They hadn't chained her to an altar this time, but to a metal table, set within the center of the large tent. He'd had them bring in the comforts of home – or whatever Cairn might consider home.
Fenrys lay, head on his paws, grief dulling his coat and dimming his eyes, beside a tall chest of drawers. She doubted it contained clothes.
On another table, a cloth covered three humped objects, and a patch of black velvet had been laid out. For the instruments he'd use on her. The way a merchant might display his finest jewels.
A chair sat facing the large brazier nearly overflowing with crackling logs. Smoke curling up, up –
A small hole had been cut into the tent ceiling. And through it…
Aelin couldn't fight her trembling at the night sky, at the two pinpricks of light shining there. Stars.
The sky was not fully black, but the faded gray of dawn. Perhaps she would last long enough to see sunlight.
Fenrys's head shot up, ears twitching.
Aelin took steadying breaths as Cairn shoved through the tent flaps, grinning.
"Enjoy your rest?"
Aelin said nothing.
Cairn ran a hand down the table's edge. "I've been debating what to do, you know. How to really savour this, make it special for both of us before our time together is through."
Fenrys's snarl rumbled through the tent. Cairn just swept the cloth from the smaller table.
Three low metal dishes on three legs, piled with unlit logs.
Aelin stiffened as he pulled them over. Three braziers, low enough for someone to slide them under the table on which she lay. As Cairn was doing now.
"We've played with your hands before," Cairn said, straightening. Aelin began shaking, tugging on the chains anchoring her arms above her head. His smile grew.
"Lets see how you react to flames without your special little gift. Perhaps you'll burn like the rest of us"
Aelin yanked uselessly, feet sliding against the still-cool metal.
Not like this-
Cairn reached into his pocket and slowly withdrew some flint, savouring her terror.
This wasn't just a breaking of her body, but of her, of the power she'd come to love. To destroy the part of her that sang.
He'd melt her skin and bones until she feared the flame, hated it as she hated the healers that hid dream from reality.
Fenrys's snarl rolled on, endless.
Cairn said mildly, "You can scream all you like, if it pleases you." And with that, he lit the flames.
As the table beneath her slowly heated, Cairn pulled the large brazier closer, turning it until she could see the red-hot tools glowing in the fire.
"For when heating the table grows boring," he said, patting the hilt of a blade with his gloved hand. "I want to see how far the burns go inside your skin." Bile rose in her throat and she had to force down the word.
Please
He would listen to anything she told him and then continue regardless.
Please
Anyone who could conjure up this idea had no concept of mercy.
Please
No. She was Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, and she would not be afraid. She would not beg. She swallowed the word.
You do not yield.