Underestimate Me

Rowen awoke from his restless slumber with a startle. He couldn’t be sure what woke him; whether it was the fingers about to touch his burning flesh or if it was whatever haunted his mind, keeping rest from the chaos. The familiar blue eyes averted themselves from his furrowed brow to his shoulder where the arrow went through. He wanted to cover the wound, to push her away from him, but he couldn’t. His hands were bound as were his feet. When had they bound his feet again?

“See how the skin around it is growing redder by the moment? Soon the festering will begin. I cannot stop this.” Rowan turned toward the sister with coppery hair and dark eyes. Laila betrayed him by bringing her to him. “I am afraid to look at his back, the last time I tried to push his tunic up he fought.” Her eyes watched him almost apologetically, but he would not accept it now.

“Why do you loiter over me?” His voice was hoarse with a hint of gruffness. Maybe he shouldn’t have spoken?

“Your wounds…” Laila started but he shook his head violently.

“Tis not you I mean.” Rowen found himself glaring at the woman who held him captive. The woman he once held dearer than any other woman who threw herself at him. She no longer wanted him though; she wanted that blonde whore who wished his head on a pike.

Josselyn did not speak as her fingers continued to hover over the gruesome wound before it. When Rowen changed a glimpse of it, he knew without a doubt infection set in. Balor, would you really let me die?

“Are you sure there’s nothing more you can do,” Josselyn said. Her attention focused solely on Laila. Rowen wanted to lash out at her silence. He wanted to scream his anguish, but instead he settled for questioning her.

“I saw you, last night, enter your tent with that bitch.” Her eyes turned into slits as her attention, her hatred, turned on him. “Do you spend your nights with all of your ‘sisters’ or is just that whore!” Rowen spat his words. Her hand flew back, but she did not strike him.

“Fix his arm,” she growled. “Before I decide to take it away from him too.” Her eyes focused on his for a long moment before she turned back to Laila. “Keep him tied to the pole this time when you check his back. I doubt he will fight much if it causes him pain.”

Rowen’s anger burned hotter than any fever he could possibly have. It warmed his skin, his bones, and set his soul ablaze. What had he been doing all this time? He fought her ignorance even though all she ever caused him was pain.

She sat in the apple orchard beneath the shade of one of the larger trees. She held a book on her lap and a dark red apple to her ripe lips. Rowen smiled to himself as a stream of apple juice made its way down the corner of her mouth to her round chin before she wiped it away on the sleeve of her faded dress. Rowen walked forward, not gaining her attention until a twig cracked under his weight. He was never good at sneaking; Josselyn’s smile lit up the world as she laughed at his bad attempt.

“What brings you this way, today?” She asked as she closed her book. Her lips curled around the apple’s edge as she waited for his answer. His breath caught in his throat as her eyes sent waves of desire over his body.

He grinned, letting his dimples take over his cheeks, before he answered, “You, of course. What else?”

Her smile faded as she reopened her book, finding her place with her pale fingers. “I told you, Rowen, save your pretty words for those whom they are meant for.”

His heart sank to his stomach as he whispered, “they are only meant for you.”

Never had she believe his feelings for her were true, so why should he be guided by them now. Josselyn wanted nothing more than a liar. Why she thought she was unworthy of his love passed him by without a clue, but that did nothing for the way his heart flew when she smiled.

Her footsteps echoed as she walked away from him, and though she tried to keep it from him, Rowen could see the physical effort she put into not scurrying away from him as she so often did. His eyes fell on Laila.

“I will not fight this time if you rebind my hands to be in front of me for a while.” The numbness in his right shoulder made him crave the pain of movement. Laila nodded in agreement as she helped him stand before she untied his wrists, and turned him so he was facing the pole. She rebound his hands around it cause his shoulder to pop and ooze something rancid.

Laila grasped the hem of his shirt and pulled it until it was over his head, resting on his forearms. She ran a gentle hand over the long pink scars over the middle of his back. With each touch, Rowen felt the shock of the whip. He could still hear his father’s words in his head.

“We shall begin!” Elrik’s voice boomed over the crowd from his seat on the balcony. He had the best seat in the house, a perfect view of Rowen’s face as the whip crashed against his skin slicing it open each time.

“Tell me, Son!” Elrik spat the last word. Disapproval radiated though the crowd. “Did you lore that whore into your bed?”

“She is not…” Rowen’s words were cut off by the first lash. He felt the blood trickling down his back, staining his skin.

“Or did the vixen talk you into breaking the laws.”

“I…” he was cut off again by the whip. This time it left three lashes in a row. The executioner managed to crisscross an ‘x’ across the middle of his back.

“Speak, Son!” Elrik’s eyes were hungry to more blood. Rowen’s winces weren’t enough. He wanted his eldest son’s screams.

“I will not,” Rowen growled. He dug his fingernails deep into his palms as the bullwhip hit his lower back, just above his hip. It hit again just below his right shoulder, opposite his heart. He would not let Elrik win. He would not scream.

With a nod of his head, Elrik ordered the whip down on him. Rowen nearly lost count as the twentieth blow brought an end to the whip’s wrath for a moment. His father wanted the attention back.

“Did she moan as you wished her to, Rowen? Did her gasps quench your thirst for her?” Elrik’s smirk was cruel.

“Are you jealous father? No one wants you?” Rowen’s face mirrored his father’s as the crowd gasped. The whip fell upon him again and again.

Laila ran her finger over the ‘x’ in the center of his back before they found the line leading to the wound on the back of his shoulder. “It’s starting again,” he whispered before Laila dipped a clean cloth in boiled water and dug it into his shoulder. Rowen dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands before the familiar wincing smirk spread across his features.