She makes a small gesture with her hands, and horror floods through me as two guards step forward and I see what they’re carrying. Whips. Long, vicious-looking things, with metal tips that gleam in the throne room’s colorful lights.
Zari stands to the side, watching the proceedings with cold satisfaction, her delicate features composed in a mask of righteous fury.
“No,” I whisper, but it’s too late.
The first lash tears across my back like liquid fire. I scream, the sound echoing off the marble walls and soaring ceiling. The second strike follows immediately, and the third, each one sending waves of agony throughout my entire body.
But through the pain, through the horror and betrayal and fear, something new is building inside me. Something hot and fierce and utterly furious. A rage un
