CHAPTER 28 #3
Caius approached, his eyes unsettlingly still as they focused on me. The air around us thickened, the scent of his power stronger. My pulse hammered against my ribs. I recognised this feeling—the creeping numbness in my legs, the sharp sting blooming at my temples.
He was trying to compel me, to force me to his will. Except—
“Drop to your hands and knees,” Caius commanded.
A tremor ran through me, my body straining against the power. Nothing. I was resisting it.
My rune scar.
He grimaced, his eyes scanning me, but I didn’t think he knew the reason for his failure—and I couldn’t stop myself. I grinned.
“It seems you have another ward around you or . . . something else.” Caius smirked.
“I guess we need to find out how you did it, or tonight will be a problem.” His head tilted to the other two, one side of his mouth lifting as if pulled by a hook.
“Let’s see what else she protected. We’ll need to search the bitch. ”
A snicker echoed behind him.
My fingers curled and uncurled at my sides, every muscle in my neck tightening. My rune would protect me against their spells, but not against them. I had to bury the rising panic before it swallowed me whole.
The three Scions approached, and I searched for anything around me—any weapon, any doors—but they cornered me like an animal.
The air shifted. A sharp whistle.
Then two lunged for me, and while I managed to evade one, the other grabbed me and threw me to the ground.
A boot slammed into my abdomen, and shooting pain twisted my insides, the hard assault sending my stomach back. The nausea rose fast, my muscles spasming violently. I collapsed onto my side just as another brutal kick crashed into my ribs.
Air fled my lungs, and pain—pain like I’d never felt. My vision blurred. Every instinct screamed at me to curl inward, to shield whatever I could—but there were three of them.
“Such a pathetic, useless being,” Caius sneered. “You are nothing. Good for nothing but to serve. And when Mountheim’s lord falls, that’s exactly what you’ll do.”
A hand shot out, fingers closing around my throat with crushing force before snapping my head back against the floor. Pain lanced through my skull, and a whimper slipped from my lips before I could choke it down.
My pulse thundered, panic thrashing inside me, but there were too many hands holding me down.
I couldn’t even glance at them as they rained down blow after blow, each strike filled with a seething, unrelenting hatred.
A fist collided with my face, my head whipping sideways.
The hardest, strongest hit Gwinifer had struck me with during training was nothing compared to their utter execration.
I couldn’t help myself, couldn’t avoid feeling pathetic as I lay on that filthy wood, beaten and helpless.
A fresh burst of agony ruptured along my ribs. Something cracked. A fractured scream wrenched from my chest, and I choked on the coppery taste rolling down my throat.
My dress had shifted, the slit exposing my thigh. I could only hope they didn’t strike anything vital, didn’t hit my head hard enough to cause a concussion or a fatal wound.
They loomed over me, their faces twisted in revulsion, in cruelty. As if I were nothing. Not even a person.
This will end. Soon.
It was Gwin’s voice, replaying in my head exactly as she had said it weeks ago. She told me not to panic, because it would not last. Just flee and reach for something beyond the agony, beyond their voices, beyond their fists.
So I thought of my sister. The way she hums when she cooks, the relaxed expression on her face.
She was safe.
I thought of Reagan, and a whimper built. No. The way he danced with me, the triumphant gleam in his eyes.
I cried out as another brutal kick landed against my side, right where I was certain a rib had already cracked. I braced for more, black spots filling my vision, waiting for the moment my body would give out completely.
They’d stopped. Through the haze of pain, I registered movement. Two of them stepped away, retreating beyond my line of sight, but Caius remained. He crouched beside my head, his breath uneven.
“You actually look better this way,” he murmured, eyes sweeping over me. “How are you warding yourself? What has he done?”
He leered then, his gaze cold and venomous. His hand came down, pinning me in place. I tried to move, but every muscle throbbed and burnt. Caius smiled. “As he will see, we can still hurt you.”
A shiver wracked me at the promise in his voice.
Darkness surged behind my eyes until rough hands seized my shoulders again, shaking me. A voice rasped close to my cheek.
“We are far from finished,” Caius said. “You don’t look broken enough.” He closed his fingers around my throat, the pressure not enough to hurt but enough to warn. “When I strip away the last ward he left on you, you’ll be perfect.”
A suffocating pull tightened in my chest, fear and relief for the rune on my thigh battling for space inside me.
He couldn’t compel me. He couldn’t.
I wanted to beg him to leave me.
Caius tapped my face twice, enough to sting, then slipped beyond my field of vision. Yet I could still feel his vile touch, hear the echo of his promise, the whisper of further torment meant to grind me into something small and debased.