Page 56 of The Forbidden Dragon King (Shadow Kings #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Parade Ground, Shadow Military Academy

D aire

“One hundred and fifty lashes,” Caligo announces with smug satisfaction. “Fifty for willfully breaking the rules of the first trial by using shadow portal magic, fifty for moving from the assigned area outside the city, and fifty for working together with a fellow cadet to complete the trial.”

I ignore both Freya’s gaze and her gasp.

One hundred and fifty .

I can survive that.

Maybe.

My remaining magic has been drained by the call for help by my Omega through my pinion feather, followed by the creation of the shadow portal.

Yet I must survive this. For Freya, my brothers and sisters in the featherglass, and my people.

For my Unseelie Kingdom.

I’m the only hope that the Unseelie may one day rise again. I won’t die here at the brutal hand of someone like Caligo.

Under the dying sun, bronze in the battered sky, I’m dragged by Caligo to the whipping post in the center of the parade ground.

The courtyard is silent, apart from the sound of our clattered footsteps and the shrill, angry calls of my ravens, which are circling overhead.

The instructors stand in a rank behind the cadets, who have been ranged close to watch this display as a lesson.

I’m actually relieved about that because I can see them. I’ll take any extra moment that I can with Freya, especially if I die under the whip.

I am surprised how somber the cadets look, even Ignatius. Maybe after receiving a taste of the whip, he can sympathize with how badly this is going to hurt.

Despite everything, there is some solidarity between cadets against Caligo.

I wink at Freya, attempting for charming defiance. I don’t know if I pull it off.

Freya’s face is ashen. Her expression is pinched.

I smile, trying to relax her, as my jacket is yanked off my shoulders. She doesn’t return it .

“Watch and learn from this discipline, you fuckers,” Caligo commands the cadets. “You all performed dismally in the trial. I should whip every last one of you. Weak, lazy cowards who wouldn’t last two minutes in a real battle.”

“I have,” I can’t resist pointing out, “for over a decade.”

Caligo slaps the back of my head. “You lose battles. Isn’t that what fae are best at? Being defeated? Conquered? Dying? ”

“I’m not dead yet.” My wings vibrate with fury.

“ Yet ,” Caligo mocks with deliberate emphasis. “You also broke more rules on the first trial than any previous student.”

“Do I win a prize, sir?”

“Congratulations, you do. One hundred and fifty of them.”

Inside, shame shudders through me, as Caligo yanks me around and shoves me against the hard wood of the whipping post. Then he grips my hands and drags them above my head to bind them into the iron cuffs that hang from the top. I clench my teeth, as the iron burns my wrists.

I am a king but I am being tied before these commoners like they have any right to touch me.

As Quintus thought that he had the right.

As Tiberius did.

They were wrong, however, and I’ll make Caligo pay for it too. He is on my list of those who will be shown the path down to the Shadow Devils by my hand, before all this is over .

I swear it on the sacred ash.

Suddenly, I feel something winding around my ankles.

I glance downward, catching Five’s confused gaze. She meows, questioningly.

Then she rubs against me, narrowing her eyes at Caligo.

“It’s fine, good girl,” I whisper quickly to Five, not wanting her to get caught in this. “Don’t attack. Go on.”

I hate that this may be the last time that I see her, as well as Freya.

Freya promised to take on both Five and me. Will she keep an eye on Five — love her — if I’m forced to leave her today?

When I eventually die from the iron poisoning?

Reluctantly, Five turns and stalks to sit in front of Freya, casting me a final glance. Freya breaks position to stroke my cat’s head.

I try to twist my body, but Caligo slams me hard against the post, before he wrenches my left wing and then my right above my head, binding them with rope to keep them out of the way for the flogging.

Although, the whip will still land on the base of my sensitive wings, and that will bloody hurt.

I swallow hard at the dragon’s sickening touch on my wing. No fae would ever touch your wing without permission. When three of my ravens dive, as if ready to peck out Caligo’s eyes in retaliation, I shake my head at them. Unwillingly, they flap back into the sky.

Caligo grabs the collar of my shirt, yanking it down the middle .

The sound, as it rips from the top to the bottom, echoes around the courtyard.

I flinch.

I calculated that this would happen if I saved Freya.

Killing for the person you love is easy. Suffering, even dying for them, is much harder.

That’s true love.

Caligo pushes the sides of the shirt apart and then laughs.

It sets my teeth on edge.

“Look at all these ugly scars.” Caligo reaches out to trace the line of a raised scar that runs between my shoulder blades. “I always knew that fae were cowardly fuckers. You must have so many on your back because you were always running away from battles.”

