Page 114 of Temptation Unleashed

Realization struck him.

He knows.He cut his gaze to Shaye. Shaye watched him, his expression stoic as stone. He revealed naught.

Bloody hell, what did you tell him?

Dagda leaned over, his head a few inches above Thaddeus’s, and said quietly, “You are not the only Fae gifted with a gilded tongue.”

Thaddeus’s shoulders folded. He lowered to his heels.

“’Tis a pity you chose the path you did when you were granted youranam cara. Stabbing your King in the back with his own dagger is an inconceivable act, whatever the motivation may have been. You shall receive due punishment for your crimes. True, you aided in the capture and execution of Grison and Cecir, preventing further devastation to Faery due to their rebellious ideas, and turned yourself over to me willingly and without fight. I have ensured the pain of your torture shall be short and your sentence carried out quickly.”

Thaddeus dared to raise his head again and watched Dagda return to his throne on the dais.

’Twas it? No further inquiries? No further reasons sought? Aye, ’twasn’t that he was not grateful for the short questioning, but…

Dagda raised his hand, signaling the start of his sentence. From the corner of the room, a fourth guard emerged, dressed from head to toe in black. A black leather whip was draped over his gloved hand, four tails with their ends pierced through with metal.

Thaddeus swallowed hard, the first stir of unease teasing his gut.

Iron.

Two of his guard escorts flanked him again, lifting him from his heels and straight up on his knees. The third guard appeared before him, placing a narrow bench on the floor. The two holding his arms tugged him forward, stretching him over the wood top, and secured the shackles at the foot of the bench.

The linen shirt was torn open, exposing the taut curve of his back.

He squeezed his eyes shut, biting back the nervousness rising rapidly. His fingers fisted as his executioner’s footsteps settled behind him.

Iron clinked against the marble floor.

Tension rode through his muscles. Pressure built in his head from the fast-flowing blood, muffling subtle sounds. His breaths became short, ragged, anticipating the inevitable blow.

“You shall not cease lest I command it of you, do you understand?”

“Aye, King of Realms.”

“Very well. You may begin.”

Crack!

The first lash struck without mercy, the iron spikes shearing through his flesh. Blinding pain exploded through him. He barked, unable to bite it back. Hell unleashed a spray of lava over his back, the pain unreservedly intense to the point of mindlessness. The open wounds bled freely, warm, sticky liquid creeping along newly carved terrain.

Crack!

The spikes tore through fresh flesh and tattered, damaged flesh. Gouged out bits of muscle. He arched, teeth clenched, spittle sieving on hard exhalations. The iron’s effects began to seep into his body, searing paths through tissue and muscle.

Crack!

Young Thaddeus chased Cael and Shaye down the hillside, magic weaving between their fingers. ’Twas his turn to tag them and knock them into the river, as they’d done to him. He’d enjoy watching them flap like Fae fish. ’Twould be the perfect ending to their hunt and seek…

Flash memories. Childhood memories. Times long since lost, marred by the shadows of his actions that failed to dull the searing pain overwhelming his senses. His muscles weakened, iron poisoning his body, sapping him of strength. The tension in his arms pulling back on the shackles drained.

Goddess, he would see this through. He would see this through to the bitter end.

Crack!

He received the letter on fine parchment, royal parchment, each curve and loop of penmanship artistically constructed. Cael tried to snatch it from him, but he took the letter and sifted to where he would not be disturbed. ’Twas a letter for his eyes alone. A call from the princess of the Tuatha de Danann.

His face twisted in agony and shame. Goddess, what he would give to return to that day and tear up that letter. Burn the parchment and spread the ashes in a river. To follow in his friend’s footsteps, decline her invitation, and stand firm in his decision.