Winter Queen(12)

No, better to wait until the Council intervened.

A stable boy came for Darrien’s horse. Cowering as if expecting a slap, the boy took the reins.

Darrien jerked his thumb toward her. “Boy! Get me the soaked strap.”

The boy cringed and ran.

Ilyenna felt her face drain of blood. Soaked strap?

Gripping her arm, Darrien steered her toward a tall pole. At the top, a rope dangled from a metal ring that had been driven into the wood. A beating pole—reserved for punishing thieves, abusers, and drunkards.

She clenched her jaw. “What have I done to deserve a beating?”

Darrien stopped at the base of the pole. “Will you tell me the secret of your power?”

She pursed her lips. “Winter fairies healed me.”

He snorted. “I want the truth, not children’s fairy tales.” He stepped closer. “Will you marry me?”

“You swore,” she whispered.

“I swore not to marry you unless you were willing. I’ll not force you, Ilyenna. But I’ll beat you for refusing to submit to my will. What is your answer?”

“Undon swore I’d not be beaten.”

Darrien leaned forward and whispered, “No, Ilyenna. He promised he wouldn’t beat you. He said nothing about anyone else.”

They’d tricked her. Terror coursed through her body. “No. He couldn’t have meant this.”

“And you’re going to appeal to him, are you? Because then I might just have to remember exactly who killed my father’s favorite son.”

She shuddered. Darrien had her trapped, and they both knew it. Ghosts of the coming horrors danced in her mind.

He wrapped her wrists with the rope that dangled from the topmost metal ring. “A good tiam submits to her master in all things. It may take time, but I will teach you how to be a good tiam.” He finished the knot. “You should’ve killed me, Ilyenna.”

She looked him in the eye. “Give me another chance. I won’t make the mistake again.”

He chuckled. “You have to decide, are you a healer or a killer?”

“I killed your brother.” As soon as Ilyenna said it, she knew she’d made a mistake.

Darrien’s eyes shimmered with pain that had twisted into hatred. “So you did. Perhaps we’re more alike than you thought.”

The stable boy came running, warily holding a strap that dripped what looked like watered-down milk, but the way it made Ilyenna’s nose sting was unmistakable. The strap had been soaked in lye. It would cause tremendous pain and discomfort without leaving scars. She’d be lucky to abide clothes for days.

Tears burned in her eyes. “I’m nothing like you.” But as she said it, she wondered if she was really all that different. Hammoth had reached out to keep her from falling, been reluctant to hurt her, and she hadn’t even hesitated to shove her knife under his ribs.

A crowd had begun to gather. By the knots on their belts, most were Tyrans. But there were also a good number she recognized as Argons—mostly women who wore despondency like a shroud. So, Undon had taken Argons as tiams too. Ilyenna searched for someone she might recognize. Her gaze landed on Narium, Rone’s mother and clan mistress for the Argons.

They’d taken two clan mistresses? It was unthinkable. Her mind tried to make Narium into someone else, but her eyes refused to lie.

Upon recognizing Ilyenna, Narium gasped and whispered to another woman. The woman took off running. Narium straightened and their gazes locked. Sorrow and fear twisted the older woman’s features.

Ilyenna tried to keep her emotions from her face, to stop her knees from shaking.

How many feast days have our clans spent together? she silently asked the other clan mistress. How many times have I supped beneath your roof, and you ours? How could it come to this? What about Seneth and Rone? Are they even alive?

Ilyenna’s eyes fluttered shut. Rone.

Darrien jerked a knife from its sheath and held it in his teeth. He moved aside her mussed hair, then nicked the back of her dress and jerked it down, baring her back. She felt the cool air against her skin. Bare skin everyone could see. Humiliated, she tried to concentrate on how her flesh felt—whole and hale. She felt no pain. She needed to hold onto that feeling so she didn’t cry out when the beating began.

She sensed him pull back the strap. With a slap, it connected with her back. Every muscle in her body clenched in protest. A scream tore at her throat. She forced it down. Only a grunt clawed its way free. She felt lye running down her back like liquid fire.

The strap hit her again. And again. And again. After the fifteenth time, Ilyenna’s legs gave out. She would’ve collapsed to the ground if her hands weren’t tied over her head.

