Capture the Crown (Gargoyle Queen #1) -Jennifer Estep Page 0,138

I swallowed the groan rising in my throat.

“Insult Morta or her coffers again, and I will saw out your tongue with a butter knife,” Milo said.

“So what’s it to be?” I asked, determined not to let him see my dread. “What sort of torture do you have planned?”

He grinned. “Mother did say that I could have some fun with you.”

“How kind of her,” I replied in a dry tone, looking over at Maeven.

The queen stared back at me. Her cold amethyst eyes were devoid of emotion, but a small smile played at the corners of her lips, and I felt a wave of smugness ripple off her, despite the coldiron shackles stifling my magic. She might have captured me, but I got the sense that her long game—whatever it was—was still playing out.

“Just a mild bit of torture,” Maeven said. “Don’t damage her too badly. She’s no use to me dead.”

Milo sneered at his mother the same way he had at me. “You wouldn’t have said that sixteen years ago. You would have fried this Andvarian bitch to a crisp with your lightning in the throne room for everyone to see.”

Maeven shrugged. “Older and wiser and all that.” Her face hardened, and magic crackled in her eyes. “Do not disobey me in this, or there will be consequences—ones that you won’t enjoy any more than Gemma is going to enjoy what you do to her. Do you understand me?”

Milo gave his mother a wary look. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” Maeven’s voice was pure ice.

A muscle ticced in Milo’s jaw, but he tilted his head to her ever so slightly. “Yes, my queen.”

His words slithered out as a low, angry hiss, but Maeven didn’t seem to mind her son’s obvious lack of sincerity and fealty. She eyed him a few seconds longer, then motioned at the three guards. To my surprise, they took up positions along the wall. Apparently, the queen didn’t trust her son not to kill me. How considerate of her.

Maeven left the workshop. Delmira scurried after her, still not meeting my harsh, accusing gaze. The doors closed behind them, leaving me in the workshop with Milo, Wexel, and the queen’s three guards.

Milo ignored the captain and the guards and circled around me. He did that several times before stopping behind me. A cold finger of unease slid down my spine. Something rustled, and a faint, ominous creak sounded. What was that—

Agony exploded in my back.

The pain was so sudden, so intense, so blindingly shocking and searingly white-hot that I couldn’t even scream. All the air dribbled out of my lungs, and I scrambled to get it back. I managed to suck down a surprised breath—

The pain came again.

And then again. And again.

Dully, in the back of my mind, I realized what was happening.

Milo was whipping me.

The crown prince stood behind me, out of my line of sight, and every soft creak and then resounding snap made me flinch. Sometimes, he cracked the whip against the flagstones, or an empty table standing nearby, or my back. There was no hurry in his attacks and no pattern to them either, but the worst part was not being able to see them coming, not being able to brace myself for the whip slamming against my skin and peeling away another strip of my flesh.

Desperate, I reached for my magic, trying to do something, anything, to stop it, but the coldiron shackles dampened my power. All I could do was stand there and take the blows, each one so hard and vicious it stole my breath, leaving me unable to scream out any of my pain.

Finally, the whipping stopped.

Red-hot ribbons of fire seared my back from top to bottom, as though coral vipers were writhing through my skin, biting and poisoning me over and over again. Blood also trickled down my back, adding to my misery. The steady stream of it matched the tears cascading down my cheeks. My breath puffed in and out in choked, ragged gasps, and I struggled not to whimper.

Milo stepped in front of me, holding a long whip. The handle was made of ordinary black leather, but the whip itself was a shockingly bright orange-red. Just looking at the vivid color made the ribbons of fire in my back burn a little hotter.

“Do you like it?” he purred. “I stole this from Uncle Maximus’s workshop years ago. I used to sneak in there as a child and watch him play with the people who displeased him. Sometimes, if I