Page 22 of A Bond of Fire and Roses

My eyes roam the dark walls around me. The black rock and low ceiling make me feel like I’m walking through a cave. I guess it would make sense that the dragons’ keep would be hidden underground. As I trace unusual markings glowing within cracks in the wall, I glance up at Noble as he leads the way down.

“I thought the wedding was taking place at dawn?”

“The king decided to postpone it,” he says, “until noon when the sun is hottest. Don’t worry, ice princess. You’ve still got a little more time to freeze the sun.”

I let out a shaky breath. I don’t know what I expected to feel in response to that, but it wasn’t disappointment. No time to think about that. I’ve got until midday before I sign my life away. I want to enjoy every last moment of my freedom.

The dragons keep is a massive cavern of lava, rivers and smooth rock. The elements seem to be combatting each other in nearly every inch of it but it’s the endless gaps in the cave, big enough for dragons, and the eyes I feel on me from the second I step in the keep. There are dragons hiding everywhere, lurking in the gaps and shadows, and I bet in the river that flows through the middle of the cavern, with a waterfall right at the back of the keep. Lava flows around the edges in its own rivers, and it pours down the stone like rain. I barely look at the rest of the cavern as my eyes drift to the king.

He isn’t alone.

Although Erax faces our direction, his gaze is pinned on four individuals kneeling before him. His face is cloaked in shadows, but I know it’s him. It’s like his very essence is peering through the darkness to draw me in. My legs move forward by their own accord as if drawn to him. He doesn’t look up at the sound of our footsteps approaching. If I could see him, I doubt he even blinked—too focused on those in front of him. One of them sways to the side with a whimper, as if they are struggling to hold themselves up from exhaustion or pain. I catch a glimpse of the shackles binding their wrists to their backs, and a feeling of ice-cold dread overcomes me.

Why have I been brought down here?

Once we have descended the last of the steps, Noble moves his hand to my shoulder and guides me around the platform. He places me on the far right of Erax. Despite that I’m still widely out of his reach, I’m at least close enough to witness him stepping out into the sunlight. It pours down over him from the gap in the cavern right above us. Erax no longer smells just like fire and roses. A metallic tang hangs off him and I don’t need to look to know he is covered in blood. For a second, I panic, thinking it is his, but I soon realise it isn’t.

I never expected my future husband to be covered in blood on the day of our wedding.

He looks just like he did when we met—silently unhinged, as if he’s seconds away from burning everything around him to the ground. I follow his line of sight to the source of his contention, and the ground sways underneath me.

No, no, no. This can’t be right.

Every fibre in my body recoils as the scars on my back tingle in memory of the pain I suffered all those long years.

This can’t be real. You’re not real. None of you are!

But the moment the sun hits them, I know they are real—as real as the nightmares that torment me most nights. As real as the scars they carved into my body and mind.

My very soul.

The four women kneeling before their king are as real as the hatred, I have for them and held onto since day one. That very hatred boils to the surface of my being at the sight of Sister Faye glancing back at me. I take a step back, vaguely aware of Noble steadying me with his hand on my shoulder again. Sister Breea and Sister Michael glance back at me too. I notice how all but one of the sisters is crying. If it weren’t for the swelling of her face, I’d almost think she was smiling at me.

Shock and fear are the first emotions to fill me when I look at Sister Gabriella. Then comes the rage—the searing, blinding rage that rises from the depths of my body. To see her so beaten like this, kneeling before the very king she worshipped like a god all these years, brings me a sense of vindication I never thought I’d feel. My goal was always to escape her convent and never look back, but this?

This is justice.

I can’t take my eyes off her as she tilts her head up at her king. He removes his hands from behind his back to reveal a black object in his hands. My heart seizes when I run my gaze over it. Sister Gabriella’s whip. The black handle gleams in the light as he glides his long fingers through the blood-stained tails. No matter how many times I was ordered to wash that whip, I could never get my blood out from its fibres.

Erax lifts his foot and places it on the rock, drawing my attention back to him. He rests his elbow on his knee and rotates the bottom of the whip, causing the handle to gleam against the sun. Its glare blinds me and for a moment all I can hear is his dangerously low voice echoing off the cave walls.

“An interesting tool, is it not?” He lifts the object up to the sun, the handle gleaming in the light. “That’s what my grandfather used to call them: tools. He had a whole room dedicated to his collection of them, each one meticulously displayed.” He grips the tails with his other hand and wraps them around his fingers. “One a month, when I was five, he would take me to that room and task me with polishing them. If I did a good job, I was rewarded. If I failed, or knocked one of them over, he’d give me two lashes across the hand.”

He pulls and strains the whip, then flicks it.

Snap.

Everyone jumps at the sound, including myself. His grandfather hurt him. Why would he hurt his heir? A few of the sister’s whimper while another bursts into tears. I keep my eyes on Sister Gabriella. Although her expression is calm, not even she can hide the visible trembling of her shoulders. I watch as her fear slowly settles in. It claws at her throat, forcing her muscles to jerk and contract against her flesh, then it runs down her spine until her whole-body trembles. As if to hide the wobbling of her chin, she rests it on her chest. But I saw it, and my heart skips a beat in surprise. I have never seen Sister Gabriella frightened before.

Angry, gleeful, smug — yes. But never afraid.

Erax stretches the tails to their full length, straining the leather. “Those lashes were nothing compared to what he did to the servants,” he says, his voice sweeping over me again. “I can still hear their screams as they clawed at the chamber door, begging for death. There was barely any flesh on their bones once he was through with them.” His dark emerald eyes flicker down to the sisters, taking in each of them slowly. “Do you know what it feels like to be whipped like that? No? What about you, Sister Faye? Or you, Breea?”

When at last his gaze lands on Sister Gabriella, Erax doesn’t speak.

He strikes.

—SLASH—

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