Free Winter Queen by Amber Argyle Page B

and she hadn’t even hesitated to shove her knife under his ribs.
    A crowd had begun to gather. By the knots on their belts, most were Tyrans. But there were also a good number she recognized as Argons—mostly women who wore despondency like a shroud. So, Undon had taken Argons as tiams too. Ilyenna searched for someone she might recognize. Her gaze landed on Narium, Rone’s mother and clan mistress for the Argons.
    They’d taken two clan mistresses? It was unthinkable. Her mind tried to make Narium into someone else, but her eyes refused to lie.
    Upon recognizing Ilyenna, Narium gasped and whispered to another woman. The woman took off running. Narium straightened and their gazes locked. Sorrow and fear twisted the older woman’s features.
    Ilyenna tried to keep her emotions from her face, to stop her knees from shaking.
    How many feast days have our clans spent together? she silently asked the other clan mistress. How many times have I supped beneath your roof, and you ours? How could it come to this? What about Seneth and Rone? Are they even alive?
    Ilyenna’s eyes fluttered shut. Rone.
    Darrien jerked a knife from its sheath and held it in his teeth. He moved aside her mussed hair, then nicked the back of her dress and jerked it down, baring her back. She felt the cool air against her skin. Bare skin everyone could see. Humiliated, she tried to concentrate on how her flesh felt—whole and hale. She felt no pain. She needed to hold onto that feeling so she didn’t cry out when the beating began.
    She sensed him pull back the strap. With a slap, it connected with her back. Every muscle in her body clenched in protest. A scream tore at her throat. She forced it down. Only a grunt clawed its way free. She felt lye running down her back like liquid fire.
    The strap hit her again. And again. And again. After the fifteenth time, Ilyenna’s legs gave out. She would’ve collapsed to the ground if her hands weren’t tied over her head.
    With each blow, her flesh swelled and blistered. Too tired to fight, she whimpered softly each time the strap struck her back. Soon, she lost track of the number of hits. Her mouth ached for water.
    Then a wonderful thing happened. The strap didn’t hurt anymore. Ilyenna floated in a space between consciousness and awareness. Her head dangled like a ripe piece of fruit from a tree.
    “You’ll kill her!” someone cried.
    Darrien didn’t even slow.
    Somewhere, from far away, she thought she heard a man say, “You want her to live in order to break her?”
    The strap stopped. How many times had he hit her? Thirty? Fifty?
    Darrien grunted. “You’re right. Anymore, and she’ll bear scars.” He lifted her chin with his finger. She tried in vain to open her eyes. “Perhaps next time I ask , you’ll be a bit more obedient.” Her chin dropped back to her chest. She felt her tormenter step back and heard him say, “Tiams, clean this up.”
    Ilyenna was suddenly surrounded by hands—hands that worked the ropes free, hands that guided her gently to the ground. Water sloshed across her back. Her eyes fluttered open. Faces surrounded her, faces she vaguely knew. Narium was there. Three more buckets of water were poured on her back.
    The cool water soothed the burning in her skin. Far above the people surrounding her, she saw swirls of color. Colors that shifted and twirled. “It’s the fairies,” she whispered. “They’ve come back.”
    Narium leaned directly over her, blocking her view of the fairies. “How long since he gave you anything to drink?”
    Ilyenna tried to focus through the agony. “Not since this morning,” she croaked.
    Moments later, water met her lips. She gripped the waterskin, chugging greedily. Fingers pried her hands away. “Too much and your stomach will sick up,” a female voice said.
    The burning from the lye seemed to redouble. Ilyenna cried softly.
    Another face suddenly joined the others. Rone.
    “No!” he cried. “Not her too!”
    His beard had