Page 25 of Bride of the Black Dragon
Xaren glares down at her.
“That’s because I’m not a rapist! I won’t take her against her will just because you say so!” he snarls. “You know why I feel as I do.”
The Queen’s face grows pale and she actually flinches. I do believe what Xaren said has struck a nerve, though I’m not sure why. But the next minute, she’s angry again—her nostrils flaring with rage.
“How dare you speak so to me? I am your mother.”
“A mother protects her child,” Xaren says coldly. “You never protected me. You never paid the ransom.”
I’m lost as to the meaning of this, but it seems to be making the Queen angrier and more upset by the minute. The guard has come back in by now and he’s uncoiling a thick leather whip with sharp bits of metal tied to the long lashes at its tip. She nods at him stiffly and he nods back, loosening his arm and making the whip swish menacingly through the air.
“The Princess shall be whipped for lying and then both of you will go!” she says to Xaren. “I’ve had quite enough of your rude and hurtful remarks.”
“Don’t you mean you’ve had enough of the truth?” Xaren asks coolly. “And you’re not whipping, Elaina—I forbid it.”
“You are in no position to forbid anything!” the Queen snarls. “I am the Monarch here—not you. If I give the word, the guards will throw you in the dungeons. Don’t think I won’t do it!”
“I have no doubt you would.” Xaren shoots her a level glance. “Very well—if you want to whip someone, whip me. I’m more at fault for Elaina still being a virgin than she is.”
As he speaks, he begins stripping off his jacket and shirt. He isn’t wearing a waistcoat or cravat so in no time at all, he’s down to his bare skin. His broad shoulders flex and I bite back a gasp. Is he really going to do this for me?
The Queen’s mouth narrows to a scarlet ribbon and her face is pale with anger.
“Very well,” she says tightly. “But I won’t go easy on you just because you’re my son. You’ll get the full force of the whip, as though you were any common thief or liar.”
“I would expect nothing less,” Xaren says grimly. He turns to face the guard. “Where do you want me?”
The guard gestures to the far wall and Xaren walks over and places his hands on the pale blue brocade wallpaper. He turns his head again.
“Well? What are you waiting for?”
The guard looks at the Queen, as though for confirmation. I have the feeling that though she enjoys doling out cruel and unusual punishments to others in the Citadel, the Royal family is usually exempt.
Not this time, though.
“Go on—twenty lashes,” she says to the guard. “As hard as you can make them—don’t you dare hold back.”
The guard nods and pulls back his arm. The leather whip whistles through the air and cracks as it hits Xaren’s broad back. The sharp metal hooks at the end of the lashes catch and dig into his flesh, ripping bloody gouges in his skin. Blood begins to flow at once.
I stuff a fist into my mouth to keep from screaming. I have never seen a beating so brutal and it makes me sick. But I make myself watch. He’s taking my punishment—taking my pain. I can’t allow myself to look away.
The whip draws back with a hiss and the guard’s arm falls again. Again the whistling crack and the drag of metal through flesh. More blood. It must be incredibly painful, but Xaren doesn’t cry out—doesn’t say a word. His big body tenses with each blow and I see his fingertips digging into the wall, but he gives no other indication that he’s being tortured.
By the end, my tears are flowing freely. I want to shout at the guard—to catch his arm and make him stop! Xaren’s back is a mass of bloody stripes and blood is dripping on the gold carpet and flecking the pale blue wallpaper.
The Queen doesn’t seem nearly as upset as I am. She watches impassively as her son is whipped at her behest. Even when a few drops of his blood fly from the end of the whip and land on her cheek, she simply wipes them away with an embroidered lace handkerchief and keeps watching. What kind of mother can watch her own son hurt like this and feel nothing?
She’s a monster.
At last, the twentieth stroke falls. The whipping is done. The guard takes out a rag and cleans the whip as he coils it up. No one says a word—no one has anything to say. At least, I don’t. I feel numb but also horrified at the same time. I never dreamed such things would happen here!
I’ve never wanted to go home so badly in my life! But I know that isn’t an option—the Queen will never let me go. Not until I give her a Drake grandson—and probably not even then. Don’t they always say a woman must bear “an heir and a spare” in order to ensure the survival of the Royal lineage?
My thoughts fade away when Xaren turns from the wall. His dark face is pale and his mouth is a grim line.
“If that’s all, Mother, I will take my leave,” he says. His deep voice is quiet but harsh and there is hatred in his eyes—both of them, not just the glowing golden Drake eye.
“You are dismissed,” she says coldly, just as though she hadn’t just ordered her own son whipped bloody. “But I want you to remember something, Xaren…” She points at me. “We bought Elaina and brought her here for one reason only—to give us a Royal Drake heir. If she cannot even fulfill that one function, she’s no use to us at all!” She gives me a cold, appraising stare and then turns back to him. “If you don’t bed her and get her pregnant in the next month, I’ll get rid of her.”
