Part 19:

They traveled for another two days, the others cramped into the small cages, unable to stretch or rise. Knowing they had to be certainly miserable, Mira bore her own suffering in silence.

The constant drag of the chains, though they were not heavy, made her shoulder and her arms ache. The shackles rubbed the bare skin raw until every step she took burned them and screamed through her body.

But she walked on without complaint. Her mage training helped her to fight off the worst of it, though it was her mind that was the hardest to stop…

First she would be in the tent with Alistair. Sitting beside him in ignorance of what was to come. His hand would be on her head, warm and comforting. The memory of his skin as she touched his heart to tell him that it was he who mattered, not "the Wardens." would haunt her…

Then inevitably her mind would turn to the sound of the whip hitting his back. How he must hate her now! His fate sat in her hands, and she had gotten him viciously whipped by not being fast enough, not willing enough, not courageous enough.

She fought dawning despair, not understanding why he hated her so before that. So she was a Mac Tir, so what?

It mattered to no one but him. Only him. And the Queen, she supposed. Both of them wanted to kill her for it, when it was the least important part of her life.

Now he had even more reason to want to kill her, though. Now he was being whipped when she didn't act fast enough. The others would soon join him, as the Chevalier had no scruples at all in whom he tortured.

Soon they would all hate her.

Defeat welled up in her, and she had to remind herself that self-pity was the bane of a sane mind. She had to fight and be strong and save them, even if they hated her. It was her fault they were in this mess, and so she would be strong and get them out of it.

The Chevalier broke into her thoughts a few hours later. "You will come to love me, you know. You'll forget about him, and wonder why you ever even thought of such a weak, pathetic man in such a way."

"I will never love you," she spat at him. "You're a monster!"

He snarled at her and grabbed her. Dragging her over to the wagon, he shoved her at two guards, who grabbed her arms. She stood serenely between them as Wynne was dragged from the cage, unable to stand from cramped muscles.

She was shackled to the wagon, her robe cut from her back. Entering a near-trance state, Mira didn't even flinch as the first lash landed.

"You will love me," he told her. "Do not continue to defy me."

Mira did her best imitation of a fake crying. He stopped and looked at her, then set the whip down again. Mira ducked her head and looked at the whip marks out the corner of her eyes, trying to look eager as she pretended to weep.

She pretended to catch him looking and looked down at the ground, sobbing more loudly.

Montreux walked over to her and jerked her head up by the hair. Disgusted, he let go, pushing it away from him as he did so.

"No tears," he said. "I'll have to keep in mind what a horrible actress you are when you're tired." He gestured at the men who had pulled Wynne out to put her back.

He walked back over to her and hit her full in the face. She gasped and jerked, then let the tears for Wynne come.

"I don't know what to think," he told her. But it's clear you don't care about her. Don't tell me, she boss you around one too many times?"

She looked away and he laughed. "You're not so meek, after all, are you. Well, you will be, Mira. You will be."