Nearly sundown. I dismount.

Father’s been strappado since daybreak.

“Almost tardy,” the queen sneers. “Release him.” 

I drag my left side—that she ordered beaten useless this morning—to the barb-coated lever near her throne. 

Pull. 

Wail. 

Father descends, flinching at my cries. 

At the end of my arm, our livelihood shreds.