Chapter 46
The soldiers forced me down onto a chair of frigid metal, my skin recoiling from the icy touch. The restraints came next. Thick leather bit into my wrists and ankles, binding me to the chair's frame. I struggled, but it was futile. No amount of writhing could grant me even an inch of freedom. The soldiers finished their work in silence then departed.
Then, Captain Gonestone entered.
"Lady Florence, where have you been for the last decade?"
The question struck like a lash. My throat constricted, my breath catching on the lump of terror lodged within. I opened my mouth to answer, but no words came. My cracked, trembling lips parted in vain as I willed sound to form. Nothing.
From the table nearby, he reached for something, a glint of steel caught the torchlight. A knife. The blade rested lightly in his grip. He turned back to me, advancing without hurry, the inevitability of pain curling around me like a noose.
"I will ask again. Where have you been?"
My voice finally surfaced, though it was fragile. "I… I have been recovering in the Lorynthall south estate."
Gonestone's expression did not shift. "Describe the estate to me," he commanded.
Dread coiled tight around my throat. My mind raced, clawing for details that did not exist.
"Surely, if you have resided there for over a decade, you can describe at least the exterior? Speak carefully, Lady Florence. I sent men to survey the estate. If your words fail to align with their findings, there will be consequences."
I could not tell him. Cecilia and I had never seen the supposed southern estate of Lorynthall. We had been prisoners within the grand halls of the main estate. If Gonestone uncovered this, if word of it reached Anthony, Cecilia would be dead before I could even fathom a way to stop it. The contract binding her as a slave could be destroyed in an instant, and with it, her life.
"I…" My voice wavered, the sound of it weak and pitiful. "I do not go outside often… I am not confident in describing it."
"I will ask you again," his tone dropped. He placed the blade onto the chair's right armrest. Before I could react, his hand pressed mine flat against the cold surface.
"Tell me the truth," he demanded, moving the blade to my smallest finger, "or you will lose this. Is this not the hand you use to steady yourself with your cane? What shall become of you when you can no longer grasp it?"
Tears burned my eyes, distorting the torchlight into a hazy blur. My body trembled, my breath coming in ragged gasps as the cruel reality of what was about to happen settled upon me.
"I was recovering in the Lorynthall south estate," I repeated, my voice breaking. Hot tears spilled freely down my cheeks.
Gonestone did not hesitate. The blade pressed against the knuckle of my smallest finger, the dull edge biting into the skin with a pressure that sent a sharp, unbearable jolt through my hand. My stomach twisting violently as the first wave of agony tore through me. Then, with deliberate cruelty, he began to saw.
A white-hot blaze erupted from my hand and roared through my entire being. Sobs tore from my throat, my back arching against the restraints as my body convulsed in protest. My fingers twitched helplessly against the chair's armrest, as though pleading for mercy that would not come.
The jagged edge of the blade scraped against bone, the sickening sound of it slicing through flesh and tendon filling my ears. My mind teetered on the precipice of darkness, yet the pain was relentless, tethering me to this nightmarish reality. My raw screams echoed through the chamber. Thick and warm blood poured freely from the wound, pooling against my palm before dripping onto the stone floor below, a rhythmic patter that mocked the sound of my own ragged breaths.
With one final sickening pull of the blade, it was done.
My right pinky was gone. The severed digit landed with a soft, nauseating thud on the stone floor. My body gave out entirely, slumping forward as if the pain had wrung the last vestiges of strength from my bones. My head lolled to the side. I spasmed as shock threatened to consume me.
My mind swayed dangerously between awareness and the sweet release of unconsciousness. And yet, through the suffocating fog of agony, one thought clung to my fractured mind.
Cecilia must be protected.
Gonestone loomed over me. "Remember this agony, Lady Florence. Consider it a forewarning of what is yet to come. Now, answer me, where have you been these past ten years? Were you journeying alongside your band of slave traders? Is that the true reason for your absence from high society? How many such groups do you command within Ivoryspire, and where are they hidden?"
But I had nothing left to give. I was consumed by the abyss.