High above the courtyard, on a balcony that overlooked the entire space from the upper level of the palace, Aurex leaned against the stone railing with one arm, a glass of wine dangling loosely from his fingers.
He was watching everything.
He didn't need to be close—he was a deity. His sight was sharp enough to see every bead of sweat rolling down Viya's throat from this distance, sharp enough to count the individual threads straining against her body in that pathetic linen tunic, sharp enough to read the exact expression of desperation and humiliation twisting every face in the courtyard below.
He could hear every desperate plea Viya whispered, carried to his ears by the wind as clearly as if she were kneeling right beside him, begging.
He watched Viya stumble. Watched her beg. Watched her grip the pillar with white-knuckled hands as her body completely, utterly betrayed her in the most public humiliation possible.
