Chapter 22 The Consequences of the First Undoing

Chapter 22 The Consequences of the First Undoing
The hall fills with movement as the girl on the ground is lifted by two attendants and carried away in a rush. Her limp arm swings as they hurry past, followed by a crowd of whispering girls trailing behind them like frightened birds.
Their voices echo down the corridor, soft and frantic, girls from the other groups also gather as they inquire from those who had seen the entire thing about what had gone wrong, so fast that someone had to be carried out looking almost lifeless.
Amaris barely hears any of it... She is trembling and at the same time, she is happy that with that, no one, not even Rhea, would be messing with her anytime soon.
The head woman stops in front of her, her gaze sharp in a way that makes Amaris straighten instinctively. “You will come with me,” she says. Her tone is calm but firm, almost too calm, as if she is restraining her own questions until they are somewhere private.
Amaris nods without any restraints.
Her throat feels tight and she knows that whatever it is that will happen outside here will absolutely not be something nice. No one will compliment or award someone who beats a fellow woman up within minutes of meeting her.
The woman gestures for her to walk ahead, keeping several steps behind her, giving her distance as though she might lash out again. The corridor seems twice as long on the walk down, every footstep heavy and muffled on the stone floor.
The woman leads her to a door she has not noticed before, one tucked away at an angle behind a staircase. She unlocks it with a key ring that jingles softly in her hand.
The door creaks open to reveal a small stone chamber. It is not much larger than a pantry and holds nothing but the cold floor and a low wooden bench pushed to one side.
It would be an overstatement to call the place a small prison... But that is what it is. Her own solitary confinement, within three hours of arrival at the Palace...
How ironic.
“This is temporary,” the woman says quietly. “Someone will speak with you soon. Stay here until then.”
Amaris wants to explain, she wants to say or to yell to someone, anyone that is willing to listen to her, that she had not meant to hurt anyone, that she had not even realized what she’d done.
But the woman closes the door before she can form the words, a loud click following as the lock slides back into place.
Darkness settles around her like thick cloth.
She stands still for a moment, breathing through her nose, fighting the urge to panic. Her wolf shifts beneath her skin, restless and uneasy, whispering that this confinement feels wrong but it's all whispers in there, the cold walls not helping with the sudden pang of claustrophobia crawling up her neck.
Time blurs. Her breaths slow. She counts them until she loses track.
Then the sound of footsteps approaching finally has her hopeful again, looking forward to being able to explain her own point of view to the person... How they were picking on her, how she has had enough of it and felt suffocated and had no choice but to retaliate, but she had not even intended on hitting her that hard.
But as the footsteps draw closer and closer, she realizes that they are heavy ones, far from being the steps of a woman
And ufortunately they are familiar to her, especially as the same rhythm of steps had walked to warn her at the courtyard earlier.
Amaris backs helplessly into the wall, hopinh the footsteps would walk right past her... But, she has never had a really lucky life.
The lock turns again and light spills into the small room. The silhouette in the doorway blocks most of it. When he steps inside, she recognizes him instantly.
The head of security.
He closes the door behind him and the room drops back into dimness. Even in the low light, the smile on his face is unmistakably pleased.
“I warned you,” he says, his voice low and smooth. “I warned you only a few hours ago, and yet you could not even manage one day without causing trouble.”
Amaris swallows, fear climbs up her spine like cold water.
“I did not mean to hit her, not to make her unconscious, i just did not like how they were mistreating me and I had to stand up for myself,” she says quietly, trying feebly to explain to this person that she knows is not listening to her.
And his next words only affirm it.
The security head laughs under his breath. “You are a vicious little thing. And you think that excuse will save you?”
He steps closer and she instinctively backs up until her shoulders touch the wall. He studies her face with a mocking tilt of his head, as though he is trying to decide what she is made of.
“You are lucky someone did not die because of you,” he continues. “This palace does not tolerate danger, we handle it quickly.”
Only then does she notice him reaching for the buckle at his waist.
Her heart drops.
He pulls free a long whip that's attached to his belt, its dark leather glinting faintly in the low light. He lets it drag lightly along his hand as if savoring the moment.
“No,” she breathes, barely audible as she takes panicked steps back into the wall, hoping that it would just open and shield her from the oncoming onslaught.
The head of security smiles. “Maybe this will teach you how to behave since words are not doing the trick.”
He lifts his arm and the whip arcs through the air. The crack is loud enough to jolt her entire body.
The first strike lands across her shoulder and back.
Pain blooms instantly, fast and hot and sharp. It tears through her so fiercely that she cries out, the sound ripped from her chest before she can stop it.
Her knees buckle, her hand grasping at the stone wall to remain upright. Tears sting her eyes, blurring the outline of the man standing before her.
Her wolf snarls inside her mind, furious and wild.
'Let me out! Let me out! Let me out!'
But Amaris cannot move a single limb.
She cannot think any coherent thoughts, especially not one that would release her body into the hands of the same wolf that only almost killed a girl, she would totally maim the man if she gets the opprtunity to, and it is then, that her, Amaris, will really become a rogue.
She can only gasp through the pain, trembling, knowing the arm holding the whip is lifting again.
And knowing the next one will hurt even worse...
With every fibre of her hurt being, she lets out a piercing scream.