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“You know better, Nova,” Gideon sighed, conjuring a skeletal chain between the girl’s ankles. Harrow Nova glared angrily as two constructs lifted her by the arms and marched her forward.
“Do I, Reverend Daughter?” Nova snapped, dragging her heels stubbornly. “He’s up to something. I just know it.”
“The only person ‘up to something’ here is you,” Gideon scolded. She waved her hand toward her personal cell, and Nova’s stomach twisted. So this would be a more formal punishment. She pursed her lips, unwilling to give the Daughter the satisfaction of seeing her sweat.
“I think you need some time to reflect before we discuss your latest antics,” Gideon said carefully. “Go to your closet. It’s better for both of us if you go willingly. I’d rather you stand in reflection without a smarting ass, but we can go either way if you decide to be a stubborn idiot tonight.”
“Eat me,” Nova spat, stomping over to the closet. She thrust her arms forward, waiting for Gideon to cuff her to the wall. She hated the closet. She hated the cuffs that kept her standing with no leniency. Shifting her weight put pressure on her wrists, and trying to squirm away was impossible in such a small space.
“Think about what you’re going to say to me when I release you,” Gideon said gently, patting Harrow’s hand as she closed the door. Nova growled, letting her head hang in the dark, cramped space.
She hated it. She hated the silence, the darkness. The discomfort of standing still. Harrow was a woman of movement; lunges and thrusts of her sword, agility and dexterity as she climbed and leapt and stretched. Standing still with nothing but her thoughts to distract her was akin to torture in her eyes. And the Daughter knew it.
She tried to think about anything, everything, except for the situation that put her in this mess. Unfortunately, her mind drifted back to it too frequently to resist. She didn’t hate Ortus. But she grew more suspicious of him by the day. True, her attempts on his life were mostly founded on the belief that she deserved his position as Cavalier Primary, but this time was different. That nosy little worm had been snooping . She just knew it.
She hadn’t been looking for him when she entered the library. She’d actually been looking for Crux. But when she saw Ortus digging through the Daughter’s study desk, she immediately suspected that he was up to no good. Her thoughts were only confirmed as he withdrew a piece of flimsy with a smug look on his face.
She gave him a warning this time.
Well, sort of.
She’d yelled his name before pouncing him, at the very least. As her chain wrapped around his neck, she could see the fear in his eyes. The flimsy fell out of his hand as he gripped the chain. She hadn’t seen where it ended up. She was too focused on squeezing the life out of the hulking abomination of a cavalier when the Daughter arrived to ruin everything again.
In hindsight, she probably shouldn’t have aimed her chain at the Daughter. It was pure reflexive instinct. Surely the Daughter wouldn’t fault her for that?
Except, she would.
Nova groaned miserably, feeling the pressure of her weight on the balls of her feet. She had a feeling she wouldn’t avoid punishment tonight. If she’d been sent to her own cell, she could have probably talked her way into a day with no food before being released. Being sent to the Daughter’s cell, though…
Well, Nova was intimately familiar with the kind of punishments the Daughter could dish out here.
The closet was just the start. A miserable, degrading start. The darkness felt suffocating and her hips ached. She wanted to scream and throw a fit, but she knew it wouldn’t help. Her mind drifted back to the terrified face of Ortus Nigenad, his scarified face pulsing beneath her grip. Before he heard the Daughter’s voice, he almost seemed resigned to his fate. Something about that bothered Harrow, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a burst of bright light. Nova squeezed her eyes shut, jerking away from the painful glare. Her wrists throbbed angrily at the sudden movement, sending a jolt of pain up and down her nerves. She gave herself a moment to adjust before she opened her eyes to slivers, staring up at the Reverend Daughter defiantly.
“I see you’ve spent your reflection time wisely,” Gideon said sarcastically. “You know, if you just took the time to think about your actions and try to feel some remorse, I wouldn’t have to punish you so often.”
“Too bad,” Nova snorted. “You get what you get with me.”
“It’s not my ass about to be on fire,” Gideon shrugged. She flicked the cuffs, releasing Nova’s wrists from their binds. “Over the chair. Let’s see if you’ll be more willing to talk afterward.”
Harrow growled deep in her throat, but she made her way to the center of the room where Gideon had dragged her desk chair. Nova stood on the back rung of the chair, bending over the tall back to grip the seat of the chair. She felt the Daughter shuffle behind her, and her guts twisted in anticipation.
The first three swats with the belt left her breathing hard. The next three drew a few small grunts of pain from her throat. Six more, and the heat began to spread. She shifted her hips, squirming a little as the Daughter whipped her soundly over her trousers. Twenty-five licks later, Gideon paused.