Behind me, I hear snickers, which I hope is the instructors and not the cadets.

My hands clench and unclench.

I close my eyes.

Caligo is stroking up and down a scar that I received from a long sword slash, when I was fifteen. It’d been a fierce fight. I’d been leading the featherglass in guerrilla warfare against Tarquin’s forces in Rune Forest. I’d been surrounded by four fighters at once, taking hits from all sides.

I never lost my footing or fell to my knees, even when I was slashed to ribbons down my back, while I was still fighting another dragon who was twice my age at the front.

I slaughtered them all .

I fucking won.

Then my brothers and sisters and I danced under the stars in victory, wild and blood streaked and free .

No one has forced me to my knees, before I was captured by Aurelius.

“Each one of those scars represent a dead dragon,” I say, chillingly calm. “If you still want to keep creepily fondling them, go ahead. The scars that you add to my back today, sir, will represent you .”

“Is that a threat, fucker?” Caligo draws back, punching me hard in the kidneys.

I cough, trying to catch my breath through the pain. Then I grin, viciously pleased at the fear hidden behind Caligo’s violence.

“Give me the whip,” Caligo’s voice shakes with rage.

The sudden shuffling and whispers behind me is my first warning that something is very wrong.

The second warning is the sizzling sound, followed by the choking, sickly magic that crawls against my skin.

It’s Maximinus’ magic.

I’d recognize it anywhere.

I stiffen.

Why isn’t Caligo using a normal whip?

“Open your eyes, fae.” When Maximinus grabs me by the hair and forces my head back, my eyes snap open.

Caligo holds up a long whip that writhes, alive with cursed magic. It’s white with hissing, molten iron.

Fear slithers down my spine.

I will survive this , I chant inside my head, as sweat breaks out on my neck, I will survive this .

Caligo leans closer to whisper, hot and vile as his rusted iron scent, “Not so cocky now, fucker.”

He lets my head go with a shove.

I take a deep breath to attempt to slow my speeding heart.

I flex the strong muscles in my back, before widening my legs to brace myself. “Are we doing this? Or are you trying to bore me to death?”

“Don’t worry, a certain pet-hater forged this whip to help me punish you for what you did to my brother.

” Caligo splays his hand on my back, as if working out where to place his first stroke.

I knew that Maximinus had created this cursed whip.

He can never be trusted, no matter how many secret missions I complete for him.

He’d betray anyone. “It will remind you to be obedient. If you act without permission of your patron, this is what happens.”

A hiss like an angry snake, then a line of fire explodes across my back.

Overwhelming. All-encompassing. Searing.

For a moment, my vision whites out.

“One,” Caligo counts.

Another lash lands.

“Two…”

It cuts like a knife. Blood trickles down my back.

I grunt, struggling to stand still.

I can take this.

I have to.

It’s only pain.

It can’t touch me .

I won’t let it.

But this…? It’s not only pain. It’s cursed magic, iron, worming into my skin and coiling to tangle with the poison already in my blood. The fire of each blow, which curls around my shoulders, across my upper back, and down to the dip of my lower back, is venomous.

It’s Maximinus branding his control deep into my soul.

It’s the Draca Kingdom biting their fangs into the throat of the Unseelie Kingdom.

“Three… Four… Five…”

I’m shaking but I haven’t cried out.

My cheeks are dry.

“Do you want to beg?” Caligo sounds amused. “Ask for mercy?”

I shake my head.

“Good because I don’t allow that weakness in my academy.”

The whip falls again.

Ten, twenty, thirty strokes.

I’m panting hard, shocked at the strength of the magic. I’m shuddering, shutting down.

Is this what dying feels like?

I can’t feel my fingers, my feet, or my wings, only the ball of fire that’s my back.

Then the whip slices across the base of my left wing, and finally, I scream.

Above me, I hear the shrill distress calls of my ravens.

My legs buckle, and I swing from my wrists, feeling one of them dislocate.

I’m panting as I struggle to get my legs back underneath myself.

The whip keeps landing. I choke, unable to catch my breath.

My lungs burn from lack of oxygen.

My vision grays.

I love you, my soulmate. I shall love you into the next life, forever into the shadows.

Freya…

“Stop this. You’re killing him,” Freya howls.

Her voice helps me to focus and draw in slow breaths again. My burning lungs struggle to rise and fall sharply.

I hear a scuffle behind me, but it’s far away, as if I’m floating above my body.

“Don’t.” Ignatius sounds distressed. “You’re making things worse.”

“Look at him. How can they be worse?” Freya demands, anguished.