“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.
Chapter 12
Sainte received a tonic to numb the pain and lull him to sleep while we tended his wounds. Gilead, understanding my silence and my need to help, handed me another strip of gauze. I pressed it against his raw, torn flesh, focusing on the task. Anderz’s watchful gaze burned into me, a silent accusation that I couldn’t ignore, as if questioning whether I learned my lesson.
I bit my cheek and withdrew my hand as Gilead finished dressing his wounds. My mind raced—would he ever regain his former agility, or would he suffer for the rest of his life, for my sake?
I wished he had never come back for me.
Tears streaked down my face, leaving hot, angry trails.
“Counselor Dyre, please fetch something to eat,” Gilead said, her voice hushed and calm.
“As you wish.”
I ignored Anderz’s departure, wiping my cheeks as I glanced around. The room was pristine, with white sheets adorning every bed. A few patients lay resting, each with various injuries, but all were in a state of peaceful slumber. The air felt sterile, almost too clean against the backdrop of suffering.
“He will heal,” Gilead murmured as she knelt before me. “You’re hurt as well.”
My once-elegant blue dress, now smeared with blood, clung uncomfortably to my skin. “No, it’s not mine.” My voice cracked with emotion as I wiped my face.
Her eyes studied my features, her smile tinged with sadness. “You hurt here,” she said, placing her hand on my chest.
Tears pooled and spilled over, blurring my vision. “I can’t do this.” The confession tumbled out, choking my tight throat. “I couldn’t even help him. I didn’t know what to do or what to say.”
My actions were driven by impulse, by a desperate need to save him, only to have delivered the final blow.
I would never forgive myself for that.
“Anderz was right to let you go.”
I blinked away the haze to stare at her in disbelief. “What?”
“He allowed Prince Regent Adastrus to teach you a valuable lesson.”
“That my brother can do what he wants? Sure, I learned that. Crystal clear.”
Her hand rested on my knee, in an attempt to soothe my rising anger. “You learned not to act in haste. If you aren’t prepared, you will fail every time.”
“Don’t you believe in the gods?” I scoffed. “Why prepare if they’ll help you through?”
“They won’t do for you what you can do yourself.” She smiled, glancing at Sainte. “Don’t shy from asking Anderz for guidance. The man is wise beyond his years.”
