Balfor's Salvation Page 14

  Her voice was much lower when she spoke again and there was a quaver to her words. “Why didn’t you tell me about the concubines?” Even though fear now cooled her anger, the hurt remained. She had to know why he’d lied to her. She had to find out if she’d really been so wrong about him.

  Her softer tone did not soothe him in the least. “They are none of your business.”

  Stacia felt as if he’d slapped her, though if he struck her in the mood he was in, she doubted she’d actually survive it. She no longer doubted that he was capable of hurting her. Her safety with him had been a silly fantasy based on a lie he perpetrated. In fact, he’d already wounded her deeply without laying a hand on her. “So you aren’t going to release your claim on them? You’re going to keep them as your concubines?”

  “I have already answered this. They are none of your business.” He stepped towards her, and she backed up until she was teetering on the edge of the hot spring. Only then did he stop, though he was so close that he loomed over her. She could feel the heat of his body and smell the scent that usually affected all of her senses. Now the way her body automatically responded to it only added to her crushing sense of loss. “Know this; I will not release your claim, or theirs, until I wish to. But there will be consequences for your childish ranting.”

  The expression of smug arrogance that crossed his face snapped Stacia’s control. Fear gave way to fury. Without thought, she slapped him. The action must have surprised him, because he made no move to stop it, and she had no doubt he could have. Her palm made a resounding connection with his hard jaw that sent pain shooting down her arm.

  The horrified shouts of alarm from the crowd stilled into dead silence. The air hung heavy with tension. Balfor’s eyes were wide, and his snarl dropped away as his mouth gaped with shock and disbelief. He slowly lifted his hand and touched his face where she’d struck him. No one around them moved.

  Stacia watched Balfor as fear returned in full measure, paralyzing her. The realization that she’d gone way beyond overstepping her bounds settled in on her, pushing aside her own state of shock. The last time she was this afraid was when her helmet had malfunctioned and she found herself face-to-face with an adurian warrior who ripped off half her jaw.

  His eyes narrowed on her, and his jaw tightened, closing his mouth with an audible snap of sharp teeth, which were concealed by the straight line of his firm lips. Balfor took a step away from her, then another. Before he turned his back on her, she imagined she saw a fleeting look of regret cross his face. Stacia glanced around, looking for Lilith. Her best friend was beside a chair, but when Stacia met her eyes, Lilith rushed to her side and took her arm, holding onto her as if she wasn’t going to let go.

  As Balfor spoke in his guttural language to the crowd, Stacia watched what she could see of Lilith’s expression. First, her brown eyes widened and then filled with tears as she started shaking her head at Balfor’s words. Then Lilith surprised Stacia by rattling off words in the umbrose language loud enough to get Balfor’s attention. His wings twitched in response to whatever Lilith said, but he did not turn. His reply was sharp enough that Stacia could tell it was a reprimand, even though she had no idea what he was saying. Lilith’s body trembled against her side, but she spoke again, and Stacia could detect her pleading tone.

  Balfor’s voice cut her off. He still didn’t turn to face either of them, but his tone brooked no more discussion. His words must have said the same because Lilith slumped against Stacia, her hands gripping Stacia’s arm tightly as tears dripped from her eyes to soak her veil.

  “I’m so sorry, Stacia. There’s nothing I can do.”

  “What’s going to happen to me?” Stacia whispered through numb lips as Balfor gestured to the crowd and two lumbering umbrose males wearing the chest plates of guards broke from the rest of the group and approached her and Lilith.

  “There will be a public punishment for striking the prince.” Lilith looked at Stacia with wet eyes. “I tried to plead leniency, but he wouldn’t… it’s gone too far.”

  Stacia didn’t have time to ask more, because Balfor disappeared in that moment. Then the guards fell upon them, grabbing both women and pulling them apart.

  Stacia would have gone quietly—though her every instinct told her to fight until she could break away and run—but the fact that Lilith was also being restrained had her struggling against the iron grip of her guard. “Wait, Lilith! Why are they taking you, too?”

  Lilith shook her head. “Don’t worry about me. My punishment for openly questioning the prince will be far less severe. I’ll send Sari to translate for you. Just please do whatever you’re told so things don’t get worse.”

  Then they were force-marched in different directions. Once again, Stacia had brought nothing but bad fortune upon Lilith’s head by her impulsive and foolish actions. Once again, they would both have to live with the consequences. She wanted to hate Balfor and blame him for all of this happening, but instead, she hated herself. She knew where the blame lay.

  Chapter 16

  Though it took everything Stacia had to remain obedient to the physical orders of the umbrose guard—who didn’t even bother to give her verbal commands she wouldn’t understand—she did her best. She followed where he led, when her legs twitched to break away from his loose hold on her arm and run. Common sense told her there was nowhere she could go to escape her fate anyway. But it wasn’t common sense that kept her going. She worried about Lilith’s fate now too. Like it or not, Lilith had openly supported Stacia in this public debacle. Stacia’s behavior would reflect on her best friend. She should have realized that before, instead of letting her impulsive anger drive her actions.

