Princess Reviled

by Butler, J. M.

  Shon pulled his hand free. "I don't feel anything."

  "That isn't something to be proud of," Vorec responded. "Now get that taken care of."

  Shon said nothing as he left. Murmurs of approval rippled through the crowd. They parted to let Shon through. Some spoke softly of how he deserved far better and what a pity it was. The words stung as Shon stumbled away. If only he could purge all memory of her from his mind. If only he had never known her.

  20

  Small

  Dull, aching pain was the first thing Amelia felt. Her wrists throbbed, and her shoulders screamed from the line of pressure that ran the length of her spine. Coarse restraints itched along her wrists and hands. A rough shake woke her the rest of the way. She groaned, blinking. "What?"

  The world slowly came into focus. Fear bolted through her. She was suspended by her wrists in front of a thick post. If she pushed onto the tips of her feet, she could relieve the pressure but barely.

  "You were warned." Vorec's gruff voice sounded next to her ear.

  Twisting around as best she could, Amelia glimpsed him beside her. "What is going on?" The words twisted from her mouth, not sounding as fierce as she intended. An angry crowd surrounded the marketplace platform, glowering, glaring, swearing, and cursing.

  "You are a traitor to this nation and to the royal family," Vorec proclaimed. "You have defied the king's commands, and you are in league with the skinchangers."

  "In league—"

  "I found the letter between you and the albino." Vorec displayed the thick sheaf of pages.

  Fear cut through Amelia's heart. Though she had packed it, she hadn't had time to read it yet, but from the triumphant sneer on Vorec's face it could not be good. "That was from negotiations when I was trying to stop them from conquering Libysha."

  "Is it?" Vorec feigned surprise. "This appears to be a plan in which you are very much in alignment with the Paras. One in which your children gain dominion over all the worlds. There is no reason you would not have agreed to it. There is protection for you and your children, and the skinchangers are responding to your demands."

  Amelia's chest tightened, terror spasming through her muscles. "I did not agree to it. I required that they give up all the Tue-Rahs and—"

  "Be silent!" Vorec bellowed. "You are a traitor—"

  "There's a date on the letter!" Amelia shouted back. She strained to balance herself on her toes. "It shows that it was from before the battle at the temple. I did not cooperate with them. Why would I have shown you the way into the temple? Why would I have helped you stop them?"

  "There is no date on the letter." Vorec held the pages up.

  Amelia's mouth dropped. The top of the first page had been torn, removing all evidence of the date. He'd torn the date off. He'd removed the proof of the timeline! "I did not betray this kingdom," Amelia said, struggling to keep her voice steady. "I am the Third Nalenth."

  Vorec turned to the crowd. "And that is what makes her treachery all the worse."

  The crowd shouted in agreement.

  "This woman was charged with destroying the Paras and keeping them from their conquests, but instead she has chosen to be their conquest." Vorec removed the cloth from the table before the post, revealing a multi-tailed whip. It had six long strands with thick knots along each one. Small rocks, glass, and metal had been fastened into the strands at regular intervals. "The accused will receive thirty lashes. And then she will be convicted and sentenced for her crimes when the king returns. This initial sentence is to be carried out immediately."

  * * *

  Naatos rested his head against the cold stone wall, his hand before himself. He folded his fingers down one by one, twisting them in their sockets and testing his shifting and healing. The effects of the huanna remained, but the flickers of energy within his muscles told him that soon he would achieve immunity. So long as he continued the exercises and patiently pushed his limits, it was only a matter of time. Perhaps they were within hours. Five days at most. But after that, it was a matter of flushing the huanna from his system. A dull concern warned him that it might take longer to return to his full strength.

  "How long before they throw her down here?" WroOth plucked at the lock on his cell door, resting his forehead against the bars.

