71 | ACT IV, SCENE X

P R E V I O U S L Y

It was my brother, Aidon.

[TRIGGER WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS EXPLICIT DESCRIPTION OF VIOLENCE. PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION.]

EDWINA

"AIDON..." I CHOKED OUT. "AIDON you can't possibly..."

"Yes, sister, I can," he said in an unnaturally cold voice, leaning close to me.

"You are my brother," I whispered, my voice hopelessly close to cracking. He was Aidon - he was brother, my loving brother-

"I was your brother. Now tell me how to open the cube," he snapped purposefully.

"Why the fuck do you want the cube?" I demanded.

"I need the Logogram. Now tell me how to open it, you worthless bitch!"

Aidon's hand gripped my bleeding throat, smearing my cheek with my own blood as he bored his eyes into mine - eyes of death, eyes of wickedness.

His gaze glimmered like water laced with poison, dripping with ominous cruelty. He was not the Aidon I knew - the man I'd known would never have done this - there had to be some kind of mistake... he was my brother, the brother who'd stood by my side as I wept over my dead mother, the brother who'd cared, the brother who'd loved.

"You have no idea who I am, do you?" he rasped, tracing a callous finger down my cheek, now slick with blood and sweat. "I know your little secret. I found it. It was right there in the Louvre-"

Before I could make sense of what he was saying, Aidon gripped my elbow in a pincer hard lock and pulled.

My right hand broke.

The pain burned around my innards better than boiling water. Everything felt scalded and, move or not, I was in more pain than I could have ever imagined was possible. A strike of the Bloodstone in my heart would be a mercy right now.

Instead, Drusilla put a hand around the stone buried in my hip, and pushed it further in.

I bit back a stifled scream.

Tristan, I whispered to myself. Tristan, please. I should have let him kill me - anything would be better than his cruelty, anything would be better than to be carved like a piece of meat in the hands of this butcher.

And I knew, deep down - that they would torture me till I screamed for death. And my body - oh god - they would send it to Tristan... gods, no - it would break him to pieces.

The poison was working faster now, tearing my organs apart like a knife through butter, robbing me of my ability to even think coherently.

"And now?" Favian drawled. "What will you give, huh? Your eyes? Your hands? What about your heart?"

"I'll give my life if that is what it takes. If you pay me for silence, I will scream. If you beg me to speak, I'll sew my lips shut."

The five of them laughed, and Aidon chuckled hoarsely. Drusilla donned an excited smile, tossing her raven black hair behind her shoulder in a way similar to her mother.

"Well then, Edwina," she chimed. "It's showtime."

Aidon picked up the thumbscrew and positioned it right over my index finger.

"Not the left hand. Take her sword hand," Aeneas added suggestively.

"You little fucker."

He gave me a nudge in the broken ribs as more fire bloomed into my wounds.

"Ready?" he grinned. "One, two and... three."

I thrashed and writhed in the chains as I felt the screw begin to crush my finger. Not a clean break, but thousands of little pieces of bone trapped in limp skin. It felt like needles pushed into the concentrated spot of pain, needles pushed three inches deep.

I almost passed out, drowning into unconsciousness.

"Shh, it's alright," Aidon whispered lovingly, even as evil shone in his eyes. "You could never have won. It was cruel of them to make you fight. It was never your fault."

My remaining four fingers followed after.

Each peak robbed my ability to speak, sending me crashing to the bare boards. It was as though my blood had become acid, intent of destroying me from the inside out.

I didn't know by what force of nature I managed to keep my mouth shut without letting a single scream escape.

Drusilla's sadistic touch probed and poked, mutilated and cut my body. On and on she laughed, reveling in the pleasure, the power of hurting me... finally, after all those threats.

There was something about the sadistic nature of power. Anyone could inflict pain. But this - Drusilla enjoyed this. She enjoyed watching my blood pool on the floor as she traced her blade over my skin. She enjoyed watching my muscles tense as her fingers stroked the back of my broken neck, cracking the rest of the bones into splinters. And I was a killer too... I knew how it felt.

To have someone who practically loathed you bleed in your hands... that sort of power was intoxicating.

"Poor thing," she whispered. "You aren't getting out of this. Not this time."

"No man has ever escaped my final blow, you know?" Alaric explained softly.

"Good thing... I'm not - a man," I wheezed, letting my head fall back against the wall.

"Go on. Try to hold out. I'll take that much longer to kill you off," Drusilla threatened. She grabbed hold of my ankle and slowly turned it the other way, twisting the broken bone.

I almost howled out with misery.

"You... bitch."

My voice had begun to fade into my throat. A little longer and I'd be unable to speak completely. The lethal poison from the Stone had begun to spread up my muscles and started to adulterate my bloodstream. A few more hours and I'd die from the overload of the poison itself.

But I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing my fear or hear my scream.