  Which meant that, despite her fear of what was going to happen next, and despite the staring from the crowds of umbrose they’d passed, Stacia kept her head up and tried to remain strong. She’d been in dangerous situations before. Of course, she’d also been armed and fully armored those other times. Now she had nothing to protect her. The situation reminded her of being arrested by the Peace Keepers. Anxiety tried to swamp her, but she struggled against it and won the battle, finding a place of surreal calm.

  The guard led her through the city, back towards the palace, then past the Trilospires to another large spire a short walk beyond it. It was a spire that Stacia had not yet visited during her three weeks here. Since there were still many places in Sanctuary she had yet to visit, that wasn’t surprising. What was surprising, not to mention very worrisome, was the crowd of umbrose filing into the building, both on the ground and flying in through the open terraces all along the height of the spire.

  There were more umbrose present than she’d ever seen in one place. And every last one of them stared at her as she went past. There was muttering, but she didn’t understand it and was grateful for that. Yet, despite the hard eyes on her, none of the umbrose actually called out to her as if they were calling her names or doing any of the other hateful things she’d seen humans do during a public Censure. No one flung anything at her. No one made a move towards her at all. They just watched, and judged—their disapproval visible in their crossed arms, tense wings, and condemning frowns from the males. The females watched her with wide eyes, their expressions concealed behind veils.

  The guard maneuvered her past the crowd and into a side entrance of the spire. He led her through a long, dark corridor which was thankfully clear, so she didn’t stumble or bump into anything. They were out of it again before her eyes adjusted to the change in light. When she looked at the sight that loomed in front of her, she regretted being able to see again. It appeared that she was getting to see the arena that she’d been so anxious to visit earlier. Unfortunately, she was seeing it from the pit.

  The spire was actually an open-air building, though the sides of it extended many stories towards the cavern ceiling. Those stories were filled with umbrose, thousands upon thousands of gray and black bodies packed into the massive arena. But it wasn’t the people in the stands
that concerned her so much as what was in the center of the pit.

  Two parallel metal posts had been erected in the dirt ground. A shackle dangled like a noose from each one. Stacia had been witness to enough public Censures during the reign of the Diakonos to recognize whipping posts. Instead of increasing her fear, the sight of them actually relieved her. She’d never actually been whipped before, but she’d suffered in other ways that convinced her she could get through this pretty easily. After all, the PKs had tortured her using electroshock during their interrogation, and she’d managed not to break. She could do this.

  Then she saw Balfor striding out of a corridor on the other side of the arena. His expression was grim, his lips tight, his eyes hooded by lowered brows. In his hand, he carried a coiled whip. Her attention was so fully upon her lover—who it appeared would be the one to personally punish her—that she barely glanced at Duke Ranove following the prince.

  Ranove’s expression was also grim. When he caught her eye, he snarled at her. Stacia took a half-step back, bumping into the guard who pushed her closer to the whipping posts. Ranove seemed to be as angry at her as Balfor was, which she supposed made sense given that she’d once again put Lilith in danger.

  It was a pity, because she felt like they had become—if not friends—then at least friendly acquaintances in the past three weeks. He usually left her and Lilith alone to visit or work, but they’d interacted on several occasions, especially when dealing with the trade agreements, and Stacia both liked and respected Ranove. She couldn’t think of a better person for her best friend to love. It seemed that fragile friendship was gone if Ranove’s expression was anything to go by.

  There were other umbrose who filed into the pit after the two males, but Stacia had returned all her focus to Balfor. Her chest hurt at the sight of him so angry and severe. He was a far cry from the lover she’d fallen asleep next to just the night before. Yet, she knew it was the same person. She just didn’t know who that person was. She’d only convinced herself of who she wanted to believe he was, and he’d allowed her to live with those illusions, no doubt realizing that all her understanding was funneled through himself and Lilith, who was also somewhat limited on what she was allowed to see and do in Sanctuary.

  It was foolish for Stacia to have ever believed she could know Balfor, but she’d always been a foolish person. Even in this, she’d been the fool, acting the way she had when she knew full well what a public confrontation would mean. It seemed that—even after all she’d been through in her life—she still hadn’t learned to control her temper or her mouth.

  They were almost at the whipping posts. She felt the stares of the eerily silent audience upon her as she dragged her feet with each step closer to the center of the pit. The guard appeared hesitant to push her too hard under the watchful eye of her “protector” who stood waiting to inflict pain on her. Sari came rushing up behind Stacia and the guard, just as they reached the posts and Stacia had to face Balfor, standing not more than a few paces from her.

  Sari spoke for Stacia’s benefit. “You need to stand between the posts and allow the guard to secure your wrists.”

  Filled with grateful relief at Sari’s timely arrival and the fact that she wouldn’t have to go through this alone and uncomprehending—she now regretted being so lazy about trying to learn the language—Stacia nodded her understanding since her throat was too dry for speech. She swallowed a couple of times as she stepped between the posts, looking away from Balfor’s condemning eyes.

  As the shackles snapped close around her wrists, she tried to control her panic. The metal felt ice cold against her skin, but maybe it was her blood that froze her and caused her to shiver. The guard pulled the chains tighter until she was standing with her arms raised high above her head. Stacia took a few deep breaths to keep from hyperventilating.

