Page 60 of A Storm of Fire and Ash
My ears began to ring, Fintan’s words now inaudible, as the realization hit me. He wasn’t going to give Fintan twenty lashes… he was going to givemetwenty lashes.
Fintan’s eyes widened in horror, the color draining from his face. With a surge of adrenaline, he lunged at theKing, rage seething within him as he wrapped his hands around his father’s throat.
“You son of a bitch!” he shouted. His hands were only there for a second before he was pulled away, his voice trembling with emotion. “You are nothing but a coward! You cannot do this! Punish me, not her! She did nothing wrong!” The words erupted from him, fueled by desperation and a fierce sense of injustice. But two of the King’s guards held the Prince by the shoulders, while another kicked his legs out from underneath him and held him by his hair.
“You will bow to me, and watch your whore get punished for your crimes and her own.” The King spat. Fintan now knelt on the ground before his father. The King was making a mockery out of him.
“Your Majesty, surely you wouldn’t want me to actually whip her? She is just a foolish, helpless girl,” Gavrin said, his voice laced slightly with uncertainty. His dark skin almost seemed to pale.
“Are you disobeying your King, Gavrin?” The chilling voice of the King pierced the air.
“No, your highness. Of course not. I meant no disrespect,” Gavrin quickly replied, a trace of panic flickered in his eye. As he promptly looked at me, I could sense his apprehension. He didn’t want to do this.
“Good. Bastion, hand Gavrin the whip,” the King commanded, turning his gaze to one of his men who stood nearby, gripping the weapon tightly.
The whip was a long, menacing instrument; its black leather flashed ominously. The sight made me shudder;Silver.The tips of the whip, coated in silver, shimmered like a deadly promise. I swallowed hard, knowing that I would not heal from this like a Fae, but like a human.
Gavrin took the whip from him. A pained expression laced his face.
Fintan began fighting with the three guards. He managed to get to his feet and knocked out one of the guards who was holding him. Another guard appeared. Fintan’s face was now bloodied as they threw him to the ground and relentlessly hit and kicked him.
“Stop! Please, just stop!” I cried out, my voice trembled with desperation as I watched the scene unfold before me. Panic surged within me, tightening my chest like an iron grip. Every punch Fintan took felt like a dagger to my heart. I wanted to shield him, protect him, as he had done for me.
The King nodded to more guards. I didn’t even know where they came from, but suddenly it was five against one. They beat the Prince as he fought back, but he was no match against that many trained men. They beat him mercilessly; each blow aimed for precision until he was knocked out from one hit to his temple with the pommel of their sword.
I cried out and went to run to him, but Gavrin grabbed my arm.
“Let go!” I pleaded. But the look in Gavrin’s eye told me not to speak or move another muscle. I knew he didn’t want to actually hurt me and was protecting my fate from the King.
I wouldn’t forget their faces—not for a moment. Every sneer, every cold stare, every twisted smile they had was burned into my memory like brands on flesh. I had etched them there deliberately, so I’d never lose sight of what they did. One day, they would answer for it all.
They would get what they deserve.
“You disrespect me, in MY kingdom,” the King spat on Fintan’s face as he lay out-cold on the ground, “and there will be severe consequences.” He raised his arms and called out so everyone could hear. More people started to gather as two of his men walked over to me with handcuffs. “This WHORE,” he looked at me with such repulsion, “willreceive twenty lashes for trying to murder one of my guards—”
I made another mistake and cut off the King. “What?! No! I wasn’t—”
“SILENCE!” He smacked me so hard, my head snapped to the side as I fell to the ground. Blood dripped from my mouth.
My head started to buzz.
“Elara! Stop. Do not speak another word, or you will make this worse for yourself!”
Makar. His presence was a whisper in my mind, and I had unwittingly granted him entry. The weight of his influence made it difficult to concentrate on maintaining my mental defenses.“Look at me, and me only,”he urged, his voice a compelling siren call.
I scanned my surroundings, and there, partially concealed behind the rough-hewn wooden post that the King’s men had just erected, stood Makar. His figure stood tall, and I focused on his hazel eyes.
The King’s voice faded into an indistinct murmur, drowned out by the frantic beating of my heart as I felt the cold metal of the cuffs clamped around my wrist. For a fleeting moment, a wave of relief washed over me when I realized they were not coated in silver, which would have seared my skin like fire and blown my cover. Instead, these were made of a dull, iron-like material, smooth but heavy, and I could feel the familiar chill seeping into my flesh.
Two sets of strong hands dragged me through the dirt. I tried to fight them off, but Makar whispered,“Stop, Elara. Do not fight them, please. Just look at me, okay? Only me.”
My arms were forced around the wooden pole as they cuffed my wrists together. Instinctively, I tried to pull to free myself, but the cuffs bit into my skin.
“Be brave, little one.”A deep voice grumbled in my head, vibrating my body to the core.
I looked at Makar, but I knew that wasn’t his voice. I blocked him out but let the other one in.
“Who is this?”I thought to myself.
