Page 7

“What punishment did you give my... brother?” I force the word out, bitterness coating my tongue.

“500 lashes,” Kyson answers, his words landing like a heavy blow. My eyes widen in shock, and his grip tightens on my arms.

“Not Peter,” he quickly clarifies, sensing my panic. “Let me explain.”

My heart pounds in my chest as I nod, desperate to understand the reasoning behind this brutal punishment.

“Ester knew who Marrissa was and could have prevented my sister’s death. She needs to be punished for that,” Kyson explains, his voice filled with a mix of anger and frustration.

“But Peter can’t heal. He hasn’t shifted yet,” I interject, a pang of worry coursing through me. It’s clear to me that there’s no way he could survive such a merciless beating.

“Ester will receive the lashes. And Peter will administer half of them. The other half, I will,” Kyson states matter-of-factly. I shake my head in disbelief. How can he expect Peter to whip his own mother? It sounds barbaric and cruel.

Kyson growls at me when he notices my glare. “You won’t let me kill him, and I can’t without breaking the law! You will go along with this, Azalea. You don’t have to like the ruling, but you will stand by it. Or I will kill Ester. If you don’t want me to kill them, you will agree,” he snaps, his frustration palpable.

“You can’t kill Peter,” I assert, my voice filled with determination.

“No, by law I can’t. But that won’t stop me from breaking that law if you disagree. So either you agree to their punishment or...” Kyson’s voice trails off, leaving the threat hanging in the air.

I growl in defiance, refusing to let him harm Peter. He’s just a child, caught in the crossfire of this complicated situation.

“He killed our baby!” Kyson’s voice rises, his pain and anger intertwining.

“And Ester could have prevented my sister’s death! They need to be punished. And if you won’t let me kill them, then this is it. What they did is punishable by death. And I will not be seen as weak because my mate is too soft,” he growls.

“Soft? You are the only one who sees mercy as soft, My King. Mercy is not weakness; there is strength within it. It takes a stronger person to forgive than it does to punish another,” I retort, my words laced with conviction.

Kyson laughs bitterly, pushing me off his lap and standing up. I turn on the bed, watching him walk over to his bar with a mix of apprehension and concern.

“They don’t deserve forgiveness. Not even this is enough. Mercy is for the weak. Forgiveness? They will find none from me,” he snarls, tipping the bottle to his lips and taking a long swig. I despise when he drinks, knowing that it only fuels his anger.

“Then you truly are the weak one,” I sneer, rising to my feet as the bottle shatters against the wall, causing me to flinch. He moves so swiftly that I barely have time to steady myself before his hands grip my arms tightly, his growls reverberating in the room.

“You are weak! Falling to your knees to save an enemy. Forgiveness gets you killed. It gets you nothing!” Kyson roars, his grip tightening.

“No! You’re wrong,” I growl back, mustering all the strength I can find as I grip his wrists firmly. Anger courses through my veins, and he eventually releases his hold, glaring down at me with a mixture of frustration and confusion.

“You know nothing!” he growls, turning away from me in an attempt to regain control of his emotions.

“I know I forgave you!” I assert, my voice filled with determination.

“Forgave me? I never did anything to warrant needing forgiveness!” Kyson protests, his voice laced with incredulity.

“No? You nearly killed me when you destroyed our bond!” I spit out, the pain of that betrayal still fresh in my mind. “Yet I forgave you for it. I forgave you for using the calling on me to manipulate me. I forgave your punishments, no matter how misguided they were. I forgave you! So if that makes me weak, then what does it make you for accepting it?” My words hang in the air, a challenge directed at him.

Kyson growls in response but remains silent, his anger consuming him.

“I am not changing the punishment, and you will not ask me to. They need to be punished for what they did,” he snaps, his tone filled with fury.

“I agree,” I concede, my voice softening. “But you won’t kill them,” I assert, refusing to let violence be the solution. There has to be another way, a path that allows for redemption and growth.

Kyson seems taken aback by my words, his eyes searching mine for any sign of wavering.

“As you said, I don’t have to like the punishment, but one must be given. But once it’s done, it is done, Kyson. I won’t allow you to continue punishing him,” I declare firmly, my resolve unwavering.

“And you won’t interfere?” he asks cautiously, uncertainty in his voice.

I swallow hard, knowing the weight of this decision. I understand Kyson’s need for vengeance, but harboring such hate is not something I can bear.