Warning: This Chapter Contains Mentions of Voilence.
Alaric leaned closer.
"I will not kill you quickly. No. You will wish for death long before I grant it. You tried to take what's mine. And for that, I'll carve the lesson into your skin."
He released her suddenly, and she collapsed forward, coughing.
He gestured to one of his knights, who stepped forward with a small chest of instruments; blades, hooks, heated irons.
Tools no battlefield ever carried, but ones Alaric had not hesitated to prepare for this moment.
The Empress's bravado cracked for the first time. She tried to scoot back, but the chains bit into her wrists.
"You wouldn't dare," she hissed, though her voice quivered. "I am still the Empress. The court..."
