The royals gasped yet again, this time at her audacity, but she didn't care. She had no power to change her punishment, but she would very well decide what attitude she would take it with. The Princess wanted her humiliated, cowed. This was no humiliation for her. There was no one in that room that didn't know she was being whipped due to the whiles of a petulant little girl.

"Right there is fine, Lieutenant." The Punisher's smile was mocking as he unravelled the whip and let it hit the floor with a thud. She was familiar with the expression in his eyes; he was the type that enjoyed inflicting pain.

Leyla nodded, then turned her back to her would be assailant and undid the buttons of her coat. Another murmur ran through the crowd as Leyla took off the article, folded it neatly, and put it on the ground in front of her. She stood in her white shirt without flinching.

"Father, are you going to let her act like that?" The Princess complained into the silence.

"I see no acting here." The King replied, his voice carrying to the furthest reaches of the room. "This is how a Warrior takes punishment. As the future queen, you will do well to recognise it."

Leyla wondered if that was meant to be an apology. Being called a Warrior by the King, under other circumstances, she might have been grateful. But not today...

She heard the whip slash through the air before the tip slammed into her back and tore her shirt. The initial pain took her breath away, but the burning sensation that came right after was far worse. The second lash almost knocked her forward. She spread her legs for balance, feeling hot sticky blood drip down her back and under her belt.

More lashes rained on her skin, one, two, three... it was somewhere after the tenth that Leyla realised she was a fool. She had made a big display of being unafraid and only now did she realise she would lose consciousness before her twenty lashes were through. If she had had a decent meal in the last week, if she hadn't spent all her energy fighting off the ambush or if the bastard wielding the whip wasn't doing his best to kill her, maybe then she might have made it through all twenty. But not this way.

The whip ripped at her skin once more and Leyla saw black dots swim across her vision. Blood trickled from her bottom lip where she was biting down in order to keep from screaming. For the first time in her life she was grateful she did not have loved ones. If she did, she might had to worry about their feelings. Don't look mother. Father it doesn't hurt. Would she have said such absurd things? A humourless laugh escaped her lips as the whip came down yet again. The black spots grew larger, the burning more distant. Her legs wobbled.

"Your Highness!" The Hall doors burst open, a wide eyed servant bursting in. The torment halted as he rushed forward and was allowed to approach the King. Leyla did not know if the man was whispering or if it was the dull ringing in her ears that kept her from hearing his words. Whatever the message was, it had the King standing up in surprise.

"Halt the punishment! Let him enter!" Everyone turned towards the doors at the command. Momentarily forgotten, Leyla staggered to the nearest column, leaning on it for support.

"Warrior King, I beg your forgiveness for this intrusion. It is not the way of the Light people to pay unexpected visits." A copper-haired man garbed in a white tunic, pants and cloak came into the room, stunning everyone. A messenger from the Land of Light was unheard of. On the rare occasions that the Light people communicated with the other Kingdoms, they chose private settings and met only with royalty. In fact, it was quite possible that no one in that room other than the King himself had ever seen someone from the Light Kingdom before.

"There is nothing to forgive," the King said graciously, moving towards the edge of the dias. "My servant tells me you have a message to deliver. Come this way, and we will speak."

"Warrior King, again I must beg your forgiveness," the messenger bowed low with his three fingers between his brows. "But if you do not object, it will be best if I deliver the message here."

"Go on," the King allowed.

"The Leader of the Land of Light would like to offer you one hundred mature trees that will grow in your merciless soil and give you fruits to pick each summer for many summers to come."

The gathering gasped in surprise. Behind closed eyes and past the searing pain in her back, even Leyla recognised what the offer meant. Such trees would provide the first food grown on Warrior soil for as long as anyone could remember. The pleasure on the Warrior King's face was tempered by uncertainty.

"And what does your Leader require in exchange for this generous gift?"

The messenger raised one very pale finger, the thread-thin design on his cuffs shining silver as he pointed at the column near the centre of the room "My Leader requires her, your Highness. The black-haired Warrior called Leyla."