Chapter 68 The Price of Love, Lorian
THE PRICE OF LOVE, LORIAN
"The punishment chamber is prepared," Father announces from the doorway. His face is hard. He doesn’t like this. Well, why should he? We are his sons, and he doesn’t like seeing us hurt, and it’s obvious he’s also become partial to Eve.
Eve stands and her legs tremble. There’s no doubt she’s scared of what comes next if the conjugal visit was supposed to be the pleasurable part.
I tell her, “You won’t die,” to reassure her.
She pales even more.
“Sovereign Lorian,” Dr. Veil says from behind my father with a scathing tone, making use of her change of status on planet, “you’re not helping.” Then, looking at Eve, she says, “If you need to be brought back to life, I’m the woman who will do it. I’ve brought everything with me.”
Eve almost falls to the ground then, but I catch her.
Rafe says softly, “Don’t listen to them. You’re not going to die, Eve. Lorian will do no worse than what you did to each other in the shrine at the Spire. Remember this is all for show.”
“Wouldn’t it be a show for my lovers to kill me?” she asks, and none of us has an answer because she’s not wrong.
"The prisoner will walk unassisted," Jin Kol commands. "Maintaining proper form."
I steady Eve as best as I can with Rafe, but neither of us lets go of her until we are sure she’s not going to fall again.
The walk to the punishment chamber is the longest of my life. Each step feels like walking to my own execution, even though, only my heart will be hurt.
Rafe and I used to be punished here, and walking in now brings back some of the memories, but it was never like this. Our punishments were always deserved.
It’s just as I remember it—all white, lit with bright lights.
In the center of the room, there is a padded bench just waiting for someone to be strapped down and scream for their life on top of it.
On the side table, an array of IGC corrective instruments waits to be picked as a device for legal pain.
I swallow hard. I wish I had brought my own whip, but I didn’t even think about it. Now I can’t even give Eve the comfort of a familiar pain.
"The prisoner will assume the punishment position," Jin Kol says after he’s taken a seat in the viewing section.
Eve moves with a slight tremor to the bench with the poise of someone who doesn’t regret her crime, and I’m proud of her.
"The contract specifies the owners must administer the correction personally," Jin Kol reminds us. "To reinforce the bond of authority."
"We know," Rafe answers sharply.
Jin Kol scrolls through his tablet with obvious pleasure, then reads out the punishment.
"The subject has accumulated eighteen infractions since her trial.
May I remind you that these infractions are your fault.
You are her owners." The words slice through me.
"Emotional outbursts on six occasions. Food refusal for three consecutive days.
Failure to maintain proper positions during Commander Gai's gatherings—I have video documentation of her breaking third position during the Ambassador's visit.
Then, there are the comments you made to me, Lorian.
And now, insufficient vocalization during conjugal activities.
" He pauses and gives a fake sigh. "That's twenty-four infractions.
The standard correction is two strikes per infraction.
However, given the subject's overall compliance trajectory, I'm authorized to increase it to three. " And then the bastard smiles.
Seventy-two strikes.
Goddesses. She really might die.
"Which one of you will administer your prisoner’s punishment? Or will you split it between the two of you?”
"I will do it all,” I say.
“No surprise there. Choose your method, Sovereign Lorian.”
The table waits for me—seven implements laid out like offerings before the goddesses. Each whip promises something different, a philosophy of control encoded into design—and all of them are wrong for her.
The Fine-Haired Neural Lash draws my eye first. It’s a masterpiece of restraint—every strike a conversation between pain and pleasure — but I feel like if I choose this one, it will turn out to be a trap set by Jin Kol.
Beside it, the Plasma Coil hums faintly, its energy trapped inside transparent tubing that glows from dark green to white. It leaves marks that fade after a few hours but vivid memories of the punishment that will last forever.
No, if I can avoid that one, I will.
Then I see the Reima Two Devotional Flogger.
Black leather, soft at first glance, but threaded with metallic veins that vibrate faintly when I touch them.
It’s used for atonement. It is the least wrong choice available.
I pick it up without hesitation and swing it through the air to get a feel for it.
Then I look at Eve, naked and trembling before me.
Goddesses, give me strength.
“Eve,” she flinches when I speak her name, “I will begin now.”
I take a deep breath and hold the whip in position, but I can’t do it. Not yet. I get to my knees and kneel beside her. I need to touch her. I need one moment of connection before I become her tormentor. "I'm so sorry, my corrupt angel. Count them in your head. It helps."
“More lashes will be added if you do not commence, Sovereign Lorian,” Jin Kol says.
The rage is back, burning beneath my skin as I stand, and take position behind her. I raise my hand, and as if the goddesses have taken over, the first strike lands. I try to pull the blow as much as I can while still making it look convincing.
Eve doesn't make a sound, but I feel her pain spread violently across her back like it's my own.
"Harder," Jin Kol barks. "That one doesn't count."
My hand shakes as I raise the whip again; I'm breaking inside, but I force myself to begin in earnest, and my heart cries with every sound of the whip ripping through her delicate skin.
When I feel myself losing control, I look at my brother.
Rafe stands exactly where he said he would. One step back from the circle. Hands folded behind him. Spine straight. Face unreadable. He does not flinch or look away. He is my anchor, just as he said he would be.
I draw the whip back again. The sound cuts through the air. Flesh yields, and Eve’s breath breaks along with another piece of my soul.
I am a monster.
I meet Rafe’s eyes again. He’s not judging me. He’s holding the line. He’s reminding me of why we are here and why Eve’s not already dead on a mining moon.
As terrible as this is. I am the monster, and this is my duty.
I strike Eve again and hear her muffled cry. She’s so strong not screaming at the top of her lungs as the pain must be unbearable, but clearly her hatred for Jin Kol is stronger.
I raise the whip again and try to steady my hand. The ritual requires precision. Not rage towards the IGC. Nor indulgence, I can’t let myself forget that we are not in the shrine. I can’t let this become something ugly.
Rafe’s eyes hold mine.
Yes, guide my hand, Brother.
Keep me in check for our Eve.
My hand lowers, and the whip hits her again, and her body reacts the way it always does, opening her up, stripping her down to only breath, muscle, and instinct.
And it’s all so familiar. I know this part of her too well.
My hand grips the whip again, and I strike twice, almost falling into a pattern.
Almost forgetting myself. I stop. I breathe.
This is not the shrine.
I meet Rafe’s eyes, and he balances me. He reminds me of where I am and what I am doing. This is not the shrine. Another strike. Eve’s whole body convulses, and some of her blood splashes on my face. I flinch, wiping it away as if the act itself has crossed a line.
Goddesses, I can’t.
I almost drop the whip.
Rafe makes a movement, so slight, but I notice.
His head is inclined ever so slightly. We hold eye contact.
It’s me looking back on myself. I can do this, and I will not go too far.
I will be as precise as my brother is willing me to be now.
That’s what his eyes say to me, don’t go too far. Keep it precise, Lorian.
I grip the whip and strike again.
Eve is staring at the floor and moving her lips silently. I don’t know if she’s praying to her god or counting. But I don’t stop in my duty.
The numbers blur, but I force myself to keep counting because stopping would be worse.
Halfway there. The muscles in my arm burn with effort, and sweat trickles down my back just as the blood is dripping down her body.
She’s hardly made a sound, and I stop suddenly, wondering if I, Lorian the monster, have killed her. I wait, looking for her intake of breath. Then I see it and continue. I am a monster.
Forty-one. Forty-two.
Breathing is becoming difficult for me. I wonder if it’s possible to die from the shame of having to do this. What was once my pleasure, hidden and chosen, is now my humiliation put on display.
Rafe stands still, watching every bloody second of this. I wish for a second that I was the one standing clean watching rather than the one bloody with her blood, holding the whip. But I know as well as he does, we couldn’t switch roles.
Sixty-eight. Sixty-nine. Seventy.
"Two more," Jin Kol says, his voice full of satisfaction. "Make them count."
I want to throw the whip away, or start beating Jin Kol until he dies, but I can’t do either. I must finish this.
The final strikes land on skin already marked red and bloody
"Seventy-two," Jin Kol announces. "Aftercare protocol requires a maintained position for thirty minutes post-correction. To properly internalize the lesson."
Rafe makes eye contact with me and gives me a nod.
Eve doesn’t move. Her small body is trembling uncontrollably.
I want to go to her, but Jin Kol says, “You will not touch her for thirty minutes.” And it takes all my strength to stay away from her. But I don’t take my eyes off of her, as if just by watching her, I am willing her to live.
Thirty minutes feels like years.
Jin Kol reviews his notes, occasionally asking Commander Gai questions about Eve's daily behavior.
I have to listen as they casually discuss her as if she's an animal. I have never felt so angry. I bite the inside of my cheek so strongly that my own blood fills my mouth, but I must do it to keep myself from doing something stupid.
Finally, Jin Kol nods. “Thirty minutes has passed. The review is complete. Owners may provide aftercare as specified in Section Twelve. I'll be in the library reviewing my notes."
He leaves and our father follows, murmuring something about dinner preparations.
The moment the door closes, Rafe lifts Eve carefully while I call in Dr. Veil.
“What barbarians you all are,” she admonishes us. “Move away from her so I can heal these wounds.”
"I survived,” Eve says almost proudly, and it breaks my heart.
“I’m sorry.” My hands shake as I hold her upright as Dr. Veil applies a fast-healing gel to her back.
"But I survived. And I'll survive the next one. And the next one after that." She catches my hand. "I need you to be okay with that. This is our normal now."
“No,” Rafe says strongly. “This is not our new normal. You endured, Eve, because you’re braver than any of us.
This was all a test, a performance, and we have given it to the galaxy and you, the star.
But the galaxy has yet to see what the true cost of it was, and what you will demand, my beautiful little rebel. ”
I know Eve is too tired to take in the entire meaning of Rafe’s words, but I understand. He is going to make the IGC pay for this for the rest of his life.
I already felt that kind of rage, but for him, it took him witnessing this monstrosity to understand how angry he really is, and the lengths he will now go to until he feels justice has been served.
People always assume that I am the more dangerous of the two of us, but it’s actually Rafe, and it always has been.
“It was a crossing,” I say to acknowledge his statement, and he nods.
“Goddesses, help us,” Dr. Veil says, also understanding.
As I watch Dr. Veil continue to heal Eve’s wounds, I think about what my mother would say if she could see us now. In the Empire, they teach us that women temper men's violence. But what happens when the violence is mandated by law?
We have one year to change her sentence, I think as I take Eve’s small hand in mine. One year to stop this madness. And if we can’t, I will burn down the galaxy before I ever do this again.
“This is not our new normal,” I say quietly to Eve as a promise.