Page 57 of The Crowned Queen

“Such pretty, sad tears,” Jaxon murmured, dragging a thumb across her cheek. He turned her head, the grain of the wood pressing against the side of her face. “You could have stopped this, Starling.”

“Is there a problem?” Caylin asked.

“No problem.” Jaxon stepped back. “It’s like you always said—she’s nothing but a halfblood whore.”

He turned his back on her, grinning at Caylin.

“Just don’t mark up her face,” he added. “I prefer her pretty.”

Araya inhaled reflexively, her breath hitching as the knife sliced a sharp, burning line across her back. Plain steel instead of iron—and not too deep. The most pain with the least damage. Every cut carefully calibrated not to scar while still leaving her gasping for breath, her tears long since run dry.

“You know—” Caylin’s soft voice wrapped around her, as sharp and deadly as the blade in her hand, “—I used to wonder what he saw in you.”

Another measured stroke, parallel to the first. Precise. Practiced.

“I suppose I understood the novelty of it,” Caylin went on. “You’re pretty enough. And of course, you were terribly desperate, weren’t you?” She laughed, her breath warm on the back of Araya’s neck. “Men do like it when their playthings are grateful.”

The blade kissed her skin again—not quite hard enough to draw blood this time. The sharp tip bumped over each one of her ribs, pausing just long enough that Araya tensed, shivering in anticipation before Caylin stepped back, the threat vanishing completely.

“But he kept coming back to you,” she said, a frown in her voice. “Over and over again. And then he made you his bond⁠—”

“This isn’t what we’re here for, Caylin,” Jaxon interrupted. “Pain is the most likely emotion to cross a blocked bond.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of emotional pain?” Caylin retorted. “Trust me⁠—”

She grabbed Araya’s braid, yanking her head back.

“—it adds to the agony. Doesn’t it, halfblood?” Caylin’s face swam in front of Araya’s eyes, so close that her warm breath stirred the strands of hair that had come loose around Araya’s face.

“She can’t even speak, Caylin,” Jaxon snapped. “You’re enjoying yourself so much that you’ve forgotten what our actual objective is here. If she loses consciousness the game is over. There’s no point in continuing if he can’t feel what you’re doing to her.”

“I’ve forgotten?” Caylin dropped her hand, letting Araya’s head thud back against the wood. “What about you? I think you’re having trouble watching your precious little pet bleed⁠—”

Araya closed her eyes.

Their voices blurred together, the words losing meaning. The pressure of the wood against her skin eased, the throbbing ache of the cuts across her back dulling to a quiet warmth, until the only thing she was left with was the slow, steady thump of her heartbeat.

This was never going to end.

They’d drag her back here day after day. Carve away pieces of her until there was nothing left of the person Loren had fallen in love with. And when the Arcanum decided they were ready to secure their own little fae prince or princess—well, then a new nightmare would begin.

It would be better if she died here.

Is that what you want?

Araya shuddered, a single thread of fear fighting through her exhaustion. She didn’t recognize the soft voice that echoed through the darkness, but she could feel it—a presence so vast and powerful that she couldn’t do anything but give in as it folded her into its arms.

I’m so tired, she whispered, the words spreading through the darkness like ripples on a pond. I just want to rest.

Then rest.

The word settled into Araya’s chest, warmth spreading through her veins from that single point. She was small again, her head pillowed against her mother’s chest, the beat of her heart anchoring Araya to a world that no longer existed. A world without fear. A world with no Jaxon. No Arcanum.

A world where she was safe.

Someone shouted far away, screaming something that might have been her name. But she was so tired, and there was so much pain in the waking world. The warmth surrounding her pressed closer, coaxing her deeper into its embrace. Nothing would hurt her again. Nothing could touch her here. There wouldn’t be any more pain or fear. Not ever again.

Rest, the darkness whispered with her mother’s voice.