With each blow, her flesh swelled and blistered. Too tired to fight, she whimpered softly each time the strap struck her back. Soon, she lost track of the number of hits. Her mouth ached for water.

Then a wonderful thing happened. The strap didn’t hurt anymore. Ilyenna floated in a space between consciousness and awareness. Her head dangled like a ripe piece of fruit from a tree.

“You’ll kill her!” someone cried.

Darrien didn’t even slow.

Somewhere, from far away, she thought she heard a man say, “You want her to live in order to break her?”

The strap stopped. How many times had he hit her? Thirty? Fifty?

Darrien grunted. “You’re right. Anymore, and she’ll bear scars.” He lifted her chin with his finger. She tried in vain to open her eyes. “Perhaps next time I ask, you’ll be a bit more obedient.” Her chin dropped back to her chest. She felt her tormenter step back and heard him say, “Tiams, clean this up.”

Ilyenna was suddenly surrounded by hands—hands that worked the ropes free, hands that guided her gently to the ground. Water sloshed across her back. Her eyes fluttered open. Faces surrounded her, faces she vaguely knew. Narium was there. Three more buckets of water were poured on her back.

The cool water soothed the burning in her skin. Far above the people surrounding her, she saw swirls of color. Colors that shifted and twirled. “It’s the fairies,” she whispered. “They’ve come back.”

Narium leaned directly over her, blocking her view of the fairies. “How long since he gave you anything to drink?”

Ilyenna tried to focus through the agony. “Not since this morning,” she croaked.

Moments later, water met her lips. She gripped the waterskin, chugging greedily. Fingers pried her hands away. “Too much and your stomach will sick up,” a female voice said.

The burning from the lye seemed to redouble. Ilyenna cried softly.

Another face suddenly joined the others. Rone.

“No!” he cried. “Not her too!”

His beard had grown a little shaggier than the clan’s usual close-cropped style. Dark circles lined his eyes like bruises. But he was alive. Ilyenna gasped in relief.

Rone cursed. “What did he do to her?” He gently took her battered body into his arms. She locked her wrists around his neck as he ran. This was not the first time they’d met this way, not the first time he’d carried her to safety.

“He beat her with a soaked strap,” Narium said as she ran at his side. “Deprived her of food and water. By how shaky she is, I think he ran her, too.”

I’d hoped to have hidden that, Ilyenna thought miserably.

Rone glanced down at her and managed a tight smile. “Stubborn, were you?”

She shook her head and immediately regretted it. “I refused to marry him.”

Rone’s eyes widened and he cursed again. They entered the edge of the forest. Ilyenna heard swiftly running water. Splashing in, Rone sank down with her in his arms.

It felt so deliciously cool, soothing the heat and swelling. But only Rone’s firm grip kept her from bolting. She couldn’t swim, and water any deeper than her knees brought up memories. Memories of the river bouncing her along. Memories of seeing the sky through a window of ice—ice she’d clawed at until each and every one of her fingernails had ripped off.

“I’ve got you.” Rone tightened his hold around her. He understood better than anyone her fear of water. She held on, afraid the river would tear her away from him. He pressed his cheek against her forehead. “I’m not going to let go.”

“Take that shirt off,” Narium ordered Rone. Even as she said it, she started untying Ilyenna’s clan belt.

Rone gently untangled her hands from his neck. “It’s only waist deep. See?”

She opened her eyes long enough to discover it was true.

“You’ll be all right?”

Too overwhelmed to speak, she nodded again.

He backed away and watched her for a moment, then jerked his shirt off and began scrubbing his already red arms.

“Downstream.” Narium pointed.

Rone glanced at Ilyenna, who now wore only her underdress. He turned and hurried away. “If Darrien comes back, call me,” he shouted.

Narium shook her head. “And have your pretty little head end up on the sharp end of a halberd? I think not.” As she spoke, she kept pouring water over Ilyenna’s back.

Several Argon women came running.

“Wash the lye from her dress,” Narium said.

The other women went to scrubbing Ilyenna’s dress or busied themselves scouring every bit of lye residue from her skin before it could do more damage.