The Favorite Read Free Page B

shackles were removed, and my wrists were bound with leather straps.
    â€œThis is a crime punishable by death!” someone called. “But in his mercy, Prince Maxon is going to spare these two traitors their lives. Long live Prince Maxon!”
    The straps on my wrists made everything very real. Fear surged through me, and I started crying. I looked at my smooth hands, wanting to remember them as they werenow, wishing I could use them to wipe away my tears. Then I turned to Carter.
    Even though the thing he was strapped to was in the way, he craned his neck so he could see me. I focused on him. I wasn’t alone. We had each other. The pain would last temporarily, but on the other side of it I had Carter forever. My love, forever.
    Even though I could feel myself shaking with fear, I was also strangely proud. It wasn’t as if I would ever brag about being caned for falling in love, but I realized there were some people who would never know how special it was to have someone. I did. I had a soul mate. And I would do anything for him.
    â€œI love you, Marlee. We’re going to be okay,” Carter vowed over the din of the crowd. “It’ll be okay, I promise.”
    My throat was dry. I couldn’t answer him. I nodded, so he would know I had heard, but I was disappointed in myself for not being able to tell him that I loved him, too.
    â€œMarlee Tames and Carter Woodwork!” I turned at the sound of our names. “You are both hereby stripped of your castes. You are the lowest of the low. You are Eights!”
    The people cheered, enjoying our humiliation.
    â€œAnd to inflict upon you the shame and pain you have brought upon His Majesty, you will be publicly caned fifteen strikes. May your scars remind you of your many sins!”
    He stepped aside, raising his arms to the audience for one last cheer. I watched as the masked men who had boundCarter and me reached into a tall bucket and pulled out long, soaking rods. The time for speeches had ended, and the show was about to start.
    Of all the things I could have thought of, at that very moment I remembered an English lesson on idioms from years ago. We had discussed the phrase “rule of thumb,” and I remembered our tutor mentioning that the term might have originated with a husband being allowed to beat his wife, but only with a stick no bigger around than his thumb.
    The rod we were faced with wouldn’t pass that test.
    As they whipped the canes around, warming up, I averted my eyes. Carter took a few deep breaths, then swallowed once and brought his focus back to me. Again my heart swelled with love. The caning would be much worse for him—he might not even be able to walk after it was over—but he was worried about me.
    â€œOne!”
    I wasn’t at all braced for the hit, and I cried out from the sting. It actually ebbed for a moment, and I thought this might not be so awful. Then, without warning, my skin began burning. The burning grew and grew until—
    â€œTwo!”
    They timed the strikes perfectly. Just as the pain hit its peak, a new wave added to it. I called out pathetically, watching my hands shake from the agony.
    â€œWe’ll be okay!” Carter insisted, bearing his own torture while trying to ease mine.
    â€œThree!”
    After that hit I made the mistake of balling up my hands, thinking it would somehow ease the pain. Instead, the pressure made it a dozen times worse, and I let out some strange, guttural sound.
    â€œFour!”
    Was that blood?
    â€œFive!”
    It was definitely blood.
    â€œIt’ll be over soon,” Carter promised. He sounded so weak. I wished he’d save his strength.
    â€œSix!”
    I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t make it anymore. There was no way to tolerate more pain than this. Any more pain would certainly mean death.
    â€œLove . . . you.”
    I waited for the next strike to come, but there seemed to be a hiccup in the