  "Any time now," Naatos said. The sooner the better. He didn't like her being left up there. That elder commander troubled him more than he cared to admit. He knew that look of hatred well. That need to extinguish a particular life. But Amelia's position as princess and Third Nalenth likely brought her more protection and time from the elder commander's more savage—

  A sharp cry pierced the air, echoing in Naatos's ears. He stiffened, looking toward the window. From this angle, he could only see the sunset orange sky and the illuminated palace walls. Another scream followed, chilling Naatos's blood.

  Amelia.

  * * *

  Amelia braced against the pain, telling herself she wasn't going to cry or scream. Vorec was not going to beat her mentally. She wouldn't give him that satisfaction. But when the first blow lashed across her back, she couldn't hold it in. A horrified, pain-filled shriek tore from her mouth.

  Again and again, the multi-tailed whip struck her back, rested for a second, and then tore away, ripping the back of her dress and flesh. She twisted and fought, screaming. But the thongs that bound her did not give even a little. Each time another blow fell, she strained to pull free, balancing on the tips of her feet. And each time she lost her balance and struck the wooden pole.

  "Stop!" a young voice rang out from the crowd.

  Amelia struggled to lift her head, her breaths ragged. Matthu? She pressed her feet against the ground, balancing to relieve some of the fire that raged through her body. Tears blinded her eyes.

  Heavy footsteps sounded across the platform as the crowd fell silent. "Matthu, the other son of Linufe." Vorec did not sound pleased. "What do you think—"

  The crowd murmured with surprise as a loud thump sounded on the platform behind Amelia. A scuffle and shouts followed.

  Amelia strained to look over her shoulder. Yet that simple movement sent spirals of pain through her body. She shuddered, struggling to hold back the agonized sobs, but they burst through anyway.

  Something crashed off the platform with a heavy thud, footsteps pounded, and then all at once the tension in her wrists ended. Matthu leaned over her, jerking the leather thongs away. She collapsed to the ground and twisted in agony as her raw back struck the coarse wood.

  Matthu spun around, his javelin poised over his shoulder. "Back, all of you!" he shouted as some of the warriors advanced. "I don't even know what's going on here. I hear my brother's been found, and I come back and find this? This is wrong, and you know it. This is a person. And, if that's not enough, a princess and the Third Nalenth! Doesn't any of that matter? And where did you come from?" He pointed to a man clad in black who was picking himself up off the ground. The multi-tailed whip lay beside him. "We didn't have an enforcer yesterday," Matthu continued. "Are you an Ayamin? Are you one of us?" Matthu turned his gaze back out to the crowd, his voice frantic and his body tense. "Flogging hasn't been done since King Barlen's reign unless it's an extreme case. King Theol didn't even let it be used on the Telhetum Torturer—and that one was torturing people to death for fun! King Theol didn't let them use it on the Lortai family, and how many did they kill? Why are you doing this? Why—why? This isn't Libysha! This isn't who we are. We don't do this to people! We don't even do this to our animals! Why are you doing this? What's wrong with you?"

  Vorec held up his hands. "Lower your weapon, Matthu. You don't want to make this worse than you have. There's no need for such hysterics."

  "We're far beyond worse. I don't care if you are an elder commander. You're wrong!" Matthu shouted.

  "This woman is a traitor. She convinced you that she was your friend, and—"

  "If she's guilty, then where was her trial?" Matthu demanded. He adjusted his grip on the javel
in. "The king and queen will be back in a few days. A week at most. You could have sent a tracker eagle. You could have imprisoned her. But you flogged her. You flogged her! She didn't even get to defend herself against whatever it was."

  Vorec lifted the letter again. "It is not necessary that I prove my case to you, boy. But we have all the proof that we need. The damage she's done to your brother should be enough. This letter from the albino skinchanger states that she is one of them and provides standards for conquest—"

  "It's from the Paras?" Matthu's fingers worked along the polished wood. His gaze darted back and forth between Vorec and the now risen Enforcer. "They lie! We've seen it before. What good is a letter from them to her?"

  "Why would they state that they are pleased with her becoming part of their family and joining them if it were not so?" Vorec asked.

  "Because they were trying to mind wash her. That's what they do!" Matthu glanced back at Amelia.

