Ash Princess (Ash Princess Trilogy #1)(83)
My hair is plastered to my forehead with sweat, despite the cold. The room is still, the jeers and shouts from the audience falling silent—at least to me. Nothing exists outside of my body, outside of this pain that I know will consume me.
My name is Theodosia Eirene Houzzara, Queen of Astrea, and I will endure this.
The whip cracks again and I feel it all the way to my toes. My arms ache from the guards’ grip. I can’t stand up, can’t stand tall the way my mother would have wanted me to. All I can do is scream and cry.
My name is Theodosia Eirene Houzzara, Queen of Astrea.
Another crack that bites through skin and muscle and bone. Another wound that will never heal.
My name is Theodosia Eirene Houzzara.
The next one hits my spine, sending a wave of shock that makes my whole body spasm. The guards don’t loosen their grip, so I only hurt myself worse.
My name is Theodosia.
Lost count now. It will never end. The guards release me and I fall to the hard floor in a huddle as another blow hits.
My name is…
My name is…
I focus on the tiles beneath my feet. I took my first steps on these tiles, my mother’s hand clasped tightly around mine to keep me up. If I concentrate hard enough, I can almost feel her now, urging me to be strong, promising me that it will be over soon.
My name is…
One of the tiles is cracked. Unsurprising, considering how old they are and how little care the Kalovaxians take. But as I stare at the tiles and the Theyn brings the whip down again, another tile splinters, thin cracks bursting out from the center like spider’s legs.
I am imagining things. It isn’t the first time the pain has gone to my head. But even as I think it, I know it isn’t in my head.
I look up, past the gathered courtiers to the back of the room where my Shadows watch, their faces hidden by drawn hoods. Blaise. Energy pours off him in waves, though no one else seems to notice.
Even in the shadow of his hood, I can make out the green of his eyes, locked onto mine. He’s struggling to hold back, but it’s a struggle he’s losing. Artemisia and Heron are trying to calm him, but it isn’t any good, he’s about to erupt.
I do the only thing I can: I meet his gaze and hold it, even as the whip bites into my back again. I’m not sure if he’s soothing me or I’m soothing him, but the tenuous tie between us feels like all that’s keeping either of us alive, and I don’t dare break it.
WHEN IT’S OVER, THE KAISER and the courtiers file out, leaving me crumpled on the bloody floor. My Shadows wait in the back of the room, unsure what to do, but Ion makes his way toward me the way he always does, his Air magic making his steps light and soundless.
I can’t help but flinch when he crouches down next to me and his cold, dry hand comes to rest on my back where most of the blows hit, sending a wave of pain so strong it makes me dizzy. I clench my fists, digging my nails into my palms to stay alert, and chew hard on my lip to keep from screaming. The pain only lasts a second before his power begins to seep through me, sealing the wounds. The skin of my back feels like ice.
When Ion removes his hand, the wounds still hurt, but it isn’t enough to incapacitate me. With a shuddering breath, I struggle to my feet, wincing as I do. It’ll be another few days and a few doses of the salve Ion gives Hoa before the pain goes away completely.
The pain is less when I’m hunched over, but I force my shoulders back and stand up tall. Ion still doesn’t look at me, but the hate simmering in my stomach refuses to be ignored. It’s only my Shadows who can see us, so I do what I’ve wanted to for ten years.
I touch his shoulder so that he has to look at me, dark eyes empty and numb.
“Your ancestors are watching you from the After with shame,” I bite out in Astrean, relishing his shocked expression. “When your days are over, they will not let you in.”
I turn away from him before he can respond. I doubt he’ll tell the Kaiser—he’ll assume my Shadows will.
I hasten to close the back of my nightgown as I walk, wincing when the cotton brushes against the tender wounds and sticks to the blood that paints my back. The nightgown was white when I put it on, but now most of it has been stained red.
My Shadows fall in behind me as I leave the throne room. They don’t touch me and I don’t want them to. I’ll break if they do, crumble to pieces like my ersatz crown. I am a princess made of ashes, after all. I can’t help but fall apart.
Walking back to my room takes almost three times as long as it should, because each step makes my whole body ache and every few seconds I stumble. Once, Heron catches me by my elbow before remembering the role he’s playing. I have to stop myself from leaning on him.
Hoa is waiting in my room with a bowl of hot water, rags, and bandages ready. She won’t look at me, but she always has trouble after my punishments—sometimes I could swear they hurt her even more than they hurt me, though I’m not sure how that’s possible.
The silence is almost a comfort as she washes the new wounds and dresses them with the ointment Ion gave her. It’s nearly as painful as the whip itself, but when it’s over the pain has dulled to a constant thrum. With guarded tenderness, she washes the blood from the rest of my skin and my hair before dressing me in a fresh nightgown. She knows by now that I won’t be wearing anything else today. Or tomorrow, more than likely. I wince as the fabric brushes my back, and her hand lingers for a brief second on my shoulder. She turns to go.