Page 124 of The Forsaken Heir
“Just wait,” he said. “It gets better. You’re only getting started.” He shoved his finger into my chest. “Iownyou. You are no longer a prince, you are my plaything. Understand? This will go on for as long as I want it to. Until you succumb. And youwill fucking succumb.” He emphasized each of the last three words with a slap to my face.
It felt as though arctic steam should have been billowing out my mouth and nose. My whole body felt like it should have been a block of ice, yet I could still move. Jerking spasmodically, I brought up memories of Elle again. Her radiant smile warmed my soul and kept some of the pain at bay, but not all of it. The rest I had to fight against with sheer force of will.
“Counterspells?” Bastien asked, inspecting his nails while I writhed against the ropes.
My heart felt numb—numb but also searing with pain. The combination of frigid agony and flaming torment nearly short-circuited my mind. Yet, even then, I found what I needed. Deep in my soul, I latched onto a reservoir of strength and resistance. My duty to my people. My people… And Elle. No matter theamount of pain, no matter how long this went on, I would withstand all of it. Until my inevitable execution, I would show this man what a dragon was made of.
Bastien’s jaw went slack as I planted one shaky foot on the ground, then the other. The pain in my wrists lessened, and I managed to clench my fists, forcing my upper body to stop shivering.
“Could you...turn the air down? I’m a little…hot,” I said, the words coming in a halting staccato.
“You—” Bastien let out a petulant roar of anger, kicking aside a metal stool. “Give me the spells!” He lunged forward and slapped me again.
“No.”
Hie slammed his fist into my jaw, and my head snapped to the side, blood flying from my mouth.
“The spells!”
“Go fuck yourself.”
Another childish scream erupted from his throat, and he bent over, gripping his knees. I could imagine the spoiled child he’d once been. Now a spoiled adult, with delusions of grandeur. It was pathetic to see.
“That’s it!” He straightened and dragged his hands through his hair. “That’s it,” he repeated as he strode to the table of implements. “If I can’t make you give me the secrets, we’ll do it another way, shall we?”
When he turned to face me again, he held a curved blade that looked like a scythe. Even as I continued shivering and fighting the agony in my veins, a new tremor of fear struck me.
“What do you know of Haruspicy?” he asked, giving the blade an experimental swing.
“What?”
“Haruspicy, you dumbfuck. It’s an ancient, dark branch of necromancy magic. Certain practitioners can read the future and gain secret knowledge by reading the spilled entrails of a sacrificial animal.” He pointed the blade at me, and flashed that manic and psychotic smile again. “The odds areverylow, sure, but I know people who travel in dark circles. I bet I could find someone to give it a try on you. As far as I’ve heard, it’s never been tried on a shifter. Usually, only goats and sheep and cow calves, but I bet it would be fun to give it a go.”
He pressed the blade against my stomach. My balls shriveled, contracting against my body at the feel of the metal.
“I wonder what we might see in the guts of a dragon prince? Huh?”
“Enough, Bastien. You’ve had your fun, but it’s time to stop.”
Flinching as though he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Bastien dropped the knife and spun around. Lady Gabrielle Laurent stood in the doorway, her arms crossed, and her mouth twisted in disapproval.
“Mother? I was just?—”
“About to slice his stomach open and spill his innards all over the floor,” she said dryly. “Yes, I heard. I’ve been standing inthe hall waiting for you to succeed. It looks as though our friend Prince Decimus is made of heartier things than most dragons.”
“No,” Bastien cried. “He’s not. I can break him, I swear.”
Gabrielle raised a reproachful eyebrow at her son.
“Bastien, your father and I have overlooked your proclivity for torture. We both know that our house must be led by the strongest. That doesn’t mean we will allow you to ruin what’s to come.”
“But—”
“No buts.” She pointed at me. “We need him alive for the public execution. We need to label him a terrorist. It’s the only way to garner enough support for our cause.”
Bastien grunted in disgust and waved a hand through the air. “We don’t need the fae or other shifters. We’re strong enough alone.”
“I wish that were true, Bastien. The problem is that wedoneed their support.”
