Page 144 of The Reaping Rose

“Do you know what’s worse than pain?” He grins at me, but I don’t answer. “Watching it inflicted on someone else.”

Overlord Farseth stops at Perame’s side. Her eyes blink in and out of consciousness. Esen flinches as the overlord begins lowering the blade to Perame’s arm, and his jaw tightens.

“You know what will happen to you if you do not help me, Esen. Be good and do as you’re told,” he snaps.

Tears burn in my eyes as Esen hesitates for a moment, and I hope she won’t help him, knowing she has no real choice. Just as he’ll strip our magic unwillingly, he wields her power against her will.

“It’s okay.” Perame is the one to speak, pulling Esen’s attention. “It’s not your fault. I know that. It’s okay.”

“It won’t be okay soon,” the overlord promises, glancing back at me. “Unless you’ll agree to give me what I need willingly.”

“I’d rather die.”

He grins. A dark smile turns up the corners of his mouth as he brushes Perame’s curls off her face. “You’ll wish you were dead long before it happens. And so will she.”

At that, he lowers the blade to Perame’s arm, and her scream is all that can be heard in this realm and possibly all the others.

Chapter 48

Elorie

Blood drips from the bleeding blade. It glows brighter with every slice, pulling magic from Perame with every cut. With every crimson puddle pooling on the ground.

Sweat drips down Perame’s face. Her neck.

Her nails dig into her palms, slicing them open.

She tilts her head back in a scream, but her voice is hoarse.

“Stop,” I yell again, tears streaking my cheeks.

Beside me, Callum’s magic hammers against the void, but neither of us can break through. We can’t do anything.

Esen’s hands shake at her sides while she watches, her face drained of all color.

Perame’s leathers are sliced open at her thighs, the flesh flayed open. With every drop of blood, the blade sears with light. Somehow, it is taking the magic from her blood just as ravagers drain it with their teeth. It’s an instrument of death.

Perame’s legs are so bloody that Overlord Farseth struggles to find whole flesh, so he moves to her arm, tearing the sleeve and lowering the point of the dagger to her shoulder, slowly dragging down.

“Stop,” I beg, but it’s no use.

It’s like he hears nothing. Not even Perame’s piercing scream as it fills the room. That just makes his grin widen.

Perame’s head lolls, the pain all-consuming, rendering her silent. Her head tilts to the side, and her eyes meet Esen’s. A single tear rolls down Perame’s cheek, and while Esen doesn’t move, her own eyes turn glassy.

“Perame.” I reach through the bars, my fingers brushing her arm.

She’s yet to move beyond rolling her head from side to side. Half awake and half dreaming as the pain seemingly has yet to leave her. Blood mats her hair to one side of her face from how the overlord dragged her into the cell, pulling her through the pools of her own blood.

“Please stay with me,” I beg, clasping her hand.

Overlord Farseth finally stopped cutting into Perame when she passed out. He shoved her in a cell and left us in this damp dungeon without light.

Without hope.

“Hold on for me,” I beg, squeezing harder. “For Atlas, for Wilder. Please hold on.”

Her eyebrows relax, and she stops squirming, drifting from pain to sleep as I sit, holding her hand through the bars. My gaze moves to Callum, who watches us from his cell.