She is mine.
And I am hers.
Even if I can’t yet say those three fucking words.
Thirty-Three
The only peace in this world walks alongside Death.
Then I will kill Death to have my peace.
- King Richard
The crowd buzzes with a sickness for revenge. Shouts for justice and insults fly through the air, battering me along with the four bombers I’m escorting to the square outside of Kholar’s castle. Their thirst for blood is insatiable, forcing my guards to push them back as they try to reach the stage that’s been erected for today.
Jace walks silently beside me. As the head of my security, his presence is required. Otherwise, he’d be with my wife. Instead, Fabia has been left with her, along with two fully-masked Echos that are guarding her door. Nicholas and the twelve Court members’ seconds are attending the debate we had scheduled. Like with my wife, I try to keep him away from these events. He doesn’t have the heart to watch.
Nor does he have the strength to look me in the eye the next day, and I don’t ever want my queen to fear me like that. To look at me with that guilt and judgement and terror.
“You killed my son, you fucking bastards!” a member of the crowd shouts.
A rock flies through the air and hits one of the bombers on the forehead. She bares her teeth at the crowd, but her missing tongue doesn’t let her speak. The other two women keep their head up, but the male cowers and cries as the people scream at them.
“Child killer!”
“Rot in Niflhel!”
“May you catch the gods’ attention!”
“Harsh,”Jace mutters about that last one. It is not a good life even for those who are blessed by the gods. Just look at the werewolves who are moontouched, born with Artemis’ favour.
We stop in the middle of the square. The prisoners are tied up to four poles, their backs to them, their wrists and ankles tied with witch’s snares – thin golden chains imbued with unbreakable magic.
I glance at the members of my Royal Guard who were at the market that day. They stand in the front row, behind the guards holding back the crowd. Evangeline’s ants are here too, no doubt, taking people out silently if they seem to be causing too much chaos.
This needs to be a moment of community. Of coming together over a common enemy.
King Dravr and his people stand with my Royal Guard, as do the Razian families who lost their loved ones.
Lifting my gaze to the buzzing crowd, I say, “The four you see before you have been charged with treason by FI-9 for bombing the market, killing seven Razians and nineteen Vylians. They’ve been sentenced to die by justifier.”
The male bomber babbles with his missing tongue, trying desperately to argue his case. Or perhaps to beg forgiveness for his actions. Seeking mercy where there is none.
The others hold silent under the shouting of the crowd, holding on to the only thing they have left – their dignity.
But even that will soon be taken.
I glance at one of the guards on my left, and she steps forwards with an open box. The justifier sits on a silk bed of purple fabric – five black metal claws to be put over each finger, connected by thin chains to secure it to one’s hand. Purple ravens have been painted onto each claw.
Pulling it out, I slip the device onto my left hand. As I latch its black chain around my wrist, my queen’s soft, pink eyes appear in front of me. Accusatory. Disgusted.
“He’s not a monster like you!”
The memory of her words cut deep.
Nicholas’ eyes join hers – unable to look at me even though he’s been raised in this life. Even though he knows I am merely doing my duty as king.
It will destroy her to see me like this.
