Page 80 of The Kingdom of Flames

Tristien glanced down, annoyed. “Master will do.”

“Yes, master.”

Celestine dragged across the sands to where a pillory waited. A lone tower of beautiful stone, the cairn spiraling up in a yellow and white pattern crested the shoreline.

Tristien removed all bindings from her, and she rubbed her wrists and moved her aching jaw with a strong pop.

“That was to be our honeymoon tower, where we would lie, bound to one another after our wedding.”

“Yes, master.”

Tristien chuckled, power emanating from him. His form was so solid, his physique menacing. He bent her over, placing her wrists and head through the hole in the pillory, then closed it on her. She had heard of such punishment blocks in other lands, but never seen one filled.

Behind her, as she bent low, her back contorting with pain already forced forward, her ankles were shackled to a spreader bar. Like a criminal cast for public disgrace. Like a whore displayed to be used for anyone’s pleasure.

“This will be your honeymoon now, Tristien stood behind her. “Your ring—the circlet around my brow. Mine—the tight flesh that sleeps between your legs.”

“Yes, master.” Celestine stared at the ocean. .

The flog came, of course. Despite Summer’s brutal heat, coldness was all in her flesh. He flogged her in a spinning manner, the tails rarely not dancing across her thighs, her mound, so exposed, until she wept.

He laughed. “Keep looking, my love.”

All I must do is to endure. I’ll tell Aidric. Or wait out the month, and then Court demands I go to the Blue Banner. Any other courting must be better than this.

“Take in the waves, the blue glittering sea, my love.” Tristien chuckled. “It will be the last time you see it.”

Somehow, after the beach and the tower, she pulled the carriage back to Suntower. Exhaustion wasn’t a word anymore. It was a plane that she existed on. Walls were forming around her mind, walls that Tristien was putting up.

I should have never touched that circlet. Gods help me. Gods help the Painted Realm.

As they approached the manor, Tristien’s whip never ceasing in dashing red line after line across her back. If she had had any tears left, she would’ve cried when she saw Aidric waiting in front of the manor.

“Whoa, whoa.” Tristien pulled the reins, her head eased back. It was the first time anyone had seen her since the circlet was donned.

“Lord Solis,” the Captain of Calendar greeted him.

“What is it?” Tristien snapped from his carriage.

“This cannot be allowed. You hide the Final Bride. You steal her away.”

“This is our love and honeymoon, Captain. You have no right to be here nor stand on my lands.”

The mirrored mask covered his face, highlighting his stocky, strong form. Though he was small next to Tristien, who stood with a riding crop bent between his hands, he regarded her intently.

“Is this true, Lady Celestine?”

Celestine looked at Tristien, who stared at her.

“I wish to leave,” Celestine cried. She couldn’t believe she actually said it.

To think, I used to court his punishment. Now, I will do anything. I would take a noose and a momentary drop over another moment in this manor.

Aidric’s shadowy voice cut through the air. “The Bride will leave with me now, Lord Solis.”

Tristien stood over him. “She will not. She is mine.”

“I ask you to step aside.”

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