I had only once burnt myself very badly when I was young child. My mother had a blue scented candle in one of these glass jars that she used light when visitors came over. My Grandmother had come to visit one day and after she left my mother allowed me to blow out the candle. I remember reaching for the candle not really thinking that the glass would be hot and when I touched it the skin on the tip of my right index finger peeled away. I still have a small o-shaped scar on the tip of that finger as a token reminder of my little accident. Burning that tiny area had been unbearable painful for weeks after. Branding would be ten times worse. There was no doubt in my mind that this pain may rival the pain I endured when I had my wings severed.

I closed my eyes and silently forgave Dante for what he was about to do to me. I retreated deep inside my mind and focused on the memory of waking up on top of Dante’s broken body after he had protected me from that fall. This was a small pain to endure to save him. He would do anything for me so I had to hold on to that.

The gaoler rolled up the sleeve of my dress. Tears began to roll down my cheeks splashing on to the cold stone slab.

“Burn her hard.” Dante ordered.

“Yes your highness.” The gaoler replied taking a firm grip of the branding iron.

Holding my breath I braced myself. The sizzle was brief and unbelievable fast. The scent of burning flesh hit my nostrils and repressed the urge to wretch. I waited for the explosion of pain but instead heard the gaoler make a strange noise like a gasp. Shortly after that there was a loud metal clang and the sound of shuffling. I opened my eyes and stared down at my arm. Stunned amazement hit me like a train, Dante’s hand was over my arm, his own flesh was burnt and blistered. He removed his hand trembling in pain.

“What the hell?” He murmured.

The gaolers exchanged bewildered looks with each other.

“Did you do this?” Dante demanded looking accusingly at me.

“I don’t understand?” I said sitting up.

“Ah, I see your game, you’re a witch aren’t you. You’ve placed a whole castle under a spell! You made me put my hand there!”

“What are you talking about?” I replied.

“My hand it forced itself over your arm to stop you being branded.” Dante yelled.

“I don’t know what you are talking about!” I said.

Dante staggered backwards staring at his now semi-healed hand. Why the hell did he take the branding for me? I sat up and moved forward to the edge of the stone slab intending to slide off. Dante looked up to see me moving and I saw panic register in his eyes. He moved across the room and prevented me from stepping down. His hands rested firmly either side of me, his bright green eyes were staring into mine and for a split second he just stared at me. Pink tinted his cheeks and he let go of my arms. Bending down he picked up the poker that I would have trod on if he hadn’t caught me.

The gaoler approached Dante and asked politely, “Would you like me to try again?”

Dante looked at the poker then at me.

“I can’t stand the smell of burning flesh. I’ll have to think of something else.” He said dropping the iron poker into a bucket of water. The water hissed and fizzed steam then settled. Dante stalked across the room stealing little glances at me. Raking his hand through his hair he turned to the gaolers and said,

“Take the witch to the highest tower and lock her in the highest room. I will decide what to do with her tomorrow evening.”

His tone was uneven and shaky like he had been rattled by something. The gaoler bowed respectfully to his Prince.

“Yes your highness.”

Dante turned sharply on his heel and began to walk away. He was almost out of view when I heard him mutter to himself,

“First dragons, now witches this whole castle is falling apart.”

My eyes lit up, what was going to happen to the dragon? Unable to keep my mouth shut I yelled after him,

“What are you going to do to the dragon?”

Dante stopped in his tracks. He stilled for a moment and replied coldly-

“Look out the window at dawn and you’ll see for yourself.”