Resistance (15 page)

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Father
asked, and I shook my head; looking at the ground. I knew from
experience it was best to accept the anger without resistance.

“No? Well then, I’ll start,” he continued. “Do you
have
any
idea what it does to my reputation to find out that
one of my children has not only
willingly
escaped my home,
but has been found at a human brothel?” It wasn’t a question he
wanted an answer to. I could tell by his voice, which gained in
volume with every word, and I tried not to cringe. “I have also
been informed you were being ravished against a wall — a WALL,
Lumikki Trine. That is
very
becoming,” He added
sarcastically.

I cowered at the use of not only my full first name,
but the addition of my second. Father rarely pulled even a partial
true name for fear someone would discover his and use it against
him, and when he did you knew he was seconds away from strangling
you with his own bare hands. I felt myself begin to tremble, but
still didn’t say anything to him.

“Tell me, did he make you feel important? Hmm? Did he
make you feel like a woman?” Khan snorted and cleared his throat,
but was ignored. “What is this rebelling you’re doing to me?”
Father hissed, inches from my face. “Are you
trying
to
embarrass me with this infatuation of humans you have? Because it’s
working
.”

“We’re all very disappointed in you, Lumi,” Khan
added suddenly, and my eyes snapped up. “Being the daughter of a
king, especially the daughter of Landric, we all have much higher
expectations, and you continuously fail to meet them.”

Shut up,
I told myself.
Shut up and let him
belittle you. You know Father adores Khan, and you know it will
only end badly for you. Don’t open your mouth. Let it go, Lumi, let
it go—

“How dare you!” I cried at him, unable to listen to
the sensible voice in my head. “You were there with me all night!
You’re the one who forced me into this mess, and you dare stand
there and accuse me of this?” I pulled in a ragged gasp. I hated to
cry in front of them, but was finding it hard not to at that time.
“Why don’t you tell Mother just how deep you burrowed into that
poor Spring girl’s bosom, eh? Just how far your hand went up her
skirt?”

Khan, unsurprisingly, looked appalled by my words.
Father turned to look at him. “What is she talking about?” he
asked, and I was stunned that he’d even put a grain of salt to my
accusation.

“I haven’t the slightest clue,” he said. “I was only
with her after dinner last night. I most certainly wasn’t with her
at any sort of…party.”

“Your clever wording won’t get you out of this!” I
screamed. “Just because you weren’t ‘with’ me doesn’t mean you
weren’t there. You’re a disgrace!”

My mother snapped my name at me but it was too late.
The words were out of my mouth, and when my father turned to look
at me, his knuckles slammed across my cheekbone with inhuman speed.
Startled, I stumbled off my heels and hit the ground hard; my elbow
and hip taking a great amount of the impact.

“You disgust me more by the second, Lumi,” he hissed
down at me. He called for a guard and asked that I be taken to a
basement cell, one without windows or visible keyholes, as I am
‘one who would escape’. With a searing look at Khan, I was towed
away and locked up for ‘safe keeping’.

Which is where I sit now. I am still sheathed in the
provocative clothing of my sister’s and I have marvelous shiners on
my cheek, elbow and hip. My stomach is red and blotchy from where
the guard threw me into the cart and I look like I’ve been beat to
hell, which, honestly, I have. In my time down here I have come to
the conclusion that the only reason Khan asked me to go was in the
worst case scenario, he would be able to duck out a back door and
saddle up his horse and get home before anyone got over the fact
they found the princess at a human sex craze.

I shake my head to clear it from thoughts of my
brother and parents before I break down in tears all over again.
I’m tired and I don’t want to think about anything besides sleep. I
huff and shift onto my non-bruised side and rest my cheek against
the cool stone floor. And like the first night I got here, my eyes
start to burn before I can drift off to sleep. After a few minutes
of holding it in, I start to cry.

Terror grips my heart when a streak of light comes
down the hall and the man who brought me into the front room that
day, Murphy, follows it. I’ve been up a few hours now and my
stomach has been protesting vehemently all morning. My mouth is dry
and sticky and tastes as though an army has walked all over it. I
was on the verge of passing out before he got to the door of my
cage. He stares at me for a moment and I swear I see a flicker of
pity, but he says nothing. Instead, he opens the door and pulls me
to my feet.

“Has Father asked for me?” I ask. My voice is hoarse
from lack of use but I don’t bother to clear it. No one cares if I
sound like my dainty self right now, especially me.

“No,” he says. “Not necessarily. You are to be
primped and taken to the center of town within the hour.”

I knew it; he’s auctioning me off like cattle. I had
been considering this possibility since I was thrown down here. I’m
sure someone would leap at the chance to gag me (or any faery
princess) to a whipping post…or a headboard. It seems out of
character for my father to pull such a common move, but considering
my record I doubt anyone would frown upon his work. He’s always
wanted to be the ‘kind’ king, and as of this moment he always has
been. Discarding a troubled black sheep won’t change him in
anyone’s eyes. For a minute I consider fighting, but something
tells me I’ve been starved for exactly that reason and I know there
is no point — I couldn’t fight off a gnat at this point.

Murphy settles me into a chair and a few drugged-up
human pets scamper in. He remains; standing close and making sure I
don’t put up a fight as the girls wash and style my hair into rings
and change me into clean, proper attire. I am changed from my party
clothes into a sleeveless blue day dress and flats like a child’s
doll, and I can’t even bring myself to care. A few brushes of
make-up and I look semi-decent, save for the exhausted and
horrified expression in my eyes.

