“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’tanyonestepping 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.