  Amelia nodded, unable to form the words she needed. Darkness swam at the edges of her vision. If she remained perfectly still, she did not hurt as much.

  "If you say something enough times, some people believe it," Matthu continued. "It's like what you're trying to do by claiming she's a traitor. I know it's hard to believe in her. This is all weird, and I don't understand it all. But you didn't have to flog her. You shouldn't have flogged her! Let the king decide when he gets back. Let the Machat help us."

  Amelia struggled to push herself up. Her body shook.

  "Your brother was satisfied with her guilt." Vorec paced in front of Matthu. He held up his finger. "Your brother said that the law should deal with her now."

  "Shon was here?" Matthu's voice shook. "Shon knew about this? No. He's at the infirmary."

  Amelia's elbows buckled. She collapsed, horrified. Shon had been there?

  "Good. That's where he should be. But yes, he was here. And as her next in line, he has the right to intervene. He chose not to," Vorec said. "He could have proclaimed her innocence and insisted on her right to a trial and to allow the king to decide. But he chose to leave her in my judgment."

  Amelia clenched her eyes shut. He had to be lying. Please be lying, she thought. The dull ache of her heart told her he wasn't. Lies even here had a bitter tinge, and the only bitterness that reached her was her own and Vorec's hatred. A deadness spread within her heart.

  "So put the javelin down, son." Vorec adopted a more soothing tone. "She has fooled you as she did your brother. It is only natural that you want to fulfill your honorable duty and protect her. Now the law was clear, and it was appropriate to judge her swiftly. The old ways had to be brought back to make the standard clear in these treacherous times. If anything more severe is to be administered, it will only be done after further demonstration of her guilt."

  "Anything more severe? She's half dead! She can't even stand!" Matthu motioned toward the crowd. "Is this what you want, Libysha? What did she do that was so wrong it couldn't wait for her father to return and decide? I thought we were better than this. This is wrong, and all of you know it! If this is really what we're like, why do we care if we get taken over by a bunch of barbarians and shapeshifters? Are our lands and traditions that important?"

  "Be careful or you will go too far." Vorec scowled. "I have shown you leniency because of your family and your service. But this woman broke the law, and her betrothed did not intervene. He was given the opportunity, and he chose not to implement it. There is no other recourse for her. Do not make me consider whether you are a traitor as well."

  Amelia remained motionless on the platform. All the strength had fled her. If only she could slip into unconsciousness and escape this agony.

  "Well that doesn't matter." Matthu straightened. His adam's apple bobbed. "Because she isn't betrothed to Shon. That was broken off. And she's already married. To Naatos. That is who has the right to claim intervention for her."

  A startled hush came over the crowd as they stared at him. Amelia shook her head. That was not the best thing he could have said.

  Vorec chuckled after a few moments of silence. "Matthu, Naatos is also a traitor. A traitor cannot intercede for another traitor."

  "He's not a citizen though. You have to be a citizen to be a traitor. He's a warlord. His brother is the Para of Reltux, and he's one of the Awdawm arbiters. And since Amelia is a Neyeb and Naatos is the Para of Eiram and their arbiter, then that also means you have to ask him. But, yes, I know you can't just let him intervene. And if you can't, that's fine. All it means though is that Shon doesn't have final say, and since you won't ask her actual husband if he wishes her to have intervention, then it falls to the king to make the final judgment in a case like this. He'll be back in a few days."

  "She has only received twenty lashes," Vorec said. "After she receives the final ten—"

  "Just let her go!" someone from the crowd shouted.

  "You're going to kill her!"

  "Let the king decide what's to be done with her."

  "A few days more won't hurt anything."

  "She can suffer more under the king's justice."

  "Let her live so she can truly pay."

  The shouts increased, yet they sounded far away. Amelia almost smiled at the irony. How quickly the crowd was swayed. Ten minutes ago they would have been pleased for her to die on the beam and beneath the lash.

  Amelia continued to watch through half-shaded eyes. It was dim. Only because the sun is setting, Amelia thought. But the voices too were foggier, more distant.

