The Last Princess [EDITED]

Chapter 3

TEN lashes later, Ivy and Branch left. Forreston and I were left alone.

I would never, in my whole life, be able to forget the scratchy sound of the whip being drawn out from his belt. Usually, it was handed to his mother or father, but today, he got to do the honors.

No matter how many times they did this, it always hurt. A lot. It was strange how elves thought if you were hurt once, it wouldn't be so bad if you were hurt again. That wasn't true. Perhaps you could manage the pain better, but it always got worse.

And yet I was determined not to scream. I hardly ever did, because they took that as an act of submission and left. And much as I would like that, there was no way I would ever submit to them.

So, there I was, biting my lip so hard it was bleeding, while Forreston aimed the whip at my back. The stings burned, and they were perfectly timed, so there was no breathing space to get over one lash before another came.

My back, I was sure, was a bloody mess, the back of my gown torn away. This was the main reason I never wore deep-backed dresses. The scars were all too visible.

"Twelve," Forreston said. I could hear the grin in his voice. Obviously to remind me, because I could not count in my present state. All I could do was cling to the stones of the already bloodied wall and keep from collapsing.

The most they had ever done was two years ago, when I had tried to escape with Juniper. I didn't know the exact number, but it was too much. I'd nearly died then.

I could barely keep myself up. My legs were weakening bit by bit, sinking slowly onto the more merciful stones. I knew I couldn't hold out much longer. "Done yet?" Forreston asked mockingly.

"Don't even think about it," I said raggedly, even though inside I was screaming in agreement. So, he continued. I took a ragged gasp as my legs gave away under me.

I collapsed on the stone floor, banging my head, though that was nothing compared to my back. I heard Forreston give a satisfied grunt above me, and I heard his footsteps fading away.

I clutched my side, gasping. I couldn't handle this.

My thoughts floated back to my sisters — mostly Juniper. She gave me strength. Her voice floated back to me. El, you can do it! Be brave!

I heeded her advice, as well as the one about never losing hope. And it all faded to black.

***

A stinging burn woke me up.

Just on my right wrist, a searing pain caused me to open my eyes. Slowly, as they adjusted to the light, I saw Forreston standing over me, smirking. He dropped the hot iron rod and turned away.

I tried to breathe.

Iron was deadly to elves. Forreston always wore gloves while using it. But on the skin of an elf, well, it wasn't very pleasant. Luckily, the bars of my cell and the bench was made of rock. I always avoided the iron chains, though.

My wrist had a long red burn over it. That wound would heal eventually, and the scar would fade away. I turned my attention to more pressing matters.

I made sure I couldn't hear his footsteps, and finally propped myself up on one elbow, fighting another small migraine. Luckily, I hadn't had one of those during the Ceremony, or the whipping.

A soft, dark blue gown had been laid out on the bench. Maple had been here, then. And there was a large mirror. Grimacing, I pushed myself up. I was very careful not to stretch my back. But it still hurt.

Limping slightly, I made my way to the mirror. Holding my breath, I turned around and looked at my back.

It was covered in blood.

That much was expected. But it was dried, which was also a disadvantage, because I couldn't tell where the wounds were. I had never had any healing after these . . . incidents.

But I healed quickly. The one piece of luck I'd had. The lashes, though they stung, weren't fatal and would heal on their own. I'd only ever been close to death after Juniper's murder.

Gasping, I changed into the deep blue dress laid out, and looked at myself in the mirror again.

How much it concealed.

But sleep lines ran over my hands, my face. How long had I been out?

I looked at the iron rod, an idea striking me.

I pulled the long sleeve of my dress over my hand and grabbed the rod. Holding it, I banged it against the bars of my locked cell. A guard came running immediately.

"What is it?" He said testily.

With as much dignity as I could muster, I replied, "Just how long was I . . . asleep?"

The guard pursed his lips. "Well, since last night. So almost a day?" He plodded away, his steel boots clanking on the floor.

It felt as though something was squeezing my heart. A whole day.

With so few days left in my life, I treasured every moment. Now I had lost a whole day.

I sat down on the stone bench. Three more days left. Just three more days of my life.

Bit of a short chapter and a filler, sorry! I did change the punishments, because honestly, the numbers I had before were too much! A lot of people commented on that :) Action coming up next! Don't forget to:

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