They say once you have a good friend, they are all you need in your life. Even during hard times, they will stand by through thick and thin.
They will be your backbone, your support system. But the case was contrary for Joya; right that moment as she stood gazing at Merlin, her mind went blank.
This height of betrayal was too much to handle; Joya felt her heart tighten. She placed her right hand on her chest as if to steady her breathing.
She needed no explanation anymore. Merlin's silence had said it all, and it was painful to think that this very woman in front of her was the only person she had in this world.
She would have given everything to keep her safe, to make sure their friendship stood the test of time, but not anymore.
"Has the cat got your tongue, Joya?"
Merlin questioned with a grin etched at the corner of her lips.
Joya could do nothing but glare at her; she was still digesting the fact that Merlin had been a wolf in sheep's clothing.
Indeed she was a fool to have trusted her.
"Do you know that I have always treated you like a sister?"
Joya questioned coldly before yanking her hand out of Prator's grip.
"It is not your betrayal that amuses me but your stupidity."
She added, then scoffed.
"And to think that Prator believed a word you said…" She paused, then turned to look at him. "I didn't know you were so easily taken by words."
Merlin's brows shot up; something was amiss. The way Joya was talking sounded estranged.
"I did not plan to release the slaves."
Joya said with a straight face, then pointed her finger towards Merlin's direction.
"She did!
It was all too appalling. Merlin had thought Joya was the type to give up easily. When she had decided to go behind her back to make her plans known to Prator, she had carefully chosen her words.
But what are words without evidence to back them up?
"She speaks nothing but lies."
Merlin said calmly, and it was a fact…. Joya was indeed lying, but she was not just going to stand there and let her ruin everything she had worked for.
"Is that so?"
She questioned with a pouted lip.
"What proof do you have that I said such a thing?"
"Can you not see that she is lying? Just look at her face!
Merlin said, lurching forward, the fact that Prator was contemplating whether or not to believe Joya was driving her nuts.
"Hold your tongue, Merlin."
Parator commanded calmly, his deep voice echoing in the room.
Joya blinked her eyes rapidly to drive back the tears threatening to spill from her eyes. She needed to do this, to defend the last bit of honor she had.
She knew Parator, she knew his men, and she understood her life was on the line. If anyone were to smell her betrayal, she would be as good as dead.
Up till now she has done everything to survive; she lived on the streets and stole to survive, and she is still on the run from Hamstung Palace. The royal prince must never recognize her; that was why she kept her hair short, and now…this.
Her friend has decided to become her worst nightmare, her enemy.
"I underestimated you, Joya. If you will not tell the truth, then you must prove your words."
Merlin said, then walked up to the corner of the room, grabbed a whip, and then walked up to Prator. She fell on her knees, her face looking up to him, and then with outstretched hands, she presented the whip to him.
"Make her flog one of the slaves to prove her loyalty to you."
She said without thinking twice. Joya's eyes widened.
This was almost unbearable… pathetic!
Merlin understood that Joya had compassion for the people in the bay; her intentions towards them were nothing but good. That was why she was bent on freeing them.
But to hurt any of them…to use the whip on a slave who has suffered like she has, it was nothing but a sick manipulation.
"How ruthless of you to…"
"Do it."
Joya was saying something when Prator interrupted. His hands were crossed behind his back as he gazed down at the whip in Merlin's hands. His eyes were cold, filled with rage.
One of these two women has him fooled, and they will both pay for it one way or the other.
"What?"
Joya muttered, turning to look at him.
"Use the whip on one of the slaves, or I will have your head hung on a spike."
He said with clenched jaws and then made his way out of the room.
Wouldn't it be better if the ground were just to open and swallow her whole right now?
She would have preferred to drive a pivot through her stomach and just end this misery.
Merlin slowly rose to her feet, her eyes never leaving Joya.
"You are right, Joya, I did want him for myself; I suffered. I deserve the same special treatment he gives to you, so I won't give up without a fight."
"A fight?"
Joya bit her lips bitterly.
"What exactly are you fighting for? A man that will fuck the living daylight out of you, Merlin!
She screamed, sinking her teeth into her lips, until she tasted the sharp salty taste of blood.
"A man that knows how to please a woman. That knows his way around a woman's body."
Merlin added, her face void of any remorse.
Joya's tears dried up instantly, her eyes twitched with fury, and her heart craved vengeance.
"For that you are ready to make another slave suffer, through me?"
Right now she hated the woman standing in front of her.
"Take the whip, Joya."
Merlin said with outstretched hands, she avoided Joya's gaze, refusing to let her see that this was affecting her too.
Joya gazed at the whip for a while, her lashes wet with tears, her eyes red, and her bottom lip blistered from biting it too much.
She then raised her gaze to look at Merlin before taking the whip.
"If you cannot do this, know that I still care about you."
