him or the crowd.
“Of course, sister. ”
As he released Sainte’s hair, he allowed the dagger to trace a gentle path along his throat. A choked cry escaped me as Sainte gasped, his head dropping forward to the ground. His back heaved as he struggled to breathe.
With indifference, Adastrus approached me, sheathing his blade without bothering to wipe the blood off. He picked up the whip as he passed by.
“Come.”
No.
Yet, my feet moved as if I were a puppet, bringing myself closer. Bile rose in my throat, burning as it came.
“Hold it like so.”
He snaked behind me, his grip firm as he pressed my back against his chest. Terror and horror flooded my senses. I sent a desperate glance at Anderz, a silent plea for his intervention to end this nightmare. Adastrus placed the weapon in my hand, enclosing my fingers around it.
“Watch.”
Silence enveloped the crowd as my brother urged my head forward, compelling me to witness the horror of Sainte’s mutilated back.
“Like this.”
In a blur, the whip descended, and I gasped as it struck. I struggled to break free from his grip, but his hold remained unyielding. His frame was solid and unforgiving against mine, towering and overpowering in contrast to my smaller form.
“Again.”
He wasn’t laughing.
He didn’t jest or act malicious.
The whip raised, and Adastrus moved me, bringing it down on Sainte’s back, spraying the red snow with fresh blood.
“No…” I pleaded, tears stinging my eyes.
I racked my mind for an escape. This was a nightmare. I had to wake up.
Wake up. Wake up!
“Only three more.” My brother’s voice was calm and reassuring as he guided my hand to raise the whip once more.
“No!” I choked as it came down.
Sainte collapsed forward against the stake, his silence broken only by the ragged movement of his back as he struggled for air. Crimson formed rivulets from his wounds. He wouldn’t survive such massive blood loss. The realization hit me hard—I was still going to lose him.
“Two more, little sister.”
It felt surreal, like an out-of-body experience, as my brother guided my hand once more. I sensed the flex of his chest against my back, the arc of his arm as the whip descended. Blood sprayed across my face and dress .
“One more, then it is all over,” he murmured, his tone deceptively sweet and calm.
I flinched as if his words were venomous whispers in my ear. The weapon cracked down, rippling loose the skin that dangled from Sainte’s back. Adastrus released me, and I crashed to the blood-soaked snow, retching as the full horror of the moment washed over me.
Through a haze of tears, I gazed up at my brother, who retreated, each step slow and deliberate. His expression was devoid of emotion as he walked, the whip in his hand swinging with each step he took. Blood dripped from the strands, splattering the snow.
It was then that I fully grasped what I was up against.
A monster.