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Chapter 21
Now
None of the members of the Board of Blood so much as looked in my direction as the snake lay dead on the ground.
Except Ludovicus.
His stare was so intense that I felt like I could reach up and grab it, like it was a tangible thing that I could wring dry and snap in half.
Augusta, Estelle, Cora, Alira, and I remained, the whistling of Iridia’s painfully shallow breathing echoing in the large hall. Willow had awoken screaming soon after Iridia had been dumped beside her, but her shouts were quickly extinguished by Garit’s handkerchief shoved down her throat.
“My darlings, you have done wonderful thus far,” Raolin said, clasping his hands together. His gaze never once rested on me. Murmurs of agreement rang through the line of men on the dais as the nervous energy fluttered. “It is time to see whether the Benevolent Saints deem you worthy of Royal standing.” His voice sent a shiver down my back, the goosebumps pulling my skin taut. “Let’s begin.”
The brothers rose, each approaching a large wooden box that sat on the left edge of the dais. Ludovicus stayed seated, his chin propped on his thumb while his fingers rested on his cheek, his onyx eyes playful. A smile tugged the right corner of his mouth upward. I didn’t break his stare no matter how badly every ounce of me yearned to be free from it.
The other brothers approached us holding manacles, each of their faces adorned with menacing smiles. “Stay still,” crooned Arturius. They began to shackle our hands behind us, lifting the hems of our monstrous gowns to chain our feet together. Higgins and Arturius tended to my chains, neither of them saying a word nor looking at my face. I didn’t fight it. The thick metal cuffs on my ankles were a stark contrast to the delicate silver high heels they rested against. All this time spent practicing walking in these Saints damned things only to be given steel cuffs to wear over them.
“The rules are simple,” Anton tittered. The men stood in front of us, their gazes still intentionally avoiding me. Ludovicus stayed perched in his seat, preternaturally still. A cold sweat broke on my brow as my mind ran over the possibilities of what was about to transpire. Was this what Marita was talking about when she said I wouldn’t be able to defend myself? “Each brother will commit one…actagainst each of you beautiful ladies. If the Benevolent Saints approve of you, you will be rewarded.” A wicked smile painted his face. “Your life remains yours. You will need a favor from Onera, Saint of Miracles, to survive this.” Anton strode over to a box, clicking his tongue as his hand hovered over it. “Ahh,” he breathed. “Like an old friend.” He pulled out a long whip, the braided leather dull in the candlelight. My mouth went dry.
He stepped toward Augusta. She recoiled, which only made Anton’s amusement flare. “Turn,” he said. Her eyes were wide, her shoulders forward in as much of a defensive position as she could manage with her hands behind her back. Her porcelain skin looked pallid in the light of the throne room. I saw the wheels of her mind turn as she contemplated how she could escape, how she could end this — then saw it melt to defeat as she realized there was no way out. She turned around slowly, the top half of her back exposed above her pure white gown, her hands laced so tightly together that her fingers were red.
Silence fell. Everyone was still. I had expected Anton to predicate his strike with a snide remark, but before I knew it the whip was flying through the air, landing across Augusta’s back with a nauseatingsnap. The scream that left her shook the room as she sank to her knees, the manacles clacking together. An angry red welt had appeared with a canyon of broken skin down the middle. Blood dripped, the top of her perfectly white gown turning the color of Raolin’s ruby eyes.
Alira turned to me, her eyes wild with fear. I set my jaw and kept my face blank, hoping that my lack of emotion would calm her down. Her head flew from side to side as her twin whimpered through her gag in the back of the room.
Anton gave a slight nod before moving on to Estelle, Augusta’s cries of pain still echoing through the chamber. He pointed his finger in the air, wagging it in a small circle. The rest of the board members’ faces were set in sickening grins, watching the horror in front of them as if it were a theater show put on just for them. Estelle turned, her head held high but tears streaming down her face. The whip came down across her back and her scream matched Augusta’s. An identical wound opened, splitting her slim, pristine back in two. Her gown began to turn red.
Cora’s fear was palpable, and her blood curdling scream clanged through my head like a cathedral bell as Anton snapped the whip across her back. I could feel Alira’s eyes on me but I didn’t look over at her — I couldn’t, or else I’d break not only a rule, but I’d break in fear as well.
