Chapter 37
Pain.
It’s the only thing my mind can comprehend. It’s the only thing I can feel. Pain. Endless, bottomless, and unfathomable pain.
Then I hear my father call out the number of lashes I’ve received. Two. That’s it. Two. I feel like I have been chained to these posts forever. Like my back has never known a time when it wasn’t in unspeakable anguish.
A scream, a wail of pure agony reaches my ears, and I wonder who it is crying for me. Maryam perhaps. But then the ache in my throat makes me realize it’s me. The wretched sound is coming from me. If I need anything to confirm it, the look on my father’s face when my eyes raise to his does it. He revels in my pain, my tears, my screams.
Another lash falls on my back, and my scream turns into a gasp when I feel my skin tear open. Three. The whip connects with my back again, and I feel wetness leak down my skin when it leaves. The blood begins pooling at the base of my spine, the fabric of my gown, as the lashing continues. My throat goes hoarse, only whimpers and groans leaving my mouth now with each lash.
I feel like my body cannot take another hit, or another ounce of pain, but there’s nothing I can do to avoid it. My body must take more. The lashing continues, and my body begs to sag, but the chains hold me up. My arms plead to wrap around my body, to protect it, but the manacles dig into my skin so tightly I’m sure I’ll have marks from them days from now. Even my head lolling forward hurts, making the skin on my upper back stretch and ache. I’m guessing Mikael had that word with the guard he said he would. He has spread the lashes out instead of constantly whipping one spot again and again, like I’ve seen guards do to other people before. This moment, this punishment cannot get any worse.
And that’s when my father begins talking.
“No one is above the law in Nur.”
Lash thirteen.
“No one, not even the princess, can escape punishment when they defy me.”
Fourteen.
“If anyone is deemed an enemy to my kingdom…”
Fifteen.
“They will be dealt with swiftly and brutally.”
Sixteen.
“The Unspoken One is Nur’s enemy.”
Seventeen.
“Anyone who calls upon him has turned away from what Nur stands for.”
Eighteen.
“Unity.”
Nineteen.
“Prosperity.”
Twenty “And above all… Justice.”
A strangled laugh leaves my mouth at his lies. At his hypocrisy. I use every ounce of energy to raise my head and look at him. If his stare could kill me, I would be dead right here and now. If he could get away with cutting my throat and throwing my body into a river, he would. I swallow around my dry tongue and smile at him. But then my head lolls forward as the last bit of energy leaves me.
A bit of relief fills me now that it’s done, twenty lashes completed. I try to summon my magic, try to bring it forth from my lower belly, but I can’t concentrate enough to do it. Can’t even try to heal myself because the pain is just too much. I wheeze with the effort of trying to conjure it, but then I hear the telltale whistle of the whip in the air. A hoarse scream leaves me as my body arches forward.
“The princess took her treachery a step further.” My father continues as another lash falls on my back. “She maimed guards in defense of The Unspoken One.”
Another lash.
“Royal guards, meant to protect her, protect me, and she assaulted them for an enemy.”
Another lash.
“What is there for a traitor but blood and pain?” my father asks, his voice echoing in the courtyard.
It’s the last thing I hear before darkness closes in on the corners of my vision. Another lash falls, but my body does not move with pain. All it does is sag, the chains cutting off the remaining circulation in my arms as my head drops back, eyes going to the bright sky when another lash tears open new skin on my lower back. My eyes move down, and Maryam comes into my view. Tears run down her cheeks, utter devastation on her face. All sound has stopped reaching me, but I watch Maryam flinch as I feel the whip fall again. Then consciousness leaves me, and the world and it’s pain disappears.
Before my eyes open, before I can even acknowledge where I am and why it’s so cold, why my back is bare, all I register is pain. Pain like I have never felt. Pain that seems to overwhelm all my senses. I groan and even that hurts.
“Shh. Shh. It’s okay,” Maryam’s voice comes from above me.
Then a warm cloth touches my back, and I scream. Or I try to, but my hoarse throat cuts it off and leaves it sounding more like a whimper. It feels like fire explodes through each open wound when the water hits it.
“I’m sorry. So sorry, Ameera. I’m being as gentle as I can.”