“Ready to talk yet?”
“Eat shit,” Nova spat through gritted teeth.
“Suit yourself,” Gideon said, reaching around to unlatch the strings on Harrow’s trousers. She pulled the fabric down the girl’s legs, leaving her in thin, worn, patchwork underwear. Harrow seethed in humiliation as Gideon’s finger traced over one of her crudely-sewn seams. “You need new panties. These are ancient.”
“Quit staring,” Nova snapped, her face flushing. “It’s not like I have a clothing allowance.”
“I’ll fix that,” Gideon said gently. “You could have asked, you know.”
“I’d eat my own shit before asking you for underwear,” Harrow growled. “Just get it over with. I assume you’re planning to beat me harder.”
“Spank you,” Gideon corrected. “And I mean it, Harrow. If you need anything, all you have to do is ask. I’ll have some made for you.”
“Just quit talking and spank me, then. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner I can go back to practice.”
“I’ve already given Aiglamene your apologies for missing practice today,” Gideon said, shaking her head. She repositioned the belt, tapping Harrow gently to take aim. “I intend to discuss this situation with you, one way or another.”
Nova hissed through her teeth as the belt landed on her upper thighs. She wouldn’t give Gideon the satisfaction of watching her cry. She steeled herself, holding her breath through the next four blows. The pain was sharp and hot, and Harrow let herself swear a blue streak by the twentieth lick.
“Ready to talk yet?” Gideon asked, brushing her hand down Harrow’s thighs. The touch was light, but it still sent goosebumps prickling up and down Nova’s arms and legs.
“He was up to something,” Nova said bluntly. “Don’t ask me how I know. I just know.”
“Harrow, you can’t just attack every person you find suspicious,” Gideon scolded. “If you think Ortus was doing something unsavory, come talk to me. Talk to Crux. Talk to Aiglamene. Don’t take matters into your own hands.”
“I should be the Cavalier Primary,” Harrow snorted. “Not that soft sack of a man. You and I both know it, Reverend Daughter. Why can’t we reach a compromise?”
“We’ve had this talk over and over, Nova,” Gideon said patiently. “Unless something happens to Ortus, our hands are tied. You have to give it up. Cavalier Secondary is a wonderful position to have. You should be proud-”
“Fuck you,” Nova spat. “Beat me again. I dare you.”
“Harrow…” Gideon sighed. “I’m not going to repeat myself. Do I need to spank you with the paddle? I will if you don’t calm down.”
Harrow froze, nostrils flaring in anger. The belt was one thing; but that wicked, horrible creation was another thing entirely. The paddle was made from smooth, thick bone, and it burned for hours. Gideon knew how much she hated it.
“Sorry,” she said stiffly, shifting her weight. “May I stand?”
“Stand, but don’t rub,” Gideon said, putting the belt back on the desk. “Sit on the chair. Lift your feet.”
Harrow groaned miserably, but she did as she was told. Pulling her feet off the floor put all of her weight on her well-welted ass, reigniting the sting into a deep, burning throb that pulsed with each heartbeat. It was humiliating to sit beneath the Daughter’s gaze with her hands on her head like a naughty child. She couldn’t help but fidget and squirm, biting her lip as Gideon’s eyes flicked across her body with interest.
“Good girl. Thank you,” Gideon said genuinely. “Tell me what you think you saw Ortus doing in the library.”
“He was digging in your desk,” Nova said, keeping her voice level. “He pulled out a piece of flimsy. He had a strange look on his face. He was up to something. I couldn’t let him steal from you.”
“While I appreciate your concern,” Gideon said slowly, “-you should have come to me to handle the situation. I could have confronted Ortus as his superior, and you could have spent the evening without a striped ass. You need to think before you act, Nova. Do you really think you could become Cavalier Primary with such impulsive actions? You’re worth more than a sword, you idiot. A Cavalier Primary must use strength and intelligence to support their Adept. And frankly, between you and me?”
The Daughter smiled, reaching out to brush Harrow’s hair away from her face.
“-I think, if you can control your impulsivity, that you’ve got the better brains between the two of us. I’m just here for my good looks and witty remarks.”
“As if,” Nova rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help the tiny smirk on her face. “What will you do about Ortus?”
“I’ll look in the library first, and then I’ll talk to him. Ortus might have a valid reason to be in my desk. And if he doesn’t, I’ll punish him for his behavior. You need to leave these situations up to me, Harrow Nova. Do you understand me?”
“Fine,” Harrow exhaled. “Can I go?”