Murphy plucks something out of his pocket and hands
it to me. It’s a wrapped package of saltine crackers and a bottle
of water. “Eat that slowly,” he says. “You don’t want to shock your
system with it.”

I stare at him in shock as my hair is abused with hot
curlers. He ducks his head as if he’s embarrassed for expressing
kindness and I murmur a weak, “Thank you” before ripping the
plastic open. The salty bite of the crackers is possibly the best
thing I’ve ever put in my mouth, though that could be because of my
starvation. At this point I could probably eat a rat and think it
tasted magnificent. “How long was I down there?” I ask, and look at
the boy in the mirror.

“Three days,” he says. “Today would be day four.”

I blink and shake my head. It felt like longer. I
crack open the bottle of water and take small sips per Murphy’s
instructions and nibble on the saltines. Murphy waits to lead me
into town until I have finished my tiny meal, and once I’ve been
properly cleaned and dressed for whatever the occasion is. He leads
me in through the back of the courthouse and my parents and
siblings are standing by, all wearing official clothing and looking
grim. Except Father, though —he looks absolutely giddy.

“Excellent,” he says when he sees me. “Almost
attractive. Thank you, Murphy.”

Murphy nods silently at my father’s praise and steps
aside. There is an uncomfortable quiet in the room; my sisters
refusing to meet my gaze and Khan standing proud as a peacock
beside my parents. I am swaying on my feet and it isn’t long before
Mother and Father step out to address the large group of people
surrounding the building. I can’t see over their heads, but the
crowd is several feet away, surrounding something in a
semicircle.

“As most of you have probably heard by now,” Father
begins in his booming voice, “my second youngest escaped my home
last night and was enjoying carnal activities with humans.”

People begin to murmur and I feel a blush take over
my entire body. That wasn’t how it went at all! I stand silently;
shaking visibly and trying not to meet the eyes of everyone there
—people I know — people I have conversed with at parties and
gatherings, who are now looking over at me like I’m a modern day
hooker. Glancing at my sister Sindri, my usual rock and best
friend, I feel my heart clench when I see even she looks at me like
she doesn’t know me. She breaks my gaze the moment she is caught
and continues to hear Father speak; her dark eyes shimmering with
tears.

“While she is my own blood,” Landric continues over
the chatter, “I am morally obligated to mete out the proper
punishment. What she has done is unacceptable on so many levels,
and I wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea. Even my blood
must obey the law.”

There is a chorus of agreement and I take a few steps
back, wanting to escape. Murphy is behind me though, and he wraps
his arm around my front and walks forward; lifting me off the
ground when I try to squirm away. Without the king’s back shielding
my view, I can see the entirety of the scene now. There is a small
fire in the center of the city with a figure in a dark, hooded coat
beside it. He holds something I cannot see, and I’m momentarily
distracted by the large chair beside him. It almost looks like a
metal dental chair with bondage. I try and yank away from Murphy
once more, but he shakes me like his friend did nights before and
pushes me back against the cool chair. “Just take it, okay?” he
hisses as he secures the iron binds on my wrists and thighs. “I’ve
been here, and if you stay calm it will be over faster.”

“What will?” I say, my voice shaking as I ask. Tears
blur my vision to the point where I can barely even see his face,
and as he mouths ‘Stay still’ and walks away I let out a small sob.
What are they doing? This isn’t standard procedure for an auction,
nor an execution. I have never seen something like this, and it
shakes me to the core.

“In case she ever escapes again,” my father is
saying, “Queen Bronwyn and I have decided to brand Lumikki, in case
she is ever lost again.”

My face flames and I start crying in earnest. I don’t
care who sees, I don’t care if these people think I am a brat or
that my father is a monster. Terror tightens my throat and I
couldn’t care less what the crowd thinks.

The king is still talking but I don’t have the focus
to hear him. My eyes are locked on the man in front of me as he
twirls a piece of metal in his hand. Father booms something and the
crowd roars in encouragement, excited by the show, and the hooded
man lifts the heated iron brand. Although it is a replica of the
magic tattoos we place on the humans, this one is a burn — it will
not heal. It will never fade away. As the man approaches me I try
my damnedest to get my wrist out of the hook on the table, but have
no luck. All I manage to do is make my hands sticky and get blood
all over the dress I’ve been forced into.

I try for pleading instead. “No!” I wail at him;
trying to find a pair of eyes beneath the hood. “I’m begging you
not to do this.”

It’s like he doesn’t even hear me. He twists the
stick into the optimal grip and holds it over my arm. I scream for
my father, sister, or anyone to find it in their heart to jump up
and help me, but no one does. Everyone is watching like it’s a
television show; like there isn’t a girl strapped to a table being
scarred by her parents’ word.

“STOP!” It takes a moment to realize the screaming is
tearing from my own throat, and my body vibrates in terror. “Please
don’t do this, please,
please
—”

But no one cares.

The heated iron is on my skin suddenly and I let out
a death cry. It hurts even more than I thought it would; the cold
burn of the iron only intensified by the heat of the sparks still
clinging to the metal. Smoke comes in waves off my body and the
smell of burnt flesh soars through the air. My hysterical sobbing
is cut off when I am unable to pull in a breath, and even when the
item is removed the searing sensation doesn’t stop.

“Let it be known to all the young, and or stupid ones
who feel the urge to rebel against the Courts. This could be your
fate.”

Murphy is beside me again; lifting me off the table
and carrying me back inside before my father even asks him to. The
man has led me to several problems in the past week and still I
find myself clinging to him for dear life. I saw the pity — I saw
the glimpse of humanity in his eyes and I just want someone to get
me away from here…