  "Very well," Vorec said. His voice sounded as if it came from the end of a long tunnel. "Mercy can be shown. Rusar, take her back to the dungeon."

  "She needs medical attention first," Matthu said, still holding the javelin ready. "And why the dungeons? Let her stay in her rooms. She's not going anywhere. Not before the—"

  "Silence." Vorec glared at him. The light glinted in his eyes as the muscles in his jaw tightened. He gripped Matthu's shoulder. "I have chosen to lessen the punishment, but the traitor will remain in the dungeon with her husband and lovers. A physician will tend to her down there." He lowered his voice. "Keep pushing, and I will lock you up as well, finish the flogging in private, and have her imprisoned without treatment. Do you understand?"

  Amelia tried to tell Matthu that it was all right. He didn't need to get himself in trouble here. There was nothing else he could do.

  A cloak fell over her. Amelia cringed as Rusar wrapped it around her loosely and lifted her up. The pain thrust her backwards in her own mind as her head sagged. This time the waves of agony carried her into the darkness, and finally she fainted.

  21

  Brothers

  Shon collapsed on the padded window seat, his freshly bandaged and stitched hand to his head. Amelia's business was not his concern. What difference would it make? She had broken the king's direct command and agreed to work with the Paras. She had destroyed his heart, and when he offered her a way out, she spurned him. If she hadn't wanted him to help her live, why should he held her avoid the punishment she had earned?

  No one tried to talk to him on his way to the infirmary beyond what was essential. Or if they did, he didn't notice. Now in the safety of his home, he let his head fall forward onto the window and covered his eyes. I wasn't wrong, he told himself.

  Suddenly, a scream cut through him. Was that…Shon lifted his head, his body tightening. A second one followed.

  Shon ducked his head. Each one sliced into his soul. They came again and again, so regular that the clock's pendulum swayed exactly four times between each. Though Shon pushed them away, they seeped back up like black muck in the swamp.

  "She's your problem, Elonumato. You're the one that let her go off and do that. If you didn't want this to happen to her, you shouldn't have let her get caught. Or maybe you should have given us some extra miracles." Shon pressed his hands to the wall, leaning forward. A fog engulfed his brain. The haze offered marginal protection, making the screams sound more like eagle shrieks th
at might be confused with a hunt. Yet even that pretense wasn't quite sufficient. Shon remained at the wall, head bowed. Amelia did deserve this. At some point it stopped, but he could not move. The sound haunted him, playing over and over in his mind.

  The door slammed open. "Where were you?" Matthu shouted. He jumped over the low table and seized Shon by the doublet, slamming him into the wall. "You've been gone all this time, and then you come back to abandon Amelia? What were you thinking? We needed you. She needed you!"

  Shon's head struck the wall. He shoved Matthu away. "What does this matter to you?"

  "What does it matter? What does it matter?" Matthu clenched his fists. His face was white with rage and fear, the veins in his neck and forearms bulging. "You're an Ayamin! I am an Ayamin. You said you loved her—"

  "Amelia severed that bond. We're no longer—"

  "I don't care!" Matthu shouted. He picked up the terra cotta bowl and slammed it into the wall. Shards flew across the floor. "We are Ayamin. She is the princess. We protect her. That is what we do. How you feel doesn't matter!"

  Shon pushed past Matthu. His brother's voice thundered in his head. "Of course you don't understand."

  "I understand the vows we took. And even without that, I understand that Amelia saved your life. She gave up the one chance of coming back from death to bring you back. Doesn't that mean anything?"

  Shon spun as if the words had actually stung him. The rage cleared the haze. "No. It doesn't. I died to save her, and she gave up the Salvation of the Third Nalenth to bring me back. Not so that we could be together but because she couldn't live with the guilt of my death. She could have saved anyone. Esko died. He has six kids. She could have brought him back. Or Perez perhaps? Or…" His throat tightened. "Irasso. He and Lio—"

  Matthu set his jaw tight. "She picked you."