Faye's POV
The tea cup felt warm against my palms as I sat in the courtyard, savoring each bitter sip. The liquid helped steady my nerves while the winter air nipped at my exposed skin. This moment of calm stood in stark contrast to the chaos unfolding before me.
Hillary knelt in the center of the yard, her bare back already marked with angry red welts. Ethan stood behind her, methodically bringing the wooden cane down with practiced precision. Each strike produced a sharp crack that echoed off the stone walls, followed by her increasingly hoarse screams.
The sound drew curious onlookers. Passing soldiers slowed their steps, then stopped entirely, forming an impromptu audience around the spectacle. I had anticipated this reaction. Public punishment always attracted attention, and that was exactly what I wanted.
