"Then on whose?" the Magister asks Eric. "Your Queen's? What shall it be, Sheriff?"
His henchmen turn the wheel, creaking on its rusty axle, until Pam is in a shaft of sickly light. Her pale skin looks even paler, the fear in her eyes even clearer. But she doesn't fear only for herself. She fears for Eric.
"Desecration of the blood?" the Magister continues. "Or treason against your regent?"
He doesn't give Eric much of a choice. And Pam wishes he didn't have to make one with her at stake. Again.
"Both among the most dire of crimes..."
The Magister turns to Pam, and as casually as if he were caressing her with a finger, he gouges a burning cut down the center of her chest with the tip of his cane.
She screams:
"It was Bill Compton!"
Through the debilitating torment, Pam manages to look up and hold Eric's gaze.
no subject
Not on my orders.
Pam's mind is racing.
"Then on whose?" the Magister asks Eric. "Your Queen's? What shall it be, Sheriff?"
His henchmen turn the wheel, creaking on its rusty axle, until Pam is in a shaft of sickly light. Her pale skin looks even paler, the fear in her eyes even clearer. But she doesn't fear only for herself. She fears for Eric.
"Desecration of the blood?" the Magister continues. "Or treason against your regent?"
He doesn't give Eric much of a choice. And Pam wishes he didn't have to make one with her at stake. Again.
"Both among the most dire of crimes..."
The Magister turns to Pam, and as casually as if he were caressing her with a finger, he gouges a burning cut down the center of her chest with the tip of his cane.
She screams:
"It was Bill Compton!"
Through the debilitating torment, Pam manages to look up and hold Eric's gaze.
Use him. Use him!