Page 87 of Ruled By Magic

Leo’s conversation with his brother seemed less formal and stilted. The hours they’d spent hashing out the treaty must have loosened things up between them.

The crowd parted before the prince. Conversations died as Atarans stared at our group, eyes wide. The room held a mixture of men in outfits similar to Adante’s—though not as elaborate—and uniformed soldiers, a large military contingent. Very few women were present, besides a few serving girls. Atar allowed few foreign visitors, so we’d be an oddity, something to talk about. Sick fear rose in my chest. There were so many people.

A raised dais filled the end of the room. It held a wooden post with handholds in the center. Two rows of chairs faced the stage—empty, with a large press of bodies behind them. People melted out of the prince’s way as he waved our party to the front row of seats. I took a chair for once, to the left of Leo. Adante seated himself on Leo’s right, gesturing to a burly man in uniform.

“Will the king be joining us?” asked Leo.

The prince shook his head. “No. His doctors have advised him to rest.”

The burly man raised a hand, and silence spread in ripples through the throng. I glanced back and regretted it. A solid wall of people pressed against the chairs: military to one side, civilians on the other. The man—the sergeant, I assumed—addressed the crowd.

“Welcome, all. At the request of His Highness, I’ll get right on with tonight’s business. This evening, we have two parties paying the price for brawling.” The military end of the room cheered and whistled. The sergeant held up a hand for quiet again. “First up, Private Celtar of Victus platoon.” More cheering.

The man Hex fought stepped forward. He stripped off his uniform shirt and placed his hands on the highest handhold of the post in a practiced way. A few faint scars lined his back.

The sergeant picked up a whip that made me suck in a breath. I squeezed Hex’s knee. Long, with a single knotted tail, it looked designed to destroy. Celtar braced, and the sergeant brought it down with a powerful stroke. Celtar winced. His skin split, and a bright red welt appeared.

“Fucking hell,” muttered Hex.

Another man stepped up, replacing Celtar. The spectacle repeated over and over until I counted thirty men. The crowd lost interest after the first few, resuming their conversations, no longer cheering.

As the last soldier left the stage, Adante rose and strode to the front of the dais. Instant quiet blanketed the room, and the mood changed, growing tense. The throng bent into bows which I copied, awkward from my seated position. Leo remained upright.

“You may rise.” Adante stood stiff, unsmiling. He didn’t appear to enjoy taking center stage. “Lord Commander, stand beside me, please.”

With a sigh audible only to me, Leo joined the prince. His classic outfit—a well-tailored dinner jacket, bow tie, and red shirt—looked sensible, boring even, compared to the Ataran finery. Showmanlike as ever, he smiled and raised a hand in greeting to the crowd. “I’m grateful for the opportunity to visit, Your Highness, and for the generous hospitality you’ve shown.”

Adante nodded. “It’s been a pleasure. Over to you.” He withdrew to the side of the stage.

Leo’s smile remained, and amusement rippled through his voice. “Step forward, girls.”

I jolted. This was it. I clutched Hex’s hand and we got to our feet. Her fingers trembled. The crowd broke out in whispers as we stepped onto the dais. Someone whistled.

A servant entered, bowed to Leo, and handed him a cane with a theatrical flourish. Long, thin, and made of flexible wood. How bad would it sting?

My legs struggled to hold me. I hadn’t prepared for the size of the audience or the effect it would have on me. The murmurs blurred together into a menacing cacophony. A living, sinister thing.

“Fuck this,” Hex whispered, voice shaky. I squeezed her hand, trying to share bravery I didn’t have. I focused on Leo, tried to ground myself in him, but he was playing his role. Unconcerned, amused. He loved the spotlight. Was he looking forward to punishing me? A tendril of desire awakened at the thought. He fed off the energy of crowds.

He caught my eye, but his expression didn’t change.

Leo gestured to the post. “Who’s first?” He twisted the cane experimentally, as though testing the weight of it. He’d never used one before. I hoped he got the hang of it fast.

With a deep breath in and out, Hex stepped forward as we’d discussed. Leo positioned her with brief, businesslike touches—bent at the waist, hands halfway down the post. He locked her in place with magic. Hex’s face twisted in horror as the blue bands took hold. Everything would be so much worse for her. Terrifying, unwelcome, and new. The fear and shame on her face tore at my heart.

Leo used his magic to flip up her skirt, revealing her white cotton briefs. I’d suggested the magic—less intimate, less embarrassing—but the crowd still laughed, and Hex’s face contorted in rage. She’d hated Leo before, but she’d never want to look at him again after this. I glanced at our group. Their faces mirrored my discomfort.

The first strike fell with a whoosh, followed by a crack. Hex’s body jerked, but she didn’t yell out, jaw set in grim determination. Fourteen more to go. An absurdly high number. It felt wrong, seeing Hex so shamed. I watched Leo instead. He worked in a detached, clinical way, each strike controlled and evenly spaced. Was this turning him on? It must call to his built-in desires. An off-kilter mix of irrational jealousy and fear roiled in my stomach.

Hex cried out. The crowd cheered.

Bastards.

Tears streaked Hex’s face. Her resolve broke, and she yelled with every hit. The cane must be landing on sore skin. Tears pricked my eyes. It wasn’t right.

Leo brought the cane down one last time with a flourish. Hex screamed, then sagged in relief. She must have kept count.

“I’m going to release you now,” Leo warned, and the bonds disappeared.

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