Cassandra shrugged. “Perhaps the Emperor is jealous that my wings are so much prettier than his.”
Wormwood’s face broke into wide grin. “They are that, indeed. A beautiful color, too. Rather rare.”
Cassandra drew her chin up, waiting to see how this played out. She wasn’t about to confirm or denyanything.
“Your sentence is rather rare as well. Did you know that?” Wormwood cocked his head. “In the seven centuries of the prison’s existence, very few had been given a death sentence. What’s the point? Life within the wards is akin to death. Even those who receive less than a life sentence typically choose to stay here rather than chasing their freedom in the mists.”
“Who carries out the sentence?” Ronin asked, reaching for Cassandra’s hand.
Wormwood shot the Koenig an amused smile. “Who do you think?”
Faster than Cassandra could blink, the Koenig tore a knife from his baldric and whipped it toward her.
A gloved hand appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and grabbed it a hairsbreadth from Cassandra’s heart.
Outraged shouts burst through the hall, and she fought to catch her breath as a cloaked figure stepped in front of her.
“Executioner’s appeal,” a lovely, melodic female voice said, barely audible above the din.
“Quiet!” Wormwood roared, silencing the crowd. “What did you say?”
The female turned toward the Koenig’s translator, revealing a slice of her profