The lashes I took burn as if fresh. They’re healing well, but my movements are slower, and if I stretch too far, I reopen some of the lacerations. I consider what I did. How I stood in her place to save her from having to submit to such a cruel punishment. And I think about her running away, sneaking into the back of Paolo’s truck because that’s the only way she’d have gotten out. All while I was in that dungeon-like space.

When I imagine her soaking in the tub, relaxing, my hands clench into fists.

I force a deep breath in. I know she ran because she was scared of what The Tribunal would do. What her punishment would be. She may not know the intricacies of the laws, but she does know their ways. I just have to remember that, I tell myself as I walk out of the bathroom and go to the last door at the end of the hall, which is closed. I just have to remember she didn’t know what the Vicarius clause was. She has no idea what I endured, or she’d never have run. She’d have been there when I got home. She’d have been waiting for me in my bed.

But all those words go out the window when I open the door and see her in the little bit of light that comes in from the streetlamp through the lace curtains. All those generous thoughts dissipate as I take in her peaceful, sleeping form, long, damp hair fanned out over the pillow, her arm on top of the floral print blanket drawn over her. Her back is to me, and I step closer to the bed to listen to her quiet, soft breathing.

She’s sleeping deeply. Soundly. When I haven’t slept for days. She’s well-rested and freshly bathed, while I have endured cold showers so as not to feel the burn of the lashes that line my back. That will leave scars to last my lifetime.

I close the door and settle into the wingback chair to watch her sleep her last peaceful sleep.

5

Judge

It’s the middle of the morning when Mercedes finally stirs. I haven’t closed my eyes for more than a few minutes.

She rolls onto her back, arching, stretching, feline-like, her arms over her head with a soft, luxurious moan. The birds chirping outside can be heard through the window, which is open a crack. She yawns, covering her mouth, blinking her eyes open momentarily before rolling back onto her side with a sigh.

For a moment, I think she’s going to go back to sleep. I wouldn’t be surprised. The thought irritates me. But then she bolts upright, sucking in a panicked breath, her eyes huge as they center on me. She clutches the blanket to her chest, and I smile.

“Morning, princess.”