Forbidden Honor (Dragon Royals #1)(115)

Alis smiled at me, though there was nothing kind in it. “This silly little girl knew where all these incredible magical treasures were stored. But despite best efforts to persuade her, no one could pry those secrets loose. Then she disappeared.”

“I do believe someone hid those treasures away when they hid her memories.” Henrick caressed my lower back, and I jerked away, but couldn’t escape. “It wasn’t a merciful act, but a mercenary one. Someday, they had every intention of claiming those treasures.”

My mouth gaped. “What are you saying?”

“You can be far more useful than being a good little maid, Honor.” She smothered a huff of condescending laughter. “Though knowing you, I cannot imagine you’re much good as a servant, for that matter. You fail at everything you attempt… and yet, I think there are great secrets stored in that ridiculous brain of yours.”

“Is that why you married my father?”

She glanced at Henrick, as if the two of them were sharing a laugh at my expense. “Well, I certainly didn’t marry him because I was so charmed by him and his little snot rags.”

“You always planned this.” My mind reeled, trying to imagine why she’d always shown how much she hated me when she’d been maneuvering close. And the other question, the one I’d carried since I was a child, was why hadn’t Father cast her out the first time she sneered at me? “Why did it take you so long to spring your trap?”

“You’re not the one asking the questions, Honor.” Henrick warned.

“You tricked me into coming here so you could torture me.” The realization made me pull at my bonds all the more fiercely—and helplessly.

Caldren knew where I was. How long would it take Caldren to know I needed him? It would take at least a night before anyone at the academy would miss me, maybe longer because I was always hopping from one bed to another. Desperation clawed at my chest as I realized how long it would be before anyone helped me.

“There was no trick,” Henrick said. “Of course we knew Hanna would come running to you to fix everything, but if you didn’t, then she would have received her appropriate due portion. Sooner or later, you would’ve stormed in here and begged us to hurt you—and now, when you babble your nonsense about what we did to you, no one will believe we tortured you to undo the enchantment.”

“Nothing we do will hurt you more than the law allows,” Alis sniffed. “After all, no harm can come to the royal dragons’ current favorite cum-vessel… though I doubt that attachment will last long.”

Tears filled my eyes. Father had brought this monster into our lives, and it felt like a betrayal, but he must have had a reason. “Why did he marry you?”

“Because I figured out who you were, my dear,” she said, “and he wanted to make sure you were always protected.

“Did you hurt him?”

She turned to Henrick. “She has always been convinced that I’m such a monster.”

“Well, I can see why she might have that position at the moment.” Henrick sounded amused, in contrast to Alis’s sharp tension.

I couldn’t see them behind me, but my every sense was keenly attuned to Henrick’s movements. I heard him take the whip, heard the clink when Alis set the tray on the table.

I wrenched down on my lower lip. I still wasn’t sure they had the right person. They were going to torture me for my secrets, and I wasn’t going to give anything away.

The whip whispered across the marble floor. Every muscle in my body tensed, waited, trembled from how tightly I was holding together.

Pain ignited across my back the second before I heard the snap. I didn’t scream. Then again, and again, then he paused.

My chin was wet. It took me a second to realize I’d bitten down so hard on my lip it was bleeding.

My hands were tied above me, my wrists raw from struggling, and my face was wet…

It was the briefest flash of memory. I tried to hang on to it, but it was gone.

“Do you remember?” Alis demanded.

“Patience.” Henrick’s footsteps retreated, the two of them leaving me there.

My back burnt as if it were on fire. The sense of their eyes watching me was acute, and I twisted to try to see them. The movement made it feel as if my back were splitting open worse, and my stomach twisted as if I were going to puke.

Henrick took a step forward, and I steeled myself. I wouldn’t scream no matter what they did to me.

But the lash fell relentlessly, every blow burning through my skin, shredding the muscle beneath. There was no holding back the grunt of pain that burst from my lungs.

When I started to scream, I started to remember. It was just a flicker at first. My voice, shriller, higher in my screams than it was now, echoed in my ears.

My skirts were wet. For a second, I was afraid I’d wet myself, and the memory of my bladder releasing, of shame flooding me even as I sobbed, rose like bile in the back of my throat. But it was blood. Blood trickled down my lower back and soaked my skirt.

I tried to remember my first parents doing this to me. The harder I tried to form their faces, the more a memory rose of faceless humans, the sense of people leering. Then slowly, the memory resolved into a blur of strangers’ faces loomed above me. A glimpse of armor. Knights.

A patient, calm voice: “How did you reach your parents’ hoard? Did you walk, fly, take a carriage? Surely you can tell us such a simple thing…”