The Knight's Prisoner by Renee Rose Read Free Book Online

willy-nilly through the forest.
    He handed her a skein of wine and a chunk of bread wrapped in a piece of cloth. The gesture was so unbelievably generous considering the situation, and her eyes filled with tears. “Thank you,” she choked as she took them from him.
    “Come, eat as you walk. We were supposed to be moving camp today, so everyone's waiting on us, and there's still your punishment to deal with before we get there.”
    Though she hadn't forgotten his warning of the first night for a moment, she felt like her legs had dropped off her body, and she tripped. He caught her arm and easily righted her. She stole a glance at his scarred face. It was blank, as usual.
    “I'm sorry,” she ventured.
    “I doubt that,” he said matter-of-factly. “But I imagine you will be.”
    The surge of fear that ran through her almost tripped her again. “Well I was sorry,” she said sullenly, for lack of anything better to say. “It was not my brightest move. I was completely lost and hungry when you found me.”
    “Aye,” he said knowingly, as if it was how he'd expected to find her. “You should've stayed close to the river,” he said.
    “Aye, I had just realized that, but finding my way back to the river was the problem.”
    “You actually walked in a half-circle. We're not overly far from it now.”
    She continued walking, feeling the strangeness of their perfectly civil, ordinary conversation, considering she was his prisoner and in imminent danger of the whipping of her life. They passed by a large felled tree, and Sir Ferrum caught her arm and stopped. He threw his cloak across the enormous log and pointed at it.
    “I'll punish you here. No sense in the whole camp hearing it.”
    She felt her limbs go weak and stood rooted to the spot. He came to take her arm, guiding her to the log and bending her over it where his cloak was laid. She spared a thought, wondering again at the kindness of the cloak, but then lost her concentration as she felt him dragging her skirts up so her bottom and legs were completely bare. Her belly was a mess—she suddenly wished she had not eaten the bread because she felt quite sick. The hammering of her heart was so loud she could almost hear it echoing against the log.
    Sir Ferrum walked to a tree and cut several switches. She plucked at his woolen cloak with her trembling fingers, waiting in her humbled position as he smoothed the bark off the switches and returned to her side. There was no lecture or preamble. She heard the whistle of the switch as it glided through the air and then felt the cutting sting on her backside. It created a dreadful burn. He brought it down over and over again in rapid succession, and she found herself trying to crawl over the top of the log to escape it.
    “Hold still, Danewyn,” he said in the mildest of tones.
    But she couldn't hold still. She squeezed her bottom and kicked her legs and clutched at his cloak, not believing how stingy a little branch could feel on her bare skin.
    “Please!” she gasped, though she knew it would do her no good. He continued until the branch broke, then picked up another. “Wait, please!” she cried out and was surprised when he did. She reached back with one hand and rubbed at her welted cheeks, the tears starting to flow. Her flesh had already swelled so the weals stood up in crisscrossed lines.
    He gave her another moment, then gently took her hand and gave it a squeeze as he lifted it behind her back, out of the way. He kept loose hold of her hand in his large one as he started to switch her again, and she screamed and squeezed his hand, realizing vaguely it must have been why he'd offered it. She was writhing in pain again after just a few strokes, but Sir Ferrum seemed to have no intention of stopping. He switched her over and over again, until she moved to the other side of panic, into a space where she lost track of all else but the sensation he was creating on her backside and the sense of nothingness. She