Cristobal shrugs. “Perhaps.”

He sets a dagger down on the altar, right beside Ana’s head as if to taunt her. He moves to the brazier by the altar. A set of iron pokers stand in a cage beside it, and he reaches for one. He holds it up to the light to examine it. Or rather, to let me examine it.

It is not a poker.

It is a brand. A crest. The very same one carved into my brother’s flesh.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” He caresses the end of the brand with such tenderness that I want to vomit. “It will leave the loveliest mark on that freckled skin of hers.”

“Don’t you dare!” I fight Sebastian with all my strength as Cristobal plunges the brand into the flames. When it emerges, the end of it is angry and red. My bare feet slip over the cold stone floor, slick now with blood, both mine and Sebastian’s. “Don’t you dare hurt her.”

“Oh, I won’t.” Cristobal offers the brand to Sebastian. “But he will.”

Sebastian swallows thickly as he reaches for the brand. It sits awkwardly in his hand, as if he’s never held one before. He probably hasn’t.

“Why?” I ask. I don’t know what else to say. This is too much. Too vile. Too evil.

“Sebastian still has something left to prove to me,” Cristobal says. “If he wants to reap the bountiful rewards I can offer, I need to know that he can be trusted.” Cristobal traces a finger down the Ana’s jawline. I may be hallucinating but I think I see her eyelashes flutter ever so slightly at the contact. “I need to know the boy has skin in the game.”

Cristobal beckons Sebastian forward.

Sebastian transfers his hold on me to the man with the musket and approaches the altar. I wonder if that is hesitation in his gait or if I only hope it is.

But regardless, Sebastian wraps both hands around the brand. Raises it toward Ana’s unprotected flesh.

Then, he stops.

“What are you waiting for?” Cristobal asks. “Are you a boy? Or a man? Do it.”

I know what he is waiting for. Sebastian has never dirtied his own hands. Has never sullied them with someone else’s blood. He has scuffled, like many a young man, but true violence? He is of the lot who pays other people to commit it for them.

Sebastian’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly. The brand quivers in his hands.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake—” Cristobal snatches the brand away from Sebastian, his lust for violence outweighing his patience.

On the altar, Ana groans as she begins to rouse. When she catches sight of the fire, and the brand, her eyes widen.