Invaded (Alienated, #2)(47)
“Stepha, please,” Syrine whispered. “Aelyx is repentant. Perhaps you can spare him the iphet. The Way doesn’t have to know you waived his penalty. I won’t tell anyone.”
Aelyx expected the ambassador to chide her for suggesting such a crime, but he didn’t. Instead, Stepha studied them for several minutes, never initiating Silent Speech—just watching. When at last he spoke, his voice was eerily calm. “I’m not going to administer a Reckoning.” He leaned forward and took the iphet in his hands, then turned it over, inspecting the deceptively delicate wiry rod attached to its handle. He held it toward Syrine. “You are.”
Syrine brought a hand to her breast. “Me?” She shook her head so fiercely her ponytail escaped its clasp. “I can’t! Please, if you consid—”
“I believe you mistook my order for a request.” Stepha tossed the iphet onto the table, where it rolled toward the sofa. He locked eyes with Aelyx but chose to speak aloud. “Do you see how your insubordinate actions have corrupted this girl? In defense of your treachery, she has proposed a lie by omission—seeking to deceive The Way, whom she has sworn to obey in all things. Do you see how your poor example has led her astray?”
“Yes,” Aelyx said, offering a silent prayer to the Sacred Mother that Stepha would reconsider. Syrine didn’t deserve this. “And I’m deeply sorry.”
“In the end, rebellion hurts us all.” Stepha showed no signs of relenting. “Syrine will deliver your Reckoning and share in your anguish, to teach you that everyone suffers when you defy The Way.” Without moving an inch, he glanced at the iphet. “She will administer twenty strokes.”
“Twenty?” Syrine cried. “But that’s a dozen more than—”
“Twenty-five,” Stepha corrected. “You may begin at your leisure.”
Syrine clenched her fists, but she didn’t argue. Aelyx knew her well enough to imagine she was punishing herself for adding five lashes to his penalty. He couldn’t let Syrine assume the blame. This wasn’t her fault.
He claimed the iphet and handed it to her. When their eyes met, he said, Don’t be afraid. I’ve been through this so many times I barely feel it anymore. You won’t hurt me.
Of course she knew he was lying, but she nodded and took the handle in her trembling fingers. Aelyx showed her how to power it on, then removed his shirt and knelt in front of the sofa, resting his folded hands atop the cushion.
“I’m ready,” he told her.
She positioned herself behind him, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. She began to speak but must have thought better of it, because the next thing Aelyx knew, she’d struck him directly between the shoulder blades.
Aelyx tasted the electricity before he felt it, but the sting quickly followed. His muscles clenched, skin burning as the stench of singed flesh filled his nose. She struck again and then again in quick succession. Sweat beaded across Aelyx’s brow. His lungs ached to cry out, but he gritted his teeth and refused to make a sound. He wouldn’t burden Syrine with the knowledge of his pain.
On and on it went. The sickening zap of the lash echoed against the high ceilings, punctuated by Syrine’s wet sobs. Once she reached twenty strokes, Stepha told her to stop.
“Are you contrite, brother?” Stepha asked.
Aelyx couldn’t speak, so he nodded. He’d never felt so contrite in his life. Black spots danced in his line of vision, and he knew he’d never make it back to his room. With limbs weaker than onionskin, he pushed away from the sofa and lay on the carpet, letting the air flow freely over his lacerated back.
After the ambassador retired to the master suite, Syrine knelt by Aelyx’s side. She dabbed medicated salve on his burns and whispered “I’m sorry” a hundred times. He wanted to tell her this wasn’t the kind of apology he’d wanted, but those dancing black spots merged into one, and he surrendered to oblivion.
The next morning, Aelyx awoke facedown on his bed, unsure of how he’d made it there. He squinted against the early sunlight and discovered Syrine on the floor beside his mattress, fast asleep with an open bottle of salve in hand. Before he had a chance to whisper her name, she blinked awake, as if sensing him.
She sat up and flashed a palm, her eyes reddened by tears. “Don’t move. I added another layer to your fahren wrap an hour ago. I need to wash it off.”
Syrine rushed to the bathroom and returned with several damp towels. When she placed the first on Aelyx’s back, he held his breath and braced for the pain, but all he felt was warm moisture. He relaxed at once.
“Okay?” she asked, blotting his skin. “Is this too hard?”
“I barely feel a thing. What did you do to me?”
While removing the dried salve from his back, she whispered, “I gave you two analgesic injections and a healing accelerant. The fahren wrap is cosmetic, so you won’t scar.”
Those medicines were hard to find on Earth. “Where did you get all of that?”
“Easy,” she said. “I liberated the medic kit from Stepha’s suite after he fell asleep.”
Grinning, Aelyx glanced at her over his shoulder. “I truly have corrupted you.”
Syrine didn’t return his smile. Her eyes welled with fresh tears as she dried his skin and smoothed on a final layer of ointment. “He never said I couldn’t heal you. Technically, I haven’t disobeyed him.”