  Ranove addressed the umbrose. If possible, the silence of the audience grew more profound when he began speaking. Not even the rustle of a wing could be heard from the pit as the duke’s deep voice rang out in the arena. Sari stepped close to Stacia and translated in a low voice for her ears alone. “Many among you have been witness to multiple offenses committed by Lady Stacia, prince’s concubine, towards her prince and protector. She summoned him without warrant, defied his commands, and struck him in anger.”

  The swell of muttering among the crowd rose to an almost deafening volume for a brief moment after Ranove finished speaking. Then Balfor raised his hand for silence and the crowd settled.

  Ranove stepped in front of the post so that his back was to her. As Ranove spoke again, she paid more attention to Balfor, who still remained at her side. “The punishment for such a blatant offense is twenty lashes, to be delivered by the one who has been offended.” The duke glanced over his shoulder at her. His eyes narrowed, and there was no pity on his face. “Due to the fragile nature of the offendant, no barbs will be used on the whip to avoid permanent damage.”

  Stacia thought she heard the disappointed tone in his voice even over Sari’s whispered translation.

  She appeared to have made an enemy of her best friend’s mate. That was unfortunate, and she hoped that she would somehow be able to rectify that, but at the moment she was more relieved by the news that there wouldn’t be a barb on the whip. She glanced down at the whip Balfor held at his side, just as he said something in a low voice to Ranove. She could clearly see the gleam of a pointed metal tip at the end of the coiled whip. She sucked in a breath and tensed in the shackles.

  Ranove returned his attention to the audience. “The prince has decreed that a barb will be used.” To his credit, he didn’t sound any more pleased about it than he had about there not being a barb. Perhaps it was simply this situation that put that tone in his voice.

  Stacia felt the blood rush from her head as acid pooled in her stomach. Her fear, which had started to subside beneath the weight of this public humiliation, returned to full strength. It was bad enough to be whipped, but to be whipped with a barb for twenty lashes meant that her back would be nothing but bloody meat when Balfor was finished. The pain would probably cause her to faint, if she was lucky, but she feared that she wouldn’t be.

  An additional sense of betrayal filled her that Balfor had insisted on a harsher punishment even when it sounded like he could have satisfied his people with less. He must truly hate her now. That thought hurt. She wondered if the physical pain could match her emotional pain. I fell in love with a lie… again. First Jack, now Balfor! Why am I such a fool when it comes to men?

  The realization that she had fallen in love with Balfor in only three weeks rocked her so much that she almost didn’t hear the rest of Sari’s translation of Ranove’s words. By this time, the duke had turned to face Balfor. “My Liege, is there anything you wish to add?”

  All eyes were upon the prince as he took a step forward. Now that Stacia could see him fully without turning her head, her heart hitched. She loved him, or at least, what she’d thought she knew of him. That was why she’d been so hurt by the existence of his two concubines, and by his harsh comment that she had no say in the matter.

  Balfor looked out over the audience. “As your prince, I demand obedience and respect. In return, it is my sworn duty to protect my people from those who would destroy us. I make no law that I, myself, will not follow. It is my right to demand retribution for the offense given to me by this woman, my concubine.” Balfor turned and met her eyes. “It is also my right, as her protector, to take the punishment in her place.”

  Sari was still translating his words when the audience erupted, umbrose speaking aloud in their language, their wings shifting and rustling as they moved. Several of the watchers in the rear stands even leapt into the air, winging away. Ranove turned quickly to Balfor, his eyes wide and mouth agape. There were surprised gasps and muttering from the other male umbrose who had entered the arena with Balfor and Ranove and now surrounded the whipping posts. She didn’t understand exactly what Balfor had meant, but apparently ev
eryone else did.

  Balfor handed the barbed whip to Ranove, who took it reluctantly, looking at it as if surprised to see it in his hand. “Duke Ranove will carry out the punishment in my stead. Do any of you here question his ability to do so?” His tone was brittle.

  The crowd settled, casting nervous glances towards Ranove, who had turned back to face them with shoulders set and wings tight against his back.

  “What’s happening here?” Stacia whispered to Sari once the umbrose woman finished translating Balfor’s words.

  Sari held up her hand for silence as Balfor glanced over at her. Stacia pressed her lips together as if that would help keep dangerous words from getting her into more trouble.

  Ranove spoke in a low voice to Balfor. Sari translated his words in an even lower voice to Stacia, as if she wasn’t quite certain she should be doing so. “My Liege, this may look worse than—”

  Balfor turned to the duke with a snarl of rage that had many of the umbrose in the first row stepping back. “Do you question my right as a protector?” Sari was whispering the words so fast as the prince spoke that even though she spoke DC Common fluently, it was difficult for Stacia to understand everything she was saying.

  Balfor turned his attention from Ranove to the crowd. “Does anyone here question my right?” Sari’s translation of this was almost a hiss, though Balfor’s voice had boomed out over the crowd.

  The umbrose in the first level of the arena stepped further back and most of the people in the crowd were now shaking their heads, their eyes downcast.

  Balfor turned back to the duke. “Then let this be done with.” He motioned to the guard who had shackled Stacia.