214 Torture in the night

"St—owy?" Marshall asked, his jaw aching and blood trickling from one side of his mouth as he struggled to close it. 

"Well, yes. The stories you have been spinning since the gatherings began. Does that ring a bell, or do you need a little jolt to awaken that brain of yours?" Raylen inquired politely, cracking his knuckles, and Marshall's eyes widened in fear. 

Marshall vigorously shook his head, not wanting to receive any more injuries, and swallowed the blood pooling in his mouth. He truly believed that Emily was a nobody and held no significance to the king. His lips moved, but no words spilled from his mouth. 

"What I don't get is, where did you find the courage to keep mocking her?" Raylen asked, his tone filled with apparent astonishment, and he leaned forward. "They say, once a mistake, twice a fool, and you know what comes the third time?" he whispered, as if they were being overheard, even though they were the only ones in the room. "Dead."