The medicine man came several minutes afterward and forced more sleeping
potions down Sally’s throat. He also gave her potions for her fever and headache.
“How is she?” Baski asked.
The old man hesitated. “She’s holding out, barely. Her body is healing, and I hope
to heavens her mind is too. It still isn’t assured if she will get through this. You must
be prepared for the wor–”
Danika snapped her head up fiercely. “She’ll survive! Don’t say that, doctor!
She’ll be fine! S-Sally is a fighter. My Sally is a fighter. Sh-she will be fine! She will
be,” she cried.
Baski grabbed her and hugged her to her chest impulsively. Danika was breaking
apart right in front of her eyes. Sob after sob racked her throat as she burrowed deeper
into Baski.
Time passed. The medicine man finally left after giving last instructions. He’d said
that the potions would keep Sally deeply asleep until morning or even into the
afternoon.
Baski finally said goodnight again, and it was only Danika in the room with Sally.
She sat on the floor, staring at Sally, and her chest hurt badly. Sally was that way
because of her. The knowledge was like a stab to her heart with each breath.
Danika closed her eyes and recalled Sally’s pained screams in the courtroom. Her
screams stayed in her head. She opened her eyes and could only see how they found
her broken body bleeding profusely as she lay on the table.
Earlier in the day, Baski had mixed some kind of potion from a leaf Danika hadn’t
seen before and opened Sally’s legs to apply them. There were visible bruises there,
but Baski poured the potion into her body carefully. She’d explained that the potions
would kill the ejaculations from the kings to prevent conception and push all of it
right out of her and fight any disease they had exposed her to.
Baski was right because it didn’t take long before the whitish fluids started pushing
out of her body, mixed with the potion. Afterward, Baski carefully used water to
insert her two fingers inside and wash her as carefully as she could manage without
poking her bruises or hurting her more.
Then she’d brought out a pill from her med bag and carefully inserted it into
Sally’s body. This will help… um, tighten those muscles, heal the bruises inside and
have her body back together in no time, she’d explained.
Danika remembered thanking her profusely. She couldn’t thank Baski enough.
Now, she sat down on the cold ground, her back leaning on the wall and her heart
aching. Staring at Sally now, looking so small on that bed, and remembering
everything, Danika’s chest was almost suffocating her. She closed her eyes and heard
Sally’s screams.
This pain… it hurt too much. Nothing had ever hurt more than that-not even
being whipped by the wicked mistress. Not even being the one in Sally’s place now.
What Baski told her in the afternoon came back to her…
“You shouldn’t go in there because the only thing that would hurt more than being
on that table for the kings is watching and hearing your loved one doing it for you,
and you’re helpless to stop it.” She’d added, “You can ask King Lucien. He knows
how that feels more than anybody.”
Danika’s eyes closed and tears coursed down her cheeks. She didn’t know how
long had passed. Her heart was so heavy. The pain inside her was so heart-wrenching;
she needed a distraction from the pain, or it would be the death of her.
Danika raised trembling hands to her collared throat and squeezed. The different
pain felt better. Any pain would feel better than the one tearing her apart from the
inside out.
Danika rose from the floor and wiped her tears. She didn’t know where the courage
came from and didn’t think about it. Her brain had shut down, and she could only feel
pain.
She locked the door for Sally’s safety. With each step she took, her legs carried her
to the king’s chambers.
Lucien lay on the bed, and his subconscious took him back to that very day in
Mombana. He was in chains after being whipped that morning. His back was
bleeding. His feetwere bleeding, where Cone made him step on shattered glasses and
laughed while they dragged him in chains through the shards.
Back in chains, he was barely awake. It was one of the hundreds of times he came
face to face with death. Cone was still angry at him for killing his guard and saving a
girl the guards were raping. She was one of his subjects.
He hadn’t eaten anything in three days, and the torture sessions had him on the
verge of death.
Vetta had been in the cage next to him, and even though they were supposed to
stay away from him, Vetta crawled from her cage to his own. That was where she was
when the guards came. They dragged her by the hair away.
There was a guard named Coza. He was the cruelest of all the guards. He was the
chief rapist who molested both women and children. Coza hated Lucien too much;
he’d hinted that he wanted to kill him because of the way he tried to stop him from
doing awful things to the Salem slaves.
It was Coza’s buddy that he killed, which made Coza’s anger for him boil harder.
The man lived to see him die. Coza had watched his friend drag Vetta away. He
brought out his whip, ready to strike Lucien’s already battered body.
But Declan ran from his cage and blocked the whip’s path.
“No! Please, he’s bleeding too much already! He’s almost dead!” he’d pleaded.
Declan shielded him with his own body.
Coza had laughed and pushed Declan aside. He’d fallen because he hadn’t eaten in
days.
“I’ve always wanted to kill him, your prince!” Coza snarled. “He’s freshly tortured
and already at the brink of death. I can kill him and King Cone would never know
better!” Coza started whipping his bloody back again.
Lucien gave no reaction, but he could feel his own skin ripping open with each
stroke of the whip. Then he felt a weight on top of him. Declan had fallen on him,
shielding Lucien’s body with his own. Declan was twenty-two when he was twenty-
nine.