![]() The skin there isn’t red, but it’s naked. I shift on the cot until I’m sat on my knees. My tank-top is gone, and bared is my back with angry red skin. Gingerly, I twist around at a strangled angle to look at my back. The sound of the whip lashing against my skin, flesh tearing apart, the cruel laugher of the fae. It takes a few moments before it all rushes back to me. ![]() Beside the cot, there’s a side-table littered with bloody bandages and stained rags. ![]() I’m in a cosy tent whose walls are discoloured white. Then another, until my whole hand flexes and I can push up my head enough to look around. Each time I blink, the cot tugs at my eyelashes. I wake up face-down on a cot that’s rough against my skin. The air is thick with the sickly scent of that black powder. ![]() ![]() Names, characters, incidents, and places are all products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, whether alive or dead, is purely coincidental. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission-this includes scanning and/or unauthorised distribution-except in case of brief quotations used in reviews and/or academic articles, in which case quotations are permitted. ![]()
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