Then it all comes back to me. The lashing, why I’m in the cold, damp dungeon, lying on the stiff cot in one of its cells. I cry, even as my sobs make my back constrict and worsen the ache, I cry. Unable to bring my hands up to wipe my tears, they fall on the cot. Maryam smooths her hand down my hair over and over, trying to soothe me. The pain both on my body and in my heart are too much to bear, too much to hold in any longer.
I was lashed, as ordered by none other than my father. My back aches so badly, I don’t know if I will ever feel whole again. If this pain will ever go away or if some phantom of it will always stay with me. The entire village, the nobles, all watched me suffer, watched as the guard exposed my back and hair, watched while blood ran down my skin.
And through all that is the thought of never seeing Hamza again, never holding the man I love in my arms again. That this punishment is probably still not enough to save Maryam from my father’s wrath. He’s probably not even done with punishing me yet.
Because there is still the matter of the marriage agreement. And only that thought makes my crying cease. Because now is the perfect time to set my plan into motion. Now it will make the most sense. Now is when my father will believe every word I say.
“That’s right. Keep it inside. Let it fuel you,” Maryam says softly. “Take this pain and make it useful to you.”
This time when she touches the cloth to my back, I only hiss. The water from the cloth leaks down the sides of my back to my stomach.
“How long have I been out?” I ask hoarsely.
“Almost a whole day. It’s after dinner now.” Then she takes a deep, sorrow-filled breath. “Why did you do it, Ameera? Why did you take my lashes?” she begs for an answer.
“I couldn’t let him punish you.”
“I have told you over and over, that if it ever came down to me or you, to choose you, you stubborn girl.”
“You also told me to do what is right. So I did.”
“Oh, Ameera. I would have taken a hundred lashes before I watched them hurt you. Don’t you know that?” she croaks.
“And that’s exactly why I took the extra lashes. I couldn’t let them whip you. Not for anything, but least of all for teaching me to fight, to thrive.”
The smell of peppermint fills the air moments before I feel her fingers come to my back. She smooths the salve over my back, going from the top of my spine, from side to side, until she reaches my lower back. I barely hold back the whimper that tries to escape me the entire time her hands are on me, but the salve does soothe some, lessening the blazing fire that I felt when I first woke up.
“How are you down here?” I ask. “I know my father would never allow it.”
“There are guards who do not heed your father’s orders as well as others.”
My back stiffens at her words, pain making me immediately regret that movement. Does she know anything about the rebellion? Her words sound eerily familiar to Mikael’s from earlier. I hesitate to ask her. She would never report it to my father, but her interests are always what’s best for Nur. Would she think a rising rebellion was just that? I don’t know. Then I remind myself, this is Maryam. The women who would and has done everything for me. Never betrayed me in any way.
“There is a rebellion rising up,” I whisper.
“I know,” she whispers back. “Who do you think has been feeding them information from inside the palace?”
My shock makes me forget about my back for a moment, and I try to rise to look at her. Just moving my arms underneath me to help me up causes me to yelp before I collapse back down to the cot. Maryam’s hand comes to my shoulder, putting pressure so I don’t try to get up again.
“Be calm, please,” she insists. “Yes, I know of the rebellion. I have given them information and funds ever since your engagement to Azar was announced.”
“Why did you not tell me? Did you not trust me?”
“I trust you with my life. But there are other people at stake here. It is their story to tell or not tell, their risk to take in exposing themselves. Not mine. As for my part, it was not distrust that kept me from telling you, but trying to keep you safe. If your father ever found out, you could truly deny knowing anything about it. I wanted to keep you distanced from it.”
“But why? Why have you funded them?”
“I will not let you fall into Azar’s hand. And I will not let Nur continue to be ruled by a heartless tyrant. Qarun will go, one way…or another.”
Her words settle over me, their meaning clear. I should feel something at the thought of my father dying. I should feel some type of sorrow, sadness, but I feel nothing. Not even happiness at the possible demise of my tormentor. Nothing. Good. Nothingness will serve me well now.
“I have a plan,” I tell her. “And now that all is laid on the table, I feel we can help each other more than I thought.”
I hear her shoes move around the cell until she’s kneeling in front of me, her eyes clashing with mine. There’s an inquisitive, calculating look in them.
“What is this plan of yours?” she questions.
“Something that will get everyone what they want,” I begin.