Page 11 of Ash and Roses

“I asked her to sleep there. My nightmares have returned, and having a warm body beside me helps. I stepped out to get some air.” It’s not a lie. Not entirely, anyway. I do occasionally ask Teagan to share the bed with me when my nightmares are at their worst. Even when we don’t share a bed, she sleeps in my room nearly every night.

“Maids sleep on pallets.” Something about his tone has me anxious. If this was just about the baby, he wouldn’t be so focused on Teagan. She means nothing to him.

“Where is she?” I have to work to sound only mildly interested. Anything more than that might spark him into doing something drastic, like reassigning her. I can’t imagine a single day without her songs drifting through the rooms of my chambers.

His midnight black eyebrows lift in feigned surprise. “You mean to tell me you care more about a serving girl than you do your new sibling?”

Clearly my disinterest isn’t fooling anyone, so I change tactics and slide my eyes to the queen, bowing my head slightly. “You have a beautiful baby, Your Highness.”

“I have a beautifulson.” She drags a long, curved fingernail down the length of the bundle.

Son. So the line of succession has changed again. All in one night, Arabella was stripped from her crown just as her birth had robbed me of mine. I have to swallow hard against the sudden lump in my throat. When words don’t immediately form, I drop to my knees to kneel before the infant heir. Anything less might be seen as a denial of the child’s birthright, and with the tension in the room tonight, I am not about to test that.

“A perfect future king,” I mutter just loud enough for them to hear. “I hope you are well, Stepmother.” Though the queen is a poor choice, I could use an ally tonight. Perhaps appealing to her motherly side might win me some temporary favour and lessen whatever punishment awaits my transgression.

“I would be better if I were not dragged here in the middle of the night for you,stepdaughter.” She says the word with venom, as if I were nothing but a burden to her. A curse, even. Even with her wild blood-red hair and violet eyes, I would not go as far as to compare her to children’s stories of evil stepmothers. Even still, Imelda has never liked me. I thought once that my father would see her lack of affection towards me and choose another wife, but he seems not to care. Once she had a daughter of her own, she only spoke to me when she had to.

“Surely this could have waited until morning, Father. Her Majesty needs rest and—”

“Perhaps you should have thought of that before you left your bedchambers.” He snaps his fingers, and a Guardian ushers a person into the room in the same manner the Commander had ushered me. At first, I think it’s Jade, and my heart thumps erratically as my mind runs through endless possibilities. Would my father execute him for this?

My heart slows only a moment when the person is forced to their knees in front of the king. It’s not Jade… but Teagan. All too quickly, I know what’s happening. “Let her go!” I plead, but my words fall on deaf ears.

“Do not give me orders, Abilene. You and your maid both know the laws.” My father snaps his fingers again and the Commander strides across the room to my friend. He grabs the back of her white sleeping shift and with a fierce yank, he tears the fabric, exposing her back. Her tanned skin is pristine and unmarked, but I know that won’t last. Not only have I seen this before, I’d lived it.

I don’t need to see her face to sense that she’s crying. Teagan clings to the torn fabric to keep it pulled up over her chest. Unintelligible words pour from her mouth, blocked by a gag of fabric tied tightly around her head. As uncomfortable as it is, at least she will have something to bite down on. My stomach turns at the thought.

“Father, please,” I beg, but he ignores me. This is as much a punishment for her as it is for me.

“How many lashes do you think, Tobias? Eight? Nine?” My father’s musings are almost playful. How can they be enjoying this? I look to my stepmother in desperation, but she has her head turned away. A slight green tinge has washed over her face, and she’s likely wishing she had the authority to get up and leave.

“Ten, I think, Your Majesty.”

“Very good. You may proceed.” While the Commander readies the whip he keeps on him at all times, my father leans forward in his throne to speak directly to Teagan. “I hope the sleep was worth it.”

“You can’t do this!” I cry. Ten lashes for sleeping in my bed—something she’s done on and off for years at my request—is not justice. “I’ll take her lashes!”

The two men ignore my pleas and the first crack of the whip sends a muffled scream echoing through the throne room.

“Stop!”

By the third crack, even the baby wails. Its tiny lungs produce more sound than I could have ever imagined, but still my father does not give the command to stop this.

“Teagan, I’m sorry!” I say, though I know she won’t hear me. Her ears will be ringing by now, temporarily deafened by the whip and her own shrieks. This should be me. This is the truth behind ‘Abilene the Merciful,’ though the cost of a Marked is higher.

When the Commander finally lowers the whip and backs away, Teagan is little more than a crumbled heap of pants and sobs. Her back seeps crimson, the bronze skin broken in ten criss-crossed lines that will never fully heal. Long after the skin closes and the pain recedes, those scars will remain. She may not be a Marked, but sheismarked. This night will follow her. It will haunt her dreams as it will mine, and perhaps now even ever-cheerful Teagan will lose the ability to rest peacefully. She didn’t deserve this, and I have to bite down hard on my lip to stop myself from saying so. It won’t help her now, and I won’t risk making things worse for her.

“Take her,” my father says with a dismissive wave of his hand. A young serving girl skitters to Teagan’s side and eases her up. They move slowly for the exit, and all I can do is watch as the trail of blood droplets behind them grows longer.

“Take her to my room,” I say. When my father doesn’t object, the girl nods once to me. I wait for the image of Teagan to disappear before I slide my gaze back to my father. I work to keep the emotion from my face, but the sting in my eyes must be showing all too clearly.

“Step forward, Abilene.” When I don’t move, his lips flatten into a tight line. “Did you think you would not be punished?”

I thought nothing of the sort. I would have gladly taken Teagan’s lashings in addition to my own because, as horrible as they are, I’ve grown accustomed to this. The Commander reaches for my dress, meaning to tear it in the same way he’d torn Teagan’s, but I slap his hand away. I loosen the ties on the front of my dress and then reach behind me to do the same with the back. I pull the fabric forward, keeping it bunched around my breasts. The Commander has been trying to sneak a peek since my body matured, but I won’t give him the satisfaction.

“How many lashes will it be this time, Father?” I ask, my eyes locked onto his. There’s no hint of remorse in those eyes, nor is there even a flicker of hesitation. If anything, my unwavering gaze seems to have angered him more.

“Ten, just as your maid. Plus another twenty for the Marked.”

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