"Alright," Aeneas said happily. "I'll do your toes now."

Crack, went the toe. Crack, went the rest of my bones. Crack, crack, crack, the piercing sound dug deep within me, going through anything and everything. It was ear-splitting and piercing, my ears popped and my drums burst, and streams of blood began to flood my ear holes, and drip off my earlobes. My eyes watered in agony but the tears obeyed my wishes, not falling. I knew I was close to the edge now.

"Let's make a deal. Tell me how to open it. I'll give you a quick death," Aidon offered with a chortle.

"Never," I growled

He picked up the flaying knife with the gleam in his eyes and noticed my body begin to tremble

"Poor thing," he murmured. "Backed into a corner. They praise you for your courage and yet call you a monster when you fight back. Hush now. It's alright. You can die here."

Aidon carefully cupped my cheeks, and picked up the flaying knife.

"Rest in peace knowing that you can never be more of a monster than I am, Edwina Tremayne."

Those words should not have sounded so reassuring.

But they did.

• • • • •

HARTINGTON CASTLE, ALNWICK, STORMHOLT.

TRISTAN

It was midnight.

The fireworks started to go off.

They wouldn't stop, not already for an hour.

And she - Edwina - she had left.

She had looked like the very personification of revenge, with smoke in her eyes and death at her back, in her poisonous black dress and deadly red lips, the string of diamonds around her throat sparkling.

Not even a single goodbye - that was how worthless I was to her.

I turned my attention back to the box in my pocket. The gift I'd gotten for her. I'd meant to show it to her and I walked in to find her kissing my brother.

I let her in. I fucking let her in and she broke me.

I should never have fallen in love with her.

Suddenly - a flash. A snap. A bone broken.

More and more sounds floated into my head, like whispering voices - sounds of pain, sounds of agony, sounds of death.

Help, they tried to cry out. Help, they're going to kill me.

A bone. A knife. A blade scraping against skin.

"Stop," I breathed, pausing to cover my head. But the voices - the voices didn't stop. They clouded my voice and judgment like wine, making it impossible to think.

Suddenly, I reeled back, tripping against a chair and gripping the handle, nearly on my knees.

I felt like I'd been stabbed right in the chest-

-I looked down to see my robes. No blood. No wound. No injury. Nothing but the fleeting pain, pain so intense that I felt like I had been dying.

"Tristan?" Lunette placed a soft hand on my shoulder, and I cracked an eye open to find her curiously looking at me.

"I'm fine... I-"

"-come and watch the fireworks with me," she insisted. I waved her off but the blonde pressed further, and I winced a bit still as I got up and went with her.

I remembered standing on terrace and staring up at the sky as the foolish rockets burst and fell.

There was Verona with Edmund, both laughing. She squealed with delight as a cracker spluttered into smoke at her feet.

All I could think of was her.

Yet she was no longer mine. I no longer had any right to feel it.

"Hmm, this will be a big one," Eric muttered to Amphitrite standing beside him. She had accidentally spilled wine on her light blue dress, then changed into a white one.

Had I been able to have it my way, I wouldn't have invited either of them.

Yet Eric was a King. Amphitrite was his wife, making her Queen Consort - not a Queen Regnant like Edwina, who fully possessed all the rights to rule. Yet Eric was of the Triarchy too, and he still owned the power to go wherever he pleased, regardless of whether I wished it or not - just like me, he too enjoyed the right to break protocol.

"Beautiful night, Tristan," she giggled.

I did not care to answer. I had stopped caring about everything, about everyone, except for one.

The rockets burst, filling the sky with millions of golden stars, drawing murmurs of approval from the tipsy, clapping crowd.

Pangs of longing shot through my heart. I saw Emerick and Justaline watching the crimson red stars and then looking at each other. I watched Llewellyn kiss Vanessa on the cheek. Celestina was nowhere to be seen, good riddance.

Erida and Cymbeline were standing right near the front with Halette, commenting on the fireworks.

Missing her came in waves, drowning me in  emotions when I should have stayed afloat.

"Tristan?" Halette shrieked, violently shaking my shoulders. "Tristan!"

"What?" I hissed, taking note of her wild eyes as she furiously motioned to my wrist.

That was when my eye fell on the line.

The line Edwina and I had cut on each other's wrists on the day of our wedding.

The Blood Ritual.

The line that disappeared entirely only when the other died.

Halette shrieked again and I let out a panicked gasp.

The line was nearly gone. And it was fast  disappearing into my skin like a stone in water.

• • • • •

Shit just hit the fan. This chapter literally put all our babies in such soup. Tristan is heartbroken, and if he manages to find Edwina... gods, it will be devastating. That is, if she manages to live. Because given the condition she's in right now - the chances of her making it alive are VERY SLIM. She's been tied and mutilated for hours, guys. And she's lost so much blood.

It's gonna be a shame if she dies before telling Tristan she loves him.