Anton moved before Alira, gesturing to her to turn. She did so, her body shaking with sobs. Willow screamed through her gag, kicking her legs on the marble floor as she watched her sister concede to the wicked man’s order.
Her eyes were squeezed shut, harsh tears pouring from the corners. Her mouth moved in prayer, barely above a whisper. “Onera, Saint of Miracles, please offer your protection and guard my life with–”
Snap.
The whip landed higher than Anton’s previous strikes, catching her in the back of the neck as the whip wrapped around her throat. Anton followed through with his motion and pulled the whip back, but it had already encircled Alira’s neck. Her body flew backwards, the sound of her neck snapping pierced the air before her head smacked on the marble.
The muffled scream that left Willow could have brought this castle down. It was the sound of a sister watching her other half die in front of her. Willow’s screams were my own.
“Oh, dear,” Anton said quietly, standing over Alira's body. Her head was angled as if a single movement would sever it from her body, eyes wide and staring into the abyss. “That was certainly not my intention.” The other board members chuckled beside him. “Now her pretty dress will stay white forever. A shame to meet the Saints having bled not for them. Higgins?” Higgins nodded and stepped forward, slinging Alira’s body across his shoulder, the ruffles of her skirt cascading across his torso. He dumped her next to Willow, whose sobs had gone quiet, so deep and so painful that they could not be heard by others.
Slowly, Anton raised his gaze to me. I sensed something ripple off of him — uncertainty. This tiny vulnerability was all I needed to keep going. He stepped over the body of the dead snake toward me, looking down his nose wearing a mask of disdain. “Turn.”
I made sure to stare into his eyes for one extra moment. An extra moment I used to communicate that he would not break me, that not a single fucking member of the Board of Blood would break me. For a split second, his gaze folded in on itself in understanding. It was enough to give me the strength to turn.
Shoulders back, chin high, jaw set, I bared my back to him, but the snap of the whip and the pain that followed proved to me that even though I bore a keeper’s crown, not a single Saint was listening.
???
Cora fell to the ground when an arrow sank into her thigh. Her screams were just a few of a constant symphony of pain and terror echoing off the columns of the throne room. She clasped her hands together, staring up at Arturius. “Mercy! Please, Sir, I beg of you. Mercy!”
Arturius looked down his nose at the girl on the floor, a red rose of blood blooming on the skirt of her dress around the arrow that had impaled her.An arrow. They were shooting us with arrows.He bent down on one knee, slinging the bow across his back and meeting her gaze. “You, sweet girl, are not worthy.” He stood, grabbed her by the shackled wrists, and dragged her across the floor to the columns in the back. The red rose on her gown left its petals in a trail behind her as she begged and pleaded. She was chained and gagged like the rest of them. Her cries of pain made the bile rise in my throat as Arturius wrenched the arrow from her flesh and her head dropped back. Her chest still heaved, but she was unconscious.
The blood didn’t flow from my leg as quickly as Cora’s had, thankfully, but my dress still showed the evidence. I took Arturius’ arrow in my leg just as I took Higgins’ mace strikes to my ribs. I could feel my consciousness slipping away as my ribs cracked, but I remained standing. I was almost positive that every one of the bones in my left foot was broken after Garit’s hammer came down upon them, crushing them all under its wide iron head. Augusta finally broke and begged mercy through pained screams over her broken foot, promising to dedicate herself to the Saints and the service of the Board of Blood in exchange for her life. Her pleas fell on deaf ears and she was chained to a column and gagged.
I stayed silent as Raolin’s fist landed solid in my gut, his knuckles encased in a large ring of metal. Estelle made it as far as Raolin’s blow before emptying her stomach onto the floor, the vomit mixing with a pool of blood. She and I looked at each other, strangers understanding that death was imminent.
Balthazar approached Estelle with a wooden club as thick as his leg. Estelle’s chin was as high as she could hold it, her white dress now crimson. He raised the club, but Estelle yanked against her chain, trying to cover her face with her hands. He stopped. “Have you forgotten the rules, darling Estelle?” he purred. She said nothing, returning her arm to her side. Without another word, Balthazar swung the club, striking her across the face. The force knocked her to the ground where she landed with a wet slap, the blood and vomit on the marble splashing like harbor waves around her. Teeth flew from her mouth, landing like pebbles in a puddle. I couldn’t tell if the blow had killed her or simply knocked her unconscious, but Balthazar chained her to a column nonetheless.
