Change of Darkness (The Change Series Book 3) by Jacinta Jade (best new books to read txt) 📕

males approaching from the tunnel leading into the arena. Dressed all in black, they had hard faces.

Then she realised the countdown was approaching her position in line, and Siray stiffened a little in anxious anticipation as first Zale, then Baindan, shouted out their numbers from beside her.

‘Six!’

‘Five!’

‘Four!’ Siray shouted.

Kinna finished the count at one, and the captives stood there, tense, each moment of silence Herrin allowed only adding to their sense of unease.

Even Siray was beginning to doubt her earlier theories. She was sure they had complied with Herrin’s order completely by continuing to run. Hadn’t they? Or was there something they hadn’t done that they should have? Siray didn’t know.

At this point, the two males dressed in black had crossed the sand to reach the trainer. They did not interact with Herrin but merely waited off to his sides, a pace or two behind him.

Siray understood their wish to keep a healthy distance between themselves and the trainer, given the lethal swiftness he had demonstrated earlier, but she couldn’t fathom how they weren’t dying of heat exhaustion in those dark uniforms.

Herrin opened his arms as he gestured to the line of captives. ‘I want one single file before me, starting with number one.’

Kinna swallowed audibly from where she stood at the front of the line, and Siray knew that the timid female was now regretting her choice of position. The female moved forwards, Loce and Tamot following, and Siray took a deep breath as she, too, stepped up. Close behind her, she could feel the familiar warm presence of Baindan.

Herrin eyed the nervously shifting string of captives. ‘When you do as you are told, you will be rewarded. When you defy, refuse, or do not comply with an order, you will be punished.’

Siray’s stomach began to drop within her. At least she had been right about one thing—they were indeed about to be taught some kind of lesson.

The trainer continued to examine them all, the hard muscle of his arms straining against his shirt. ‘Many of you decided to cease running, despite being given no order to do so. Hence, you will be punished.’ Herrin remained still, while the captives started shifting at his words. ‘And some of you saw others not complying … and did nothing. So you will also be punished.’ The trainer turned his head to one side and dipped his chin.

At his words, Siray felt her blood run cold, her worst theory confirmed. Unconsciously, Siray’s gaze moved in the same direction as Herrin’s, looking for the threat.

Were armed guards about to descend upon them? Would they have to fight for their lives against one another, like Melora had before the march here?

Siray tensed at the sign of movement behind Herrin, and an instant later, felt the slightest brush of a hand against her back. Baindan—probably his subtle way of telling her to wait until the right time to act.

But the motion Siray had spotted only turned out to be from the two males dressed in black, who were simply reaching up and over their shoulders.

She relaxed slightly, then stiffened again as she wondered if they had swords or knives strapped to their backs. And when they each pulled out a single black coil, Siray frowned, her body relaxing as she perceived no immediate threat.

Until the males flicked their wrists … and with a thud, the coils unwound heavily to the sand.

Siray’s stomach knotted, and a new kind of fear gripped her.

Whips. The two males each had a whip.

From the front of the line, Herrin’s head moved as he looked fixedly back at the file. ‘Each of you just called out a number. The number you called out, divided by two, will be the number of lashes you will receive.’

Siray’s mouth went dry. Two lashes. She stared in dread at the whip gripped in one of the soldier’s hands, trying to block out images of its biting end tearing her flesh. But then the full extent of what Herrin had just said sunk in. Yes, she would be getting two lashes—but the female who was number sixty-one would be getting …

‘Thirty-one lashes,’ breathed Baindan from behind her, his voice barely a whisper, rounding up the number as Herrin was sure to do.

‘But,’ said Herrin, interrupting the silently rising panic gripping all the captives as he held up one large hand, almost conversationally. ‘The twenty-one of you who continued to run, you will only receive one each.’ His hands twitched slightly, as if they were expressing the part of him that wanted to grin at the power he wielded over them all.

Siray slumped slightly, swallowing, both relieved and grateful for the reduced punishment. Then she caught herself and closed her eyes tightly, disgusted by her own reaction.

No one should be getting whipped. None of them should even be here.

Is this how it starts, Siray wondered, the transition into one of them? Being grateful for small mercies?

She turned her glaring blue eyes on Herrin, praying to the Mother to supply any one of the dozen torturous deaths she could imagine for him.

Yet the two males in black pants and long shirts were now moving farther away from Herrin and to the sides, the end of the whips trailing through the sand after them like thin, dark serpents.

Herrin’s fists clenched and unclenched in anticipation as he walked backwards, his new position enabling him to see both the soldiers and the line of captives.

‘Number one and two!’ he called.

Kinna and Loce walked forwards, both of them stiff, Loce’s jaws clenched, his dark eyes contrasting sharply with his white face.

Each of the guards pointed to a spot before them, and Siray watched as Kinna, white-faced, stopped on the indicated position.

The soldier gave Kinna another order, and the female reluctantly shuffled back around to present her back to the male, before shakily bending down to kneel on the sand. Kinna’s eyes snapped up to take in all the watching captives briefly, and Siray felt her stomach tighten as she realised the female