Chapter 9

Someone scurried past us, hearing the unrefusable menace in the Prince's voice.

I was held immobile by the iron hand under my chin.

He had me stretched up on my toes, and I was sorely afraid I might be sick again from the position and the mingled scents of heavy perfumes, cinnamon, and the rank tea and half-rotted goat's cheese the Nerzhi so prized.

The carpet somewhat muffled durgan's account of the afternoon's events under his mouth.

Complete prostration was perhaps a bit overdramatic in such a private setting, but the slave master was fighting for his life. When the tale was done, the Prince released his grip and shoved me aside.

I knelt down and crawled onto all fours until I was right beside Durgan who lay on the ground, gasping for breath.

His face was gray and his breathing was short and shallow.

When the Prince gave the order to summon Lord Kasier, the man bent down and grabbed Durgan by the arm pulling him to a sitting position.

The Prince turned back to me and motioned for me to get up.

"Go take him, have him clean himself up before dinner, he smells disgusting! now!" he barked rage evident in his voice.

They sent me outside the palace tent to await the Lord once I changed my clothes.

The night was freezing, and I had no cloak or coat.

As my gaze wandered aimlessly amongst the tents and sleeping caravans,

I was met with the sight of an enormous bonfire blazing merrily, sending up flames into the sky.

People gathered around the pit, laughing and smoking pipes.

In the midst of the crowd, a group of children were jumping rope and shouting loudly at each other as their mother yelled at them to stay quiet.

The smell of freshly cooked food wafted over the campfires, tantalizing my stomach, But neither the guard's bonfire nor the blazing torches could have warmed the chill inside me.

Perhaps the Prince thought it would unsettle his chinless friend to see me, though as They led the gray-faced old man through the gates, I doubted my presence had anything to do with his terror.

He knew he was done for.

The Prince met us in the front of his mystical tent and l Durgan's bloodstained state troding behind the prince, his face grim.

It seemed, for the moment, it seemed that would have been my fate but.

"Take him," he ordered, turning and walking away without saying another word.

The guards then dragged the poor man as he went limp the guard's hand gripping his collar tightly so he could not make a sound.

Once we were inside the prince sat down heavily in his ornate high-back chair and rubbed his temples. He let his head fall forward and rested his forehead on his hands.

"Prince Aleksander… I'm sor—sorry," The old man stuttered as he spoke

the thing that caught my eye was his dress he was wearing a white fur cloak which hid his figure completely beside him stood the three men who had me branded.

"You see, Kasier I sent this slave outside to greet you ... freely, with no concern that he might run away. You've done me quite a service, Kasier." The old man gaped stupidly at the Prince,

who laughed, took the man's arm, and strolled toward a clutter of black tents.

"Come, I want to thank you for it."

Though he laughed uncertainly—more of a squeak than a laugh—The old man could not have refuted he just followed.

In addition to two torchbearers and two attendants, the three men there were Seven liveried soldiers following him and the cheerfully chattering Prince.

The soldiers shoved me after them.

I wrapped my arms about myself, silently cursing winter and this world and my life.

Dread and surety gnawed at my gut as we stepped inside one of the black tent flaps,

where there was a roaring fire and five people.

All the lights were burning brightly inside, throwing shadows across the tent walls.

The Prince walked directly to the center of the circle, where the men stood with bows in their hands.

"This" he began, pointing to the nearest warrior and then at the second but

before he could continue the three fell on their knees and began wailing and moaning, their faces contorted with fear,

as they prostrated themselves towards the Prince.

The soldier nearest to me raised his bow and aimed an arrow straight at them.

The Prince motioned imperiously, and all three rose, staring up at the man in horror.

"Now," he said, pointing to the third of the three men before him, as he too dropped to the ground and sat on a stool. "This one, what is his name?"

"Mikhail, your Grace,"

"Good! Mikhail, I give thanks to you," he paused taking a deep breath, and continued, "but you will also receive a lesson today."

With a flick of the wrist, a gust of wind whipped around the man as he was picked up into the air,

the man was lifted into the air four feet above the ground his screams piercing the air.

His body twisted in mid-air as his skin began to peel off from his body beginning from his shoulders and ending at his face,

his head snapped back,

his eyes bugging,

his mouth opened in an ear-splitting scream.

Then his spine split, his torso was ripped apart, and he fell lifeless to the floor.

The man was kneeling with his bow aimed in the same direction as before but his eyes glittered with fear and death.

Then came the worst thing that could ever come out of a Prince's mouth: laughter.

At first, it sounded soft but grew louder every second that passed.

Soon the entire tent was filled with howls and hoots.

Finally, the prince stopped and wiped the tears from his eyes, he turned to look at the Guards and gestured at the old man.

"Bring him here."

The guards grabbed the old man and roughly pulled him away from the fire. The Prince sat next to the sobbing sniveling man who kept on repeating the phrase.

