A Court of Love and Healing {ACOTAR}

Painful Pasts and Vulnerable Vanity

{ Thwack! Another lash. Then another. Then another. The King of Hybern chuckles his merciless laugh as his guard whips her, delighting in her screams. She writhes on the ground in nothing but the scraps of what used to be a clean white linen dress. Lifting her head ever so slightly, she peeks through the strands of her dark hair and sees green eyes peering out from the shadows.

The mysterious man—male. Male. A faerie. Pointed ears and unnaturally bright eyes. But eyes that she can lock onto to ground herself.

Another scream rips from her, and she bites down harshly, her lip beginning to bleed as well as she braces for another—this time her scream is more muffled, but her body begins to tremble with shock. Despite it, she doesn't look away from those eyes. Soft, empathetic, nearly pained themselves. Then they take form as the blond male steps into the room, seeming nonchalant.

"My King", he murmurs, bowing at the waist, embellished enough to be a mockery, but not enough for the King to see it as an insult.

White hot pain shoots through her and she lets out a whimper despite herself. The guard kicks her hard in the ribs and she lets out a wail.

"Hey!", the male shouts, then remembers himself, whatever game he was supposed to be playing.

"Do you have a problem, High Lord?", the King spits.

A High Lord. One of the rulers of Prythian. This male is a High Lord...

"I just think it's below us to be playing with...insignificant things such as humans. Well, former humans, but same difference. Don't you think? This is getting repetitive and boring. The others are dead. Do you really want to have to handle another corpse? That's grunt work", he scoffs and waves a hand dismissively to the guards. "Just cage her. Let her be something pretty to look at. Gives her a much better use", he smirks.

Briar gasps for breath and tears run down her face. She can taste the blood on her tongue and the throbbing of the bruises on her ribs. However, it is nothing as bad as the agony from her back. She defiantly raises her chin as much as she can to look into those eyes once again. He meets her gaze immediately.

Just as she thought. They do not match his words. Though, through what sounds like cruelty, he is giving her a reprieve. A chance for them to leave her alone, to possibly heal. If she were anyone else, maybe she would have missed the signs. Luckily, she has always been a lover of detail. Those eyes are not cold and calculating. They are sad and guilty.

The King considers his words carefully before snapping at the guard. "Chain her to the wall. Make her a pretty statue", he smirks viciously. "I'd quite like the view, the High Lord is right."

The guard grabs her harshly by her arms and she wails in anguish as the ripped-open skin tugs with every movement. She sees the male turn away, almost too affected to look at her anymore as she once again feels the burning against her as she's shoved up against the wall, her shackles connected to tight chains, holding her wrists and ankles out so she can barely move.

One of the guards snickers and grabs the whip once more, bringing it down hard three more times—across her stomach, her thighs, then the top of her breasts as she cries out, sobbing as they finally walk away. }

Tamlin wakes with a start, a pain shooting through him as screams ring out from down the hall. Waving a hand for the faelights to go on, he uses his faerie speed to reach Briar's room, throwing the door open and moving over to her.

He beholds her writhing form beneath the sheets, blood beginning to soak through them, strands of her long hair sticking to the blood. He rips the blankets off of her and his eyes tear up as he sees the fresh lash lines on her back, blood soaking through her pale blue nightgown. Her body is surrounded by a faint golden glow.