Page 68 of Empire of Flame and Thorns

My breath catches.

Which oddly enough doesn’t hurt. I glance down at my body in stunned surprise.

I know that several of my ribs were completely shattered last night. And I might have increased healing speed, but it’s notthisfast.

My gaze drifts to my arm and then my leg. The wounds there are gone. Not even a scar is left.

Which can only mean one thing.

The powerful healing magic from the leader of the Orange Dragon Clan.

For an entire minute, all I can do is to stare down at my body. My now completely healed and well-rested body. I haven’t felt this good in decades. Not only did that powerful healing magic fix my most recent injuries, it also got rid of the exhaustion and weakness and sheer utter tiredness that has clung to my bones for years due to the prolonged lack of food and the long hours of work. I didn’t even realize how much it has weighed on my soul until now when it’s gone.

Drawing in a deep breath, I marvel at the feeling of my lungs expanding fully. Without pain or pressure crushing them.

I rub a hand over the spot on my thigh where Jeb stabbed me. There is a tiny speck of blood on the hem of my short white nightgown, which means that I’m still wearing the same one that I wore last night. But someone has swapped the thin lace robe for a different one. No doubt since my original one had a slash through the arm. Not to mention that the fabric covering that arm was completely soaked in blood from the cut across my forearm.

The realization that someone has healed me and changed my robe brings forth another question.

Where in Mabona’s name am I?

Still sitting in the middle of the bed, I stare at the room around me. It’s certainly not my room. Instead of walls and floor made of the same pale stone as the rest of the palace, this room has the added luxury of floorboards and wall panels made of rich dark wood.

There are bookshelves along one wall, and a grand desk by the other. They’re all made of the same elegant wood. As is the double bed that I’m occupying. I glance down at the dark sheets that cover the soft mattress before I begin searching for the most important features of the room.

The doors.

There is one door on the wall to my right and another opposite me across the room. The wall on my left holds a series of windows. Sunlight which, from the angle of it, looks to be from a bright midday sun streams in through the windows and illuminates the luxurious room. I study it for another second.

I’m still somewhere in the Golden Palace, of that I’m certain. But it’s not the south wing.

“On your knees,” a harsh voice bellows from somewhere outside the windows.

My heart stutters as I recognize the voice.

Scrambling out of bed, I hurry over to the windows and look out at the scene before me. Or rather below me.

The windows overlook a courtyard on what appears to be the east side of the palace, close to the front doors. This room is up on the fourth floor, but I can still see clearly what happens on the ground below. And when I do, my mouth drops open.

All of the contestants who made it through the second trial are standing in a half circle with their backs towards my window. In front of them are three people. Draven, Tommen, and Jeb.

My two attackers from last night are on their knees while Draven stands behind them, looming over them like an executioner. He is holding his massive sword in his right hand, and his face radiates ruthless power and cold fury.

“You were given one very clear rule,” Draven says, his voice cutting through the air like the strike of a whip. “No fighting outside of trials. And yet, these two spineless cowards decided to attack another contestant in the middle of the night.” His eyes burn with threats as he sweeps a hard look over the half circle before him. “What is the punishment for that?”

Someone apparently answers, but because they aren’t shouting the way that Draven is, I can’t actually hear what they say through the closed window.

“Exactly,” Draven replies. He flexes his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Execution.”

On the ground, Tommen and Jeb tremble and cower down.

My gaze drops down to the two of them. Shock and confusion pulse through me as I take in their appearances.

Yes, the punishment for attacking another contestant is death. But these two haven’t simply been shackled and brought out to be executed. They have beentorturedtoo.

Both of Tommen’s arms are bent at unnatural angles, and when he opens his mouth slightly, I notice that all of his teeth are missing. Blood and bruises cover both his face and Jeb’s. Jeb also has vicious-looking stab wounds and cuts all across his body.

My heart patters against my ribs as I stare at them. Based on the extent of their injuries, the torture must have gone on for most of the night.

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