"Have mercy" in broken, shaky, hushed words over and over again as if trying to convince himself.

His fingers were clenched around his hair in a painful manner.

The Prince chuckled and patted the old man's trembling hand affectionately,

"Relax, I won't kill you, yet."

he chuckled, and then leaned closer, and whispered, "However, we shall see if this lesson teaches you humility."

Then the Prince turned to his servant. "Zherdevi, bring out my whip."

But before his order could be fulfilled

The prince abruptly stood and began weaving his hands the gust of wind picked up again the second who had held me down was lifted off the ground

and I watched in horror as the man was sliced, diced, cut off, dismembered, and tossed

parts of his body fell away from his body like pieces of meat from a dish.

When he finally fell down as

piles of bloody bits and pieces scattered around us.

I felt numb, unable to comprehend anything that I saw.

My mind refused to believe the carnage that lay before me. I stared at the scene of death and destruction and I found my throat tightening.

"A lesson is never meant to be a pleasure," said the prince with a slight grin,

and as if suddenly realizing where he was, the Prince stopped smiling abruptly and looked to his left

As he did that,

three men pulled out something from the raging fire and brought it to him

Dread and surety gnawed at my gut as the heat of the thundering flames seared my cheek anew until the very air quivered with the force of its power, the smoke billowing in every direction.

My heart thumped rapidly inside my chest.

then without warning the last man burst into flames as the prince pointed the thing which turned out to be the same type of iron that had marked me at him,

His screams echoed across the campground; loud and agonized.

The flames roared higher, higher, until it reached its peak.

For several moments the sounds of screaming continued in unison, a symphony of agony and suffering.

Then silence

As I stood frozen, I was aware of the sounds coming from the Prince; he was chanting a prayer or something similar.

It was only when the wind blew the flames aside that I could actually hear the chants coming from his lips.

Then a deafening boom and blinding flash of light erupted around me.

when my eyesight came back, there was nothing left of the man but charred remains, but he was twitching and moving like he was still alive somehow.

I felt my stomach churned and my head ached as I looked at the burnt man.

Then the prince went to the burnt corpse and kneeled next to it, The Prince held up the charred remains of the poor man's hand. The tips of the fingers were still twitching uncontrollably as he waved them at me.

"come here," he said to me

As I moved toward him, I felt scared

when I reached he grabbed my hand in an iron grip and forced my hand to touch the charred corpse's wrist

"feel it"

after a few seconds, I felt it, a very faint pulse

Good gracious god, that man was still alive, when the prince finally let go of man's hand I stood up and stayed still

horrified and scared out of my mind watching the twitching poor man\

then prince made a gesture

and everyone moved in unison

the attendants went out

the guards grabbed the old man

The old man tried to pull away as they strapped him to the post, but he was not half strong enough.

, first, he threatened the guards

Then he began to beg, his pockmarked face a pasty gray.

"Aleksander ... Your Highness. You must understand. My father ... the disgrace ... handling slaves ..."

When the prince pulled his glowing irons that were handed to him moments ago,

the gibbering turned to a low wailing.

I would not watch it.

I had been very close to howling a few short hours earlier, and the smith had been careful with me.

I closed my eyes ... so I was not at all prepared when the burly guard crammed a heavy iron handle into my hand.

"Do it," commanded the Prince, who smiled and folded his arms, waiting.

"Kasier is not content to be a slave handler. He thinks he can fall no lower. Prove to him how wrong he is."

"My lord, please." I could scarcely speak for my revulsion. Everything I still held sacred, everything I prayed was still tucked away inside me

The hot amber gaze shifted to me.

I wanted to look away, knowing that no good could come from anything I might do or say.

But there are deeds that are impossible, no matter what the consequence of leaving them undone.

I looked at the tip of the iron instead of a small symbol an entire mask of iron was etched deeply upon it.

I shook my head slowly and whispered. "No."

"I'll hear no womanish scruples. I'm giving you the chance for revenge. Surely a slave craves revenge." he replied, and the smile vanished. "Do it now!"

I held my tongue but did not look away.

I could not let him mistake my intent.

While staring straight into his blazing fury, I raised the vile implement to toss it back into the fire.

But before I could lose it, the Prince roared,

suddenly an invisible powerful hand curled about my own and forced the red-hot iron onto Kasier's face.

I heard Kasier's screams and smelled his burning flesh long into that night,

long after I was locked in a cell beneath the slave carriages in the frigid darkness.

I pulled the filthy straw over my nakedness and fought to retrieve some semblance of the peace and acceptance I had striven to build over the last few days.

But all I could think was how much I detested Prince Aleksander.

I could not judge Lord Kasier or whether he was truly worthy or unworthy of Aleksander's scorn,

but how could I not despise a prince who would mutilate one man and trample the pitiful scraps of another to remedy his own foolish mistake?

I cursed at fate for bringing me here I cursed at the world at everything.