Page 110 of Song of the Heart Scale
Pain rocketed through my shoulders as I hung from the chains. “I'm telling you the truth!” I gasped.
“Truth?” He laughed. “The real Lady Arya is betrothed to Emperor Thorne. She lives in luxury; she does not roll in filth with peasants.” He pressed the hot tongs against my side.
My scream echoed off the stone walls. The pain was blinding, white-hot and searing. The smell of burning flesh—my flesh—filled my nostrils.
“Who organized the riot?” The interrogator pulled the tongs away, leaving behind a blistering welt on my side.
I gasped for breath as tears streamed down my face. “No one. It just... happened. People are hungry.”
“Lies!” He pressed the tongs to my arm this time, and I screamed until my throat felt raw. “Someone is spreading rumors about grain shortages. Someone is turning the people against their emperor.”
When he finally pulled the tongs away, I sagged in my chains, trembling. “There's no... shortage?” I managed through ragged breaths.
“The emperor provides well for his people,” the interrogator intoned mechanically. “Those who claim otherwise are traitors.”
“Impossible,” I muttered.
Through tears, I saw the guards exchange uncomfortable glances. One of them shifted his weight.
“Sir,” he said cautiously, “what if she's telling the truth? The resemblance is—”
“Silence!” The interrogator whirled on him. “Are you questioning me?”
The guard stiffened. “No, sir. But if there's even a chance...”
The interrogator tossed the tongs aside with a clatter. “Fine. If you're so concerned, send word to the palace. Ask if Lady Aryais missing.” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “In the meantime, we continue.”
The guard hesitated, then nodded and left the chamber.
“Now,” the interrogator said, turning back to me, “while we wait for confirmation of your obvious lies, let's discuss yourrealpurpose at the market.” He selected a thin whip from the wall, the leather tip adorned with metal barbs that gleamed wickedly in the torchlight.
“I was just shopping,” I gasped, my side and arm still burning from the tongs. “I swear!”
The first lash caught me across the back, tearing through my dress and ripping into flesh. I screamed, my body jerking in the chains.
“The Heart Scale song,” he continued, circling me like a predator. “Who taught it to you? Who's spreading it through the districts?”
Another lash. Another scream tore from my throat.
“I don't know!” I cried, blood trickling down my back.
The interrogator leaned close, his breath hot against my ear. “You're part of the rebellion, aren't you? Working with Prince Damien's sympathizers?”
My heart stuttered at Damien's name. I forced my face to remain neutral despite the agony radiating through my body. If Thorne was aware of Damien’s actions, then there was definitely a mole.
“I don't know what you're talking about,” I whispered.
The whip cracked again. I bit through my lip to keep from screaming.
“The prince may be the emperor's brother,” the interrogator hissed, “but his sympathies with the resistance are well-known. Tell me if he’s aiding them!”
I said nothing, which earned me another lash. My vision blurred and darkness crept in at the edges.
It seemed Thorne didn’t know about Damien’s plans, after all. He just thought someone was starting a rebellion and Damien had sympathized with them. Interesting.
“Prince Damien hasn't been seen at court in days,” the interrogator continued. “Some say he's gathering forces. Others say he's planning to overthrow his brother.” He grabbed my chin and forced me to meet his icy blue stare. “And now we find a woman with Lady Arya's face at a riot. Interesting coincidence.”
“It's not... a coincidence,” I gasped. “I am Lady Arya.”
