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Laesornysh was a warrior. He could be expected to endure pain and torture, even if Rharreth was torn over the honor of inflicting it.
But Princess Melantha was not a warrior. She was a healer. Could she truly be faulted for trying to heal her brother, perhaps as an attempt to assuage her own guilt over the dishonorable things she had done to her brother and kingdom? After all, Charvod had been the first to push her to heal Laesornysh after torture. Could she be blamed if she continued to do so?
As Charvod dragged Princess Melantha from Laesornysh’s cell, Rharreth found himself clenching his fists to stop himself from saving her from his brother’s grip. “Don’t punish her. He is her brother, after all. The failing was mine. I will accept your punishment.”
If what Charvod claimed had happened at the front was true, then Rharreth had failed his brother. He had failed his king. And, most of all, he had failed his kingdom. It was a dishonor that shamed him to his core. He deserved punishment. Princess Melantha did not.
Charvod’s mouth curled as his grip tightened on Princess Melantha’s arm until she winced. His blazing eyes focused on Rharreth. “Oh, you will face my punishment as well. You have betrayed your brother and your king in aiding Laesornysh.”
Rharreth glanced from him to Princess Melantha’s head held high as if she intended to take this pain as bravely as her brother had taken Charvod’s torture.
But, Rharreth could not continue this argument in front of Laesornysh, no matter his inner turmoil over what was honorable when it came to the elf warrior. His confrontation with his brother should not happen before their greatest enemy.
Instead of protesting further, Rharreth marched from the dungeon cell, his shoulders braced as he stepped into the center of Charvod’s waiting shield band.
After he stepped out of Laesornysh’s cell and shut the door behind him, still dragging Princess Melantha, Charvod gestured from his warriors to Rharreth. “Seize the prince.”
This was Charvod’s shield band, the group of warriors with whom he had trained for years. Their loyalty to him was utterly unshakable.
Rharreth didn’t resist as several of them grabbed his arms and wrenched his hands behind his back. Hopefully he could convince Charvod to exhaust his anger and spare Princess Melantha.
Charvod led the way down another passageway, this one ending in a dark room complete with stone chains hanging from the walls and a table with several implements of torture laid out in the center. Such implements of torture were not necessary to use on Laesornysh since troll magic and stone was the most painful torture they could inflict on him.
But for fellow trolls? This was the place where the dishonored proved their worth through pain and suffering.
Rharreth halted in the grip of his captors next to the table and faced Charvod. “I have failed you in allowing the elf princess to tend to her brother. While she was merely doing what the honor of her people would demand, I sacrificed my own with the weakness of mercy for an enemy. The punishment belongs to me, not her.”
Charvod shook Melantha hard enough that her teeth clacked together. “And yet, you defend her. She is your enemy, just as much as he is.”
Was she? All Rharreth saw was a woman caught in a web of her own making. But, while she betrayed her kingdom, she had helped Kostaria. She had handed them Laesornysh, after all. She should have been their honored guest, not their prisoner.
But he could not tell that to Charvod. Instead, he faced his brother as boldly as he could, willing him to remember the pain of their childhood. “She is not a warrior and should not be punished according to the warrior’s code. It is not honorable to so torture a woman.”
Charvod snorted, sneering first at Princess Melantha, then at Rharreth. “She is an elven vixen. She might be able to betray the elves, soft and pampered as they are, but she won’t get away with betraying us.”
In Charvod’s grip, Princess Melantha had regained her feet. She raised her chin, her pale face smoothing even as her burning eyes glared at Charvod as if she intended to rip out his hair the moment she had the chance.
She didn’t interrupt their conversation, even as she appeared braced for Rharreth to lose this argument.
Rharreth struggled against the warriors restraining him. “Do not harm her. It isn’t honorable.”
“She’s the enemy. Everything is honorable when done to the enemy.” Charvod snarled and pointed at him. “Shackle him to the wall.”
Rharreth shoved away from those holding him, calling on his magic as he faced Charvod’s shield band. Was he willing to fight his own people for Princess Melantha?
Honor demanded loyalty to his king, kingdom, and people. Honor also demanded he protect the innocent and helpless. How could honor demand such conflicting things of him? What was wrong that the right thing to do was so unclear?
Magic surrounded Charvod’s free hand. “So this is what it has come to, Rharreth? You would fight your king for an elf? You show by your actions the depth of your dishonor and disloyalty.”
“I don’t want to fight you, Charvod. I will willingly take any punishment you deem fitting for my actions. But I cannot allow you to harm her.” Rharreth focused on Charvod, even as he kept the prowling members of his brother’s shield band in the corners of his vision. “You promised years ago that you would not become like our father. This is something he would have done.”
Something flickered in Charvod’s gaze before he looked away from Rharreth. “Fine, then. The punishment is yours.”
Beside Charvod, Princess Melantha’s shoulders relaxed just a fraction, even as her gaze locked on Rharreth, her brows knit as if she wasn’t entirely sure why he was doing this for her.
Rharreth released his magic and held out his hands. He did not resist as the warriors dragged him to the wall, shackled his hands above his head, and tore open the back of his shirt to bare his back. He did not so much as whimper as the whip cracked through the air and tore across his back, wielded by his own brother’s hand. He did not ask for mercy as sweat beaded on his forehead and pain weakened his knees while Charvod raised the whip again and again.
Finally, the whip fell silent, leaving only ragged breathing filling the room. Rharreth leaned his forehead against the cool stone, trying to hide the weakness and pain shaking through him. His stomach heaved, his back burned. All he wanted to do was collapse, but he had agreed to take this punishment. He would bear it with all the bravery and honor of a warrior.