She said, but Joya eyed her from head to toe dreadfully.
"Will you remember me while my head is hung on a spike and my body in the dust?"
I don't think so."
She said and then raised the whip in the air.
Merlin was forced to stagger backwards; she thought Joya was going to use the whip on her.
But instead it descended on the floor just an inch away from her feet with a loud lash!
Without saying a word, Joya turned around and took her leave.
The afternoon sun beat against the austere atmosphere, its scorching rays prickling on sweaty skins.
The air was dry, carrying a faint heat that clung to the nostrils, and the ground lay dusty beneath their feet, each step sending up a thin cloud that drifted lazily before fading back into stillness.
All the slaves were forced to retreat from their work when they heard the sharp scream split through the dry afternoon air.
A woman was struggling desperately, trying to pry loose the patrolling officer's grip on the collar of his shirt as he was dragged toward the execution block.
They all followed the sound of the outcry.
One by one, people drifted toward the commotion until a crowd had gathered, wide, restless, and buzzing with curiosity. Everyone wanted to know what was happening.
Whispers spread quickly.
Who had dared to anger the high officers?
Who was unfortunate enough to have ended up in their grasp?
The woman's tattered dress, already worn thin from days of labor, was now coated in dust as she lay pressed against the hard ground.
The fall had knocked the breath from her, and her cries rose sharply, trembling through the heavy afternoon air.
She reached out a hand, shaking…pleading toward the crowd that circled her.
But instead, people pulled back, their feet shuffling in the dirt, their eyes dropping to the ground rather than meeting her desperate gaze. No one dared to help her. No one even dared to be seen looking too long.
A murmur rippled through the crowd, low at first, then swelling as heads turned in the same direction.
The sea of people parted instinctively, forming a path when they saw Prator approaching.
His hawk eyes cut across the gathering, and with his gaze still fixed ahead,
"You all have been privileged to be entertained on such a lovely day.
His deep voice cuts across the crowd, and the murmurs die instantly.
Just as he spoke, Joya emerged from behind him, the leather of her whip glinting in the harsh afternoon sun.
She moved with precision, every step, every sway of the whip emphasizing control and menace.
Her eyes, sharp and unreadable, scanned the crowd before settling briefly on the woman on the ground.
Immediately, she realized it was a woman. Her heart shrank in her chest.
"Why… a woman?" She whispered, yet she spared Prator no glare.
This was a nightmare.
Every instinct screamed at her to run, but her life was on the line; even if she wanted to, she could not escape it.
"You do not get to choose whether it is a woman or a man," he retorted, his voice low and unyielding.
He signaled her to move further towards the center of the gathering.
At that moment, her gaze swept across the crowd, scanning the sea of anxious, uneasy faces.
Between the moldy, sun-beaten faces, her eyes landed on Merlin.
Their gazes locked, and in that instant, nothing else existed. Her eyes were stern and unwavering; there was no trace of regret, no hint of fear. Only quiet, burning defiance.
Merlin's expression faltered under the intensity of her stare, a flicker of something unspoken passing between them.
Her eyes lingered on Hahn for only a moment before she turned her attention back to the task at hand.
The dusty ground crunched beneath her feet, echoing in the tense silence of the crowd as she moved towards the center with a calmness that belied the chaos around her.
Her posture was straight, her gaze steady, projecting a strength she didn't fully realize she possessed.
By the time she reached the center, the woman on the ground seemed smaller, more vulnerable, as if the very space had shifted under her presence.
The woman on the ground trembled violently, her body quaking with fear, teeth chattering, and terror seeping into her bones.
When she lifted her tear-filled eyes, all Joya could see was pure, unfiltered pain.
An agony so raw it ignited old memories of her own suffering, memories of endless trials, of nights spent questioning her worth, of battles fought just to carve a place for herself in a world that has been nothing but cruel to her.
"She is weak!" one officer barked, his voice cutting through the tense silence.
They have been standing for a while now, and Joya has yet to make a move.
Immediately, the others joined in, their voices rising in union.
"Weakling!
"A fool!
"What a waste of time."
The words bounced in the air.
Prator's eyes lingered on Joya for a while before raising his voice to say,
"Take her away!"
He barked, his tone sharp and cold, with not the slightest hint of surprise in his voice at what he saw was nothing but incompetence.
He turned to leave, shoulders rigid, exuding the same unshakable authority that had kept the crowd frozen.
Just as he turned to leave, two of his men advanced towards Joya.
But before they could make it to where she stood, she lifted the whip in the air, and as swift as lightning, it descended on the woman, a line tracing along the thin material of the dress she was wearing.
The woman erupted in a loud scream that made Prator halt in his steps.
Merlin was so speechless, her lips parted wide open; she felt bile build up in her throat as the cry of the woman rang in her ear. All she could mutter was…
"That…that cannot be Joya."