Page 184 of Eternal Surrender

Squeezing my eyes shut, I told myself this wasn’t the ritual of torture once used by the Stone Masters. Though when the long line of monks streamed in, I knew it was. With brutal determination by the men who surrounded me, my arms were stretched out wide to either side of me.

Only now did I understand what Sunaria had endured.

This barbaric torturing of mind, body and soul, stripping away all identity and leaving behind its victim so filled with terror that the fight inevitably turns inward. Regret was all that was left, mourning for all that could have been.

And yet would never now be.

Aiden’s face loomed over me. Crowther wouldn’t be far away. My throat tightened when that familiar chanting arose, that terrible cadence announcing what was to come. Lord Crowther took his position at the head of the table, the once position of the Stone Master himself, now seized by Sovereign’s leader.

The first slice of a knife through my wrist brought excruciating pain; the sound of my blood trickled into a goblet. The fine bejeweled cup was then handed from monk to monk and supped from. Each man’s chanting ceased only to imbibe. Unlike the Stone Masters the drink was shared, savored, enjoyed. Gradually, their expressions turning blissful.

All except one, a monk who stood to my left, his hood pulled well over his face, his hands steepled in prayer.

“We gather to celebrate my son’s induction,” Crowther began. “We welcome Aiden into the fold.”

I flinched when yet another slice made its way through my wrist, my teeth chattering.

Lifting my head again, trying to count the number of men, I caught Aiden gulping the entire contents of the bejeweled vessel, his lips smudged red as he violated me with that very act.

Still in denial, I wanted to believe I could take them on, all of them, though resistance from the chains insisted my judgment was skewed.

“We offer up this sacrifice to the brothers, our blessed Watchers of the Night,” Crowther suddenly seemed distracted.

All eyes were on Aiden, who was sitting on the ground wearing a ridiculous grin, his eyelids forced shut, forgetting why he was here as the blood raged through his veins, setting every cell alight with supernatural velocity. His grunts of pleasure were embarrassingly loud.

Crowther watched on horrified, his expression abashed—shamed. One of the monks ambled toward me and from beneath his hood familiar eyes stared back.

Sebastian’s.

He reached for the discarded knife and rested it against my wrist though applied no pressure. “Now and again a man glances at the island just off in the distance,” he said, his Welsh accent lulling me. “He wonders what goes on there.” Sebastian removed the knife. “Then one day he travels to that very island and turns to face the old land and realizes. . .”

My eyes stung with tears.

Crowther snatched the knife from Sebastian. “We finish this tomorrow.”

Sebastian stepped back, his hood falling over his face again.

Unsecured now, I was dragged off the table and past the monks who were trying to control a frenzied Aiden. Instead of turning left where they’d initially imprisoned me, I was shoved headfirst into another cell.

The door locked behind me.

Peering into the darkness, there lying on his side curled up in a ball was Raven, his cheeks sucked in and drawn, his terrified face turned upward at the ceiling.

Paradom was hanging upside down, his clawed feet holding him steady from a low wooden beam, and in his arms lay a barely conscious Angus. Paradom’s lips were locked on Angus’s throat and he was sucking hard.

“William?” The woman’s voice sounded fragile.

There came a wave of emotions, everything from joy at seeing Ingrid to angst that she was here.

She flushed with horror when she saw the arrows protruding from my chest.

“Get. . . them out,” I muttered.

Fearing what I asked of her, she carefully ran her fingertips over the nocks testing how deep the arrows went. Despite the wrenching pain, knowing she was alive gave me the strength to stay conscious, and when the final arrow left my flesh it felt like air was filling my lungs properly again.

“Tell me they didn’t hurt you,” I asked her.

“Seeing you is all I needed.” Ingrid approached Raven and persuaded him to hand over his coat, then carried it back, laying it over me. “What did they do to you?”