Page 54 of A Pact of Blood

Not to mention inflaming any suspicions he still harbors about my interest in his foster brothers.

This is the best way forward, even if it’s horrible.

Still, when the metal disc is glowing and I can’t put off the task any longer, my gut churns so hard I have to grit my teeth against the urge to vomit. I lift the rod, tensing my muscles to keep my arms as steady as possible, and step toward the princes.

Lorenzo is first in line, Inganne’s sigil showing in the middle of his chest, even darker than his deep brown skin. His gaze follows me as I approach with the searing tool.

When I’m close enough that my body will block part of Marclinus’s view of his body, the prince of Rione twists one hand in a few small, fleeting movements.

I belong to you.

All at once, I’m choked up for a completely different reason. He’s taking this act of possession and making it a bond between us rather than between him and the empire I represent.

As if somehow the agony I’m about to put him through could be a gesture of love.

A renewed swell of affection stokes my courage. Through the racing of my pulse, I clamp my jaw and press the brand forward.

The sizzle of it against Lorenzo’s skin makes my nerves jump so badly I almost flinch. Only the thought of how much worse I could hurt him if I lose my grip holds me in place.

Lorenzo gasps, and I jerk the brand back.

The sickly smell of burnt flesh trickles through the air. The brand mark shows as a ruddy near-black shape on Lorenzo’s chest.

He rocks into a sitting position, his expression taut. I blink away the tears that prick at my eyes as hastily as I can.

Marclinus speaks with no detectable emotion. “Verygood. I knew you had it in you. Get the brand nice and hot again and then proceed.”

It takes all my will and the deepest well of calm inside me to keep my hatred off my face as I carry out his command. Raul waits for me without a hint of concern in his expression, though his pale eyes smolder with everything he can’t say.

I can only imagine how much rage he’s tamping down, both at the humiliation aimed at them and the agony it’s putting me through in turn. Marclinus could never imagine being as strong as these three men have needed to become under his vicious rule.

When I’m poised to go through with the act, Raul gives the same discreet, silent message he must have seen Lorenzo offer.I belong to you.

For all the signal might be an attempt to reassure me, the process is no easier with him. Even the toughest of the princes can’t hold back a grunt at the hissing impact of the brand.

By the time I’m approaching Bastien, my head feels as if it’s detached from my body. I can’t let myself sink into my queasiness or horror too deeply, or it’ll all spill out of me.

Bastien meets me with his back rigid and the same gesture as his foster brothers.I belong to you.

My husband could never be capable of such true devotion either.

Fresh tears well in my eyes. I force myself to press the brand forward.

Bastien’s face twitches, what little color his already sallow skin contains draining from it. At his stifled cry, I wrench the brand away.

A tremble runs through my limbs. There. It’s done.

Please, let this be the end of it.

Marclinus retrieves the rod from me and douses thebrazier. “Nicely done, wife. You’re every bit as strong as I expected. Foster brothers, you may go.”

As he turns to set down the brand, I aim a hasty motion of my fingers at the other men.Meet me in the room below.

I hope I’ve conveyed my meaning well enough. I have to dosomethingto offset the pain I’ve unwillingly inflicted on them.

They trudge out of the room, and Marclinus aims one of his sharp smiles at me.

What really provoked this cruelty? Could his suspicions have been renewed by my interrupting Lorenzo’s performance?

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