Chapter 35
Three whips lashed into my spine, greedily biting into my skin through the fabric of my Disciple gown.
“One,” Scourger Lilithine counted.
I didn’t budge. I planted my feet, chin still lifted high. It stung, but I would stand my ground. Another lash landed.
“Two.”
Then another.
“Three.”
Lilithine counted as the Scourgers landed blow for blow. I made it through the first ten lashes without a reaction. They stung, they hurt, but I took them with my head lifted high.
Starfire churned through my body, rushing to my back, stitching together any torn piece of skin as the Dragontails ripped through the fabric of my gown. My cheeks flushed at the exposure of skin. Even then, I stood tall.
“Seventeen.”
“Twenty-one.”
“Twenty-five,” Lilithine hissed, as the three whips sank into my skin.
I stumbled. Blood began dripping down my spine, coating my skin. I sensed the trickles as they curled down my curves beneath my gown, dripped down my calves, until they began to drip, drip, drip to the marbled floor.
I pulled on my starfire. I couldn’t let those cursed inscriptions show. Not here. Not under the watch of Kaelthos. He’d have me skinned if he knew what Quazar wore permanently on his skin, also lived beneath mine. If I didn’t shed too much blood, I could still keep them from surfacing.
Burn, but never bleed.
I tugged on the material of my gown at the sleeves, dragging them long over my hands.
I straightened as another blow landed. I thought of Manmi and Papi. Of Ezekiel, Jael, Hosea, Uriah, Gabriel, and Evanae. My family. My hearts. My life.
I thought about all our times spent in our backyard grilling food, dancing barefoot to upbeat music, and jumping into our pool for a long twinight swim. We had so much love. So much joy. I lost myself in old memories as the lashing continued.
“Thirty-two.”
The three whips savagely struck my spine. Dragèth scales ripped across my torn skin. Talons sunk into my flesh and tore me open further. The whips remained in my spine for a moment, as if wedged too deep to be removed.
Then the Scourgers yanked. Hard.
A raw, guttural sound ripped from my throat. I howled, stumbling under the weight of agonizing pain. Shadows exploded above as Quazar viciously snarled, pounding his fist into our desk.
“SAFAH.” The wail tore from Ellabeth as she shot out of her seat.
My body convulsed, fighting shock. My hearts thumped in my chest as blood gushed out from my spine, pooling onto the floor.
I struggled to see straight as my mind began going blank.
There was a growing fire curling through my blood, licking my bones, that cackled with glee as it began consuming me from the inside out.
I battled to keep my feet as the Scourgers didn’t pause. Another lash cracked against my torn open spine.
“Thirty-five.”
Blood gushed out of my mouth. I blinked, seeing stars.
I looked at the Marked, floating just a few wing pulses away.
They watched me with horrified gazes, their eyes wide.
Two of the females were sobbing. I didn’t know how to console them.
How to convince them that I wouldn’t fall.
That I would take every lash. That I would do whatever it took to live, so they in turn wouldn’t die.
Golden blood trickled down my chin as I swayed. Another lash from the three Dragontails sent me spinning while I tried regaining my footing. Blood seeped down my arms, past my wrists, and dripped into the growing pool now drenching the bottom of my Disciple gown.
I felt hot. Cold. All at once.
I slipped on my blood, falling to my knees. Incoherent, I forced myself up, unable to make sense of up or down. I had skipped firstfast this dawn. What a stupid idea. Now all this blood loss on an empty stomach had my head spinning like lightning discs.
Starfire.
Starfire would help.
I dipped into the well of power. I pulled on the ethèr, drawing on more than I usually did at a time, flooding my bloodstream. My back began stitching itself as capillaries and popped blood vessels began healing, even with my back torn open.
“Thirty-nine.”
Dragon spikes sunk into my neck and my arms. The Scourgers wrenched the whips out of my skin with brute force, all at the same time.
My body snapped, flipped in the air, and slammed into the ground, golden blood spurting everywhere.
I rolled over in my blood, my face and hair now coated in the hot, sticky liquid.
“Farasee Kaelthos, that’s enough! This is savagery!”
I didn’t recognize the voice, but I was thankful they tried defending me. Even if it wouldn’t work.
Nothing in the temple is given. It is earned. Including mercy.
I would find no sympathy here. Not from where it mattered. I had to move. Now. Or the Marked were dead.
Tears streamed down my cheeks, mingling with blood as I pushed to my knees. Stars. My limbs, my bones, everything was on fire. Arms trembling, I pushed back, rocking on my heels. Then ever so slowly, I pushed to rise until I stood again on my feet.
“No way,” someone whispered. “She’s still standing.”
Breathing ragged, I raised my blood drenched face and lifted my chin facing the Disciples.
Every angel in Incense Order was on their feet. So was every Legionnaire of Xadari Legion. A wave of black and gold met me in solidarity.
The Disciples had all fyused, shedding their Seraphim skin for their ethèr ones. The Legionnaires looked down at me with their jeweled, glowing, Mortent eyes, the only hint that they had drawn their powers, and would strike when released to.
I looked between them and found that Quazar wasn’t among them. My hearts crumpled. Somehow, through this chaos, this darkness, he’d ended up being the one angel I wanted to see. Needed to see to get through this.
Why had he left? Where had he gone? I searched the rows looking for the Fallen Prince. But he wasn’t there.
Quazar Valoryen was gone.