Chapter Six

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The trip was relatively uneventful. Micah was a boring traveling companion and did not say much. She couldn't really blame him. They were enemies. Cleona was very well aware of his hatred for her, thanks to the war. The war that was now over but had the opportunity to start anew if they did not stop Trystan.

They arrived at an inn late into the night, now halfway there to the university. After setting up their horses in the stables, they went inside to get their rooms.

"How much for one room?" Micah asked the innkeeper.

The innkeeper smiled at them. Mostly at Cleona. "Five copper pieces per room," he said. She gaped at him. Five pieces for just one room and one night? That's ridiculous.

"Does it include a meal," she questioned. The innkeeper nodded.

"Alright then," she said, handing him five copper coins. Micah searched his bag fervently.

"One moment," he muttered. The princess tapped her foot impatiently. "Um, it appears that I don't have my money with me. I have been robbed."

She glared at him. " It's fine," she told the innkeeper. "We only need one room." She then grabbed Micah's arm and pulled him toward their room. She opened the door, dragged him in, and slammed the door shut, infuriated. "Are you stupid," she whisper shouted? He growled at her. She continued. "Did you have anything important in your bag?"

He shook his head. "Of course not. I keep all of my important belongings in a different bag safely hidden." She gave him an increduouls look.

"And money's not important?" She waved her hands exasperatedly.

"Forget it," he snapped.

She shrugged and marched outside of the room to eat a quick dinner. Micah followed. When they were finished, they returned to their room. Cleona plopped down on the bed. "You're sleeping on the floor," she informed him.

He rolled his eyes. "I am most definitely not. I am a king, not some peasant." She hissed at his words. The princess hated people who thought they were better then others just because they had money and power.

Despite her words, she did not stop him when he layed down next to her.  She did take all of the comforter although it was itchy and uncomfortable.  It was cold in the room, and she wanted him to be miserable. He muttered to himself but let her have the comforter.

The bed was so small that if they both lied on their backs, their shoulders would touch, so she turned to one side, closed her eyes, knowing Micah was no threat to her, and fell into a restless sleep.

The whip came down hard on her back as she knelt before Matthias, her father's retired commander, despite his young age, and also her trainer, appointed by her father. Matthias had decided to switch from a hot iron rod to a whip. Wonderful. Cleona forced herself not to make a sound as it came down on her back again, this time harder, or Matthias wold double her punishment. Only three more hits, she told herself. Her back felt as if it was on fire, and she was seeing spots of black in her vision.

Almost there.

Almost there.

It came down again.

And again.

Again.

Finally, just as she was about to scream in pain, her beating came to an end. Matthias smirked at her as she stared at the ground. "Maybe next time you'll learn to show no mercy," he said, clapping his hands twice, a signal that the healers were allowed to heal her. He then turned and left her alone. As the healers approached her, Cleona cursed her father for letting Matthias train her. Since she was not the heir to the Lydonian throne, he apparently did not care about her well being. Curse you, Dorian, she thought. If her older brother wasn't the crown prince, maybe Father would care about her. Well, at least he had given her the healers. That was something, right?

The healers helped her up, all five of them, the best in Lydon. One grabbed a stool and gently pushed her down onto it. Another slowly lifted up Cleona's bloodied and torn up shirt to reveal a battered up back. At once, she heard the healers inhale in unison and saw them hover their hands before her back. The first time she had been healed by them three years ago, she was terrified. But then again, she was only nine. Now, the princess was older and braver, able to withstand the pain of the healer's magic without making a peep.

The familiar burning sensation filled her back until it felt like she was on fire. And not in a good way. Cleona gritted her teeth to hold back her cries as they worked, mending her broken skin until there was not even a scar left. Too bad the healers couldn't take away the pain from the wound. Sure, you couldn't see it. Doesn't mean she couldn't feel it.

When they were finished, they stepped back and left her before she could recover enough breath to thank them. Always before she could thank them. Sighing, she retired to her room. Cleona hated her life. She was depressed. The princess had an unloving father, a cruel teacher, and a brother who was, in her opinion, void of all emotion.

She was lying on her bed when she smelled the smoke. She sprang up and saw Dorian at her door holding a torch. He gazed at her, emotionless as always. "Father has told me to teach you a lesson. Matthias told him that you refused to kill the messenger that had been feeding information to the Arlentians."

"There was no proof of that," she spat, disgusted. He was probably innocent. Matthias was just trying to prove to Father that she was weak.

Dorian came up to her, and for the first time, she saw emotion in his eyes. It looked like... Sadness? Pity? Regret? But regret for what? And why was he holding that torch? She got her answer soon enough. He thrust the torch at his younger sister and let it touch her skin. Her body. She shrieked, unable to hold back. The fire was eating her flesh, killing her.

"Please," she begged Dorian. She was screaming now. "Please! I've already been punished. I won't do it again. I swear!" The scent of  burned flesh was filling the air, and she was dimly aware of the people gathered around to watch, looks of horror and sympathy upon their faces. But, no one would help. No one would dare cross her father, for he had a reputation for being harsh and brutal to whoever defied him.

Dorian squeezed his eyes shut. Cleona mentally cursed herself. The first time she had been beaten by Matthias, she had promised herself that she would never let a man have power over me, and yet here she was. Over the past few years, she had kept on breaking her promise over and over again, unable to escape her beatings. Her promise was nothing now. She was nothing.