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“The shirt,” King Windre reminded sternly.
I took a breath.This is what I am good at. This is what needs to be done. So why does it feel so bad to do it? Maybe Red deserves it. But maybe she really doesn’t.
Detach. Turn your feelings off.
The thin, flimsy material of her shirt tore easily as I ripped from the collar down and pushed the material aside. She was all bone. I had known that from the small glimpses I had when her clothing lifted, but looking at her back was truly appalling. Every vertebra, every single rib could be counted easily. It would take nothing to split her skin open right to the bone.
Damn it.
Floorboards creaked as I took steps away from her, letting the whip fall loosely next to me. King Windre pushed his red jacket behind him, his hands on his hips as he circled Red like a hawk. A shiver ran down Red’s spine as he lowered himself to her level and lifted her chin to him.
“Every time the whip hits you, you count. If you do not count, then our good friend Milo must start again, until he gets to fifty.”
“I thought you said twenty-five?” I paused.
“Oh, it’s twenty-five per escape attempt.”
My fingers held the whip firmly, gripping it until I thought my hand might cramp. King Windre stood and took a step back. His eyes flickered back up to me and he mouthed the word “go.” I glanced behind me, the Nymph in the corner had curled further into himself and his sobbing had quieted as he watched with wide eyes and gaping mouth.
When someone screamed it was always my favorite part. A small thrill ran through me in anticipation that it would drown out the tiny taste of guilt that was souring my tongue.
Swiftly, I swung my arm above my head, getting momentum and warming up the muscles in my arm. The crack of the whip was felt with the entirety of my body as I pulled my arm back and carried the motion through with my torso. As if an extension of my body, Red lurched forward as the tip created a long red stripe down her back.
“Count,” King Windre said, kicking her leg.
“One,” Red hissed, as I tugged the length of the whip back toward me.
Warmth traveled my body as I struck again. It had been too long since I had used a whip, and my whole physique, down to my legs, was waking up to the sensation of the movement again. Leather sliced through the air and slapped against Red’s back as I struck again.
“Two,” she whispered a moment after crying out.
“No, it wasn't loud enough,” King Windre said. “Start over.”
So I started again. The whip cutting into her back over and over again. Her voice was a whimpering tremble I was certain would escape her but it never did. Sometimes her screams made me smile. Sometimes the sound of her crying ruined it.
Morning came and went, the sun's glow filtered through the cracked curtains making its way across the floorboards to remind me that I had responsibilities to attend to. Without the threat of a lashing, and with what motivation I had wavering, my body felt weighted to the mattress. I tugged at the fluffy comforter on the bed, rolling toward the light. I ignored the nagging feelings.
My nightclothes, a loose-fitting shirt and cotton shorts, were bunched about as high as they could go from all my movement as I slept. But the sheets were warm enough it made up for the amount of bare skin showing. I spread my arms and legs out wide, reaching for the corners of the bed, smiling to myself when I couldn’t touch them. It was a huge upgrade from the tiny sliver of a bed they had forced us to sleep on before.
Two loud knocks on my door made me crack an eye, as if I could see through the door. I groaned and sat up. At this point I didn’t care who was at the door, I wasn’t getting out of bed.
“Come in,” I yelled, pulling my hair up into a bun and securing it.
The door opened and Dace strolled in, his eyes wandering the room looking for me until they stopped, widening a fraction, on the bed. He was long since out of his own nightclothes with black leather pants, that screamedI’m a prince again,and another sheer shirt, this time gray. His hair wasn’t as slicked back as it normally was. Instead, a few wavy strands twisted over his forehead. I hadn’t realized he had any curl to his hair before, he must work rather hard to keep it slicked down. He took a few steps forward, stopping in the warmth of the sunlight that my curtains could not hide. Under the yellow rays his skin looked almost transparent, his veins bright icy-blue like his eyes.
“Good morning to you,” Dace purred.
My traitorous body shivered at the words. Overly aware of my lack of underclothing, my thin shirt hardly hid the peak of my breasts, and I folded my arms over my chest. “Nice to see you up and about.” I crossed my legs in front of me.
“You do know it is almost supper time, right?” His feet whispered over the boards as he made his way to the curtains to peel them away until I was squinting from the sudden brightness.
“That late?”
He nodded. “I’m afraid so. No worries though; there is still enough time in the day to achieve a thing or two. I actually came to see if we could do a little more of the training we didn’t get to finish last night.” He pulled yet another red apple from his pocket and held it in the light. “I could slice you off some pieces and we can call it breakfast.”
“Right now?”
“Yeah, I’ll just pop back and forth inside your room.” He raised his eyebrows and whispered, “No one has to know.”
