Page 365 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

Focused or not, the man in black prowling through the onlookers could be only one soul, his cousin following behind.

So…

That’s where Barry went.

I should’ve known.

“What is this?”

A sob cracked out of me, and I prayed Moros mistook it for relief at the reprieve. Prayed he didn’t realize it was relief at the man now standing before me.

Blinking the blur away, I focused on his slick black slacks, black button-up shirt, and broad hands tucked into his pockets. It was his glare that left me breathless.

Anger.

Soul-deep rage trained on me like he could ignite me with his gaze alone.

On a sob, I bowed my head, letting the chains take my weight. Moros answered. “Your pet forgets her place. We are reminding her of it.”

“My. Pet.” Two syllables, laced with a reckoning, and my body returned to its shaking. “Mine. So why is she here?”

“She interfered with a sentence.”

“Do take all day to deliver basic information, brother,” Adrastos drawled. “You know how riveting I find your fondness of the vague.”

“Fletcher Hadriana has proven most uncooperative. Thirty lashes would likely loosen his tongue.” A low scoff. “Alas, your pet intervened after five.”

Thirty…

Thirty lashes. That boy would’ve been ground fucking beef. Dead.

I…

I was going to die.

That realization didn’t elicit the fear it probably should’ve. Magnolia’s face flashed in my mind, and sorrow for her was the only emotion to compete with the reassurance that this would all be over soon.

“Last I checked, a master was responsible for the discipline of their slaves. Unless you’ve failed to make me privy to changes, she is my responsibility. Therefore, her punishments are within my jurisdiction. Beyond that, I own her in both mind and body—and you have shared that which belongs to my eyes only. I think your guards remember what happens to men who defile my prizes.”

I was trembling so hard the chains were rattling against the post.

“The law stands clear, brother.” Moros’ voice turned callous, the title more insult than kinship. “As does your temper. But you, of all my men, are aware that to intervene in a punishment is to absorb it⁠—”

“In one’s own flesh,” Adrastos finished. “Clearly, I’m well aware.” The way he said it felt more than a little pointed, and not for the first time, I wondered how he’d earned those lashes to begin with. “But the law also states that a man’s property is to be molded at his discretion. Did I or did I not purchase this witch at auction?”

Never in my life had I prayed to be owned, to be humiliated so publicly. But I prayed then. Prayed for the gentle hands of a man I hated. Prayed he’d forgive me for this. Prayed he’d get us out of this.

“You did.” A sick satisfaction wound through Moros’ tone. “But punishment must be rendered.”

“And it will be,” Adrastos snapped. A harsh hand closed around my jaw, drawing me up to look into livid brown eyes. Agony seared down my back, every inch of my body engulfed in white-hot anguish not even the layers of ice could soothe. Adrastos squeezed my jaw, and I knew it should hurt—knew it should, but it didn’t. A whimper escaped as he forced me upright. “Bartholomew, Smith.”

“It must be in proportion to the crimes,” Moros said flatly, but I didn’t miss the taunt in his words.

“For what you lack in creativity, I more than compensate,” Adrastos drawled, tone equal parts mockery and promise. A promise that sent a violent tremor through my cramping muscles. “There are three of us, brother. You do the math. I assure you, you taught me how to properly break a bitch that refuses to kneel.”

A ragged sob tore from my chest as he shifted his hold to my throat, hauling me to my feet until we were face-to-face.

“My disobedient pet will remember her place. Can’t promise she’ll be of use in your infirmary afterward.”