“Go to dinner,” Gideon said, arching her eyebrow. “I expect you in your cell after you eat. No training tonight. Are we clear?”
“Yes,” Harrow glared, but she wisely kept her mouth shut. She stood and pulled up her trousers, giving her ass a hearty rub for good measure.
She hoped Ortus ended up equally punished tonight, but she had a feeling he would escape her fate. After all, she’d never once seen the older man howling under the Daughter’s discipline. Whereas everyone had seen Nova whipped several times throughout her life.
She burned with the unfairness of it all.
After a meal of snow leeks with black sauce over rice and a thin, watery broth, Nova made her way back down the corridors to her cell at the lower level. She was still sulking over being sent to her room without sword practice. Aiglamene would give her hell over it tomorrow, she was sure.
She paused only briefly at the training room door, sneaking her sword from its rack.
If she couldn’t practice on the training floor, she could at least practice in her cell.
Harrow Nova, failed daughter of the Ninth, a chimera made from two hundred corpses born solely to punish man’s folly, stood at the door to her cell with a scowl on her face.
Upon her cot, an intruder sat demurely. It was not sentient, that she could tell, and looked to be made of fuzzy white mold - the kind that formed in the bottom of the kitchen bins that she’d been forced to scrub as punishment for attempting to assassinate Ortus for the seventeenth time. Or was it the eighteenth?
Nova squinted, untrusting. It had to be a trap. Had Ortus left it as a warning for her earlier attempt on his life? Was this part of his suspicious plot?
She approached with caution, reaching out to poke the thing with the tip of her sword. To her amusement, it fell over dead - with its beady black eyes still wide open. She prodded the thing again, then tentatively reached out one hand to brush against its flesh.
It wasn’t flesh. It did not breathe. No, it was a creature made from nothing - a construct formed from cotton and cloth, two floppy ears and four legs sewn to its fat, plush body. A nubby tail hung from its ass like an afterthought.
It was soft. She’d never felt anything so soft in her life.
“Do you like it?”
Nova jumped back, sword at the ready, until her brain processed the Reverend Daughter’s voice from just outside her cell.
“I don’t understand,” Harrow said slowly, lowering her gaze. "What is it?"
Gideon took a step to the threshold, hesitating before crossing into Harrow’s cell uninvited.
“It’s a comfort object,” Gideon explained, sheepishly rubbing the back of her head. “This one was called a 'sheep' or a 'lamb.' They were common in the Before times. I’ve found some references to them in the holy texts.”
“Why?” Nova said, touching the soft, puffy fur once more.
“Well, they say it was used as a sacrificial offering,” Gideon admitted. “But it was also a symbol of innocence, fertility-“
“I mean, why is it on my cot?” Nova clarified, lifting the thing by its floppy ear. It weighed nearly nothing in her grip.
“Oh,” Gideon paused. “I thought you might like it.”
“What’s the purpose?” Harrow asked, inspecting its belly and snout. It was stuffed with something soft, like the inside of the antique chairs in the Reverend Parents’ parlor. She had the strongest urge to throttle it.
“It’s a gift,” Gideon shrugged. “You can do whatever you want with it. Hold it, if you’d like. It’s soft. Some people sleep with objects like that. Others seek comfort in them. You can give it a hug.”
“What the fuck is a hug?” Harrow deadpanned, and Gideon rolled her eyes.
“You don’t have to act so tough around me, Nova. I wouldn’t have given it to you if I didn’t think you’d like it. Throw it out if you must.”
Harrow frowned down at the creature, giving it a tentative squeeze.
“I don’t know what this means,” she said, looking into the lamb’s coal-black eyes. “I’m being punished. I don’t deserve a gift.”
Gideon paused, giving the confused girl a sad little smile.
“It might be nice to have a friend when you need one the most, Nova,” Gideon said, and she disappeared down the hallway without another word.
Harrow sat down on her cot, putting the creature aside. Her ass still smarted fiercely, and she wanted nothing more than to curl up under her blanket and fantasize about life outside the dreary halls of the Ninth.
She drifted into an uneasy sleep, plagued with visions of conspiracy plots and madmen wearing her father’s face.
After a particularly worrisome dream, Nova sat upright with a wince. She shifted her weight away from her bruised thighs, her sleep-addled mind slowly catching up to reality.
She looked down and realized that the creature - the lamb, as Gideon called it - made its way into her arms. She gave him a little squeeze, smiling softly into his fur.
“Lambael Woolvenary, first of your name,” she murmured, and then she turned and fell into a dreamless sleep, holding the beast tight to her chest.