Page 12 of A Kingdom's Heart
I said nothing. There was nothing left to say.
He stopped a few paces in front of me. “On your knees,” he ordered.
The room fell silent. Even the torches seemed to stop flickering.
My stomach turned cold. I knew what was coming. I had known since I first stepped through the doors.
I closed my eyes and drew in a slow breath. My hands trembled as I lowered myself. The chill of the stone bit through the thin fabric at my knees. I pressed my palms flat against the stone, trying to steady them.
The sound of his footsteps came closer. Then silence.
And then pain.
The strike landed hard across my face. My head snapped to the side, and white heat burst behind my eyes. I did not cry out. I would not give him that.
The sting spread, sharp and deep, from my cheek down to my jaw. My breath came unsteady, the taste of iron at the edge of my tongue.
For a moment, I stayed there, motionless, my eyes closed. The humiliation burned hotter than the pain. I could feel every gaze inthe room pressing down on me: the guards, courtiers, Raven. All of them witnesses to my disgrace.
“Open your eyes,” my father said.
I obeyed. My cheek throbbed as I lifted my head. The room wavered slightly, the torchlight blurring around the edges of my vision.
He stared down at me, his expression carved from stone. “As
your punishment, you will assist the healer for the next several weeks. You will tend wounds, clean the infirmary, and remember what it means to serve this kingdom rather than defy it.”
My throat tightened, but I forced the words out. “Yes, Father.”
He turned slightly, his voice colder still. “Get out of my sight.”
I rose slowly, careful not to meet his eyes again. My legs felt weak and the skin of my face still burned where his hand had struck.
“Raven,” he said, without looking her way. “Take her with you.”
Raven stepped forward at once. She bowed her head to the king, then gently reached for my arm. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
I let her guide me toward the doors. The guards opened them without a word, and we stepped out into the corridor. The heavy wood closed behind us with a dull thud that echoed through the stone hall.
The moment we were out of sight, Raven exhaled sharply. “Saints, Iris. Are you alright?”
The question barely reached me at first. The air felt different out there. Cooler, thinner, almost clean after the suffocating weight of the throne room. I swallowed, my throat raw.
A short, bitter laugh escaped before I could stop it. “Do I look alright?”
Raven frowned, her eyes softening. “No. You have a nosebleed.”
“Of course I do,” I muttered, swiping my sleeve across my face. The fabric came away streaked with red. The sting in my cheek pulsed with every heartbeat.
Raven sighed and reached into the pouch at her side. She pulled out a folded cloth and pressed it gently into my hand. “Here. hold that.”
I took it, pressing it against my nose. The cool fabric helped a little.
“Well,” she said after a moment, her tone lighter but not unkind, “looks like you’re stuck with me for the next few days.”
I glanced at her, the corner of my mouth lifting slightly. “Looks like I am.”
Raven tilted her head toward the hallway. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up before we go to the healer’s wing.”
