Painted Blade || sihtric

57.

   "LEAVE her be!" Uhtred bellowed, pulling at the chains attached to his wrists as he watched in fury every time the Wessex guard put a hand on his sister. His face was bloody and covered in bruises and cuts, making him nearly impossible to recognize.

Bemia's body was exhausted, begging to pass out. Her hands balled into fists as she weakly pulled on the chains around her wrists. Cold air licked up her exposed back, making her wince. And then it started again, like the last few hours.

Pain erupted along her bare back, like a wildfire as she jerked forward, barely able to get far away without being pulled back. She could feel it—thick, deep lines carved into her skin each time that whip cracked down, the sound hollowed out her ears as she bit down on her split bottom lip, holding in a scream.

The pain didn't only feel like a burning fire against her skin, but it also blinded her with flashes of white behind her closed eyes. How she had lasted this long was beyond her, however, she knew her body would give out soon.

"Must we continue this punishment to extract the information from you?" Aethelhelm questioned, hands tucked behind his back as he stared at Bemia's bleeding back with no sign of remorse. "Can't you just tell us where Lady Aelfwynn is hiding?"

At least the guard seemed to be hating this—his face sickly white.

"We'll never tell you where she is," Bemia weakly breathed, her head hanging low. "Uhtred, you will not say a thing. I can take this."

Tears were in Uhtred's swollen purple eyes. "I know you can, Bemmi," he croaked, pulling on his chains once again.

The whipping came to a long stop and Bemia opened her red eyes, sucking in a sharp breath as her weak legs struggled to keep her standing, the joints feeling as if they might very well explode from standing for hours without sitting. At one point, she had to let herself hang just to feel a slight second of peace...and of course, it didn't take long for her wrists to start aching, forcing her to stand again.

Suddenly, the chains around her wrists loosened, allowing her body to collapse against the wet, bloodied stone. And as she landed on her chest, another rush of pain washed over her body. That time she did let out a small cry.

She was barely hanging onto consciousness, her heart beating at an unsteady rhythm, her throat swollen—everything was aching and in agony, especially her mind.

Boots scuffed against stone and Bemia weakly opened her eyes as she rolled onto her side, wrists still bound in chains.

Aethelhelm crouched down in front of her, his eyes roaming her bare chest that she could barely cover with her groaning knees. Bile rose in her throat from the lust in his eyes and she prayed as hard as she could that he wouldn't try to do anything to her because she sadly knew that her body wouldn't be able to put up much of a fight at all.

"Lucky for you," Aethelhelm drawled, his eyes looking back up to hers, "your torture is done for now."

At those words, Bemia nearly let out a cry of relief. But the relief blew up in front of her when Aethelhelm drove his knuckles into her nose. Even while already on the ground, her head snapped back, and her vision turned blurry as a crack sounded. Her whole body rolled onto her back and an ear-splitting scream tore out of her swollen throat as tears streamed down her face from the throbbing agony through her back and face.

"Bemia!" Uhtred roared, anger pulsing through his body as he was held back by the chains. "I'll kill you for this, Aethelhelm! I swear it!"

Warm, wet liquid gushed out of Bemia's nose like a river, the taste of copper dripping into her mouth. She could barely keep her eyes open and when they were, all she could see were black dots as she continued to sob, not caring anymore to stay strong.