Quickly, one of the guards procures a whip and places it into Caleb’s outstretched hand.
“M-my King,” Veronica says quickly, terror making her voice wobble. “I’m confused. If you intend to honor me by whipping this slave, then why remove me as your favorite…?”
Caleb narrows his eyes at Veronica. His grip tightens on the whip.
Veronica continues to look up at him from where she’s bowing. Does she not see that she is the one in danger here? Has she been favored for so long that she cannot contemplate being treated as harshly as how she treats others?
Even as Caleb raises the whip, she looks on.
In a flash, he brings the whip down, cutting through her robes and into the skin of her back. Blood spills out, soaking through the tattered fabric.
She screams, curling into herself. “My King,
