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Rath tosses me over his shoulder, putting my red striped rear on display for the korabi court’s approval. Another cheer goes up, and then I am mercifully swept away from the many eyes which have enjoyed the sight of my pain. These beasts feed on humiliation. They would put off justice and even revenge in order to enjoy my pain.
I’m not so easily beaten or bowed. I screamed, and I cried, and I put on the show they wanted to see, but the truth is I barely felt any of the pain Rath was inflicting. Even now, the ache is secondary to the truth.
“I am sorry I had to do that to you.” He murmurs the apology to me when the general screaming and carrying on from the chamber seems to be on the rise again. I think they’re slaughtering something.
“Don’t be. It made me remember.”
He stops on the spot and puts me down. “You remembered? What did you remember?” He hisses the question, his hands clasping my arms as if there’s nothing else in the world more important than my answer.
“We met at the Blindspot.”
“Yes. And?”
“Shouldn’t we…” I glance around.
“Yes. I’ll get you back to the cell.”
He picks me up again, this time cradling my naked body in his massive arms. He holds me close, keeping me secure and safe until we return to the odd oasis of comfort and calm amid all this korabi nastiness.
After my experience before the court, I know there is absolutely no way King Krush knows I am being treated this way. If he had his preference, I would be left to sleep in a pit full of mange-ridden vipers, which bit and bit again.
“The king has no idea this is my cell, does he?”
“No,” Rath admits. “The king rarely tours the dungeon. And as so many of the nobles have been sentenced to various terms, it was decided that an upgrade might make sense.”
“Does that mean Tyvian is…”
“A supporter? Yes.”
“A supporter of what, though?”
“So you don’t remember it all,” he says, sounding disappointed.
“Hey, I remembered something. I might remember even more if you’d….”
“I can’t just tell you what you need to know….”
“I know. If you had a bath with me, I might remember more.”
“I do not think a bath will be comfortable for someone with your hide. You always were tough-skinned, but you’re acting as though it didn’t hurt at all. I know what I did to you, Lyric. I know you must be in a thousand agonies.”
“A thousand is a lot. Maybe a hundred.”
I am not going to show him how much it hurt. It is clear to me that if I do, he will feel even more guilty than he already does, and then whatever plan I appear to be involved with will fall apart. He has to punish me as cruelly as possible, so Krush believes he means it. So I am going to hold this pain in, and I am going to smile through it, and I am going to survive because I think that is what is at stake here.
“Let me wash you,” he says. “Not a bath, but a bath of sorts. Lie down and let me take care of you.”
He tends to me with equal tenderness to the cruelty he showed me when he whipped me. I feel the soft sponge running over my skin, warm water flowing over my flesh. Occasionally the tips of his claws brush my back. I feel his danger and his care in the same gesture, and it creates a swirling vortex of feelings in my belly.
We have been together, yet apart, for a long time, he and I. I can feel that connection growing ever stronger. We must have been close, once.
* * *
Memory returns in a strong flash…
“FREEZE!”
The korabi authorities are never far away in Megaris, even here in the Blindspot. Most of the time, they stay clear on account of the sporadic nature of the gatherings. We’re not always here, milling about, waiting to be arrested. The Unzone only comes to life occasionally.
I would be in trouble if I was caught here, but not nearly as much as Mr. Perfect Soldier here. He has some real explaining to do.
Rath looks wide-eyed, which is actually adorable on anything as large as he is.
“I’ve heard the punishment for korabi found here is severe.”
“It’s considered treason,” he says. “I’d be executed if I was lucky.”
“Looks like you took a gamble and lost.”
We have our own ways out of here, plus, when there’s korabi present, the soldiers never care about scum. We barely exist to them. We’re like scurrying vermin. You might kill us if you were thinking of tidying up, but when there’s bigger prey at play, you don’t stop to mess with them.
I grab his big hand, avoiding the claws. “Come on. You can probably fit through our way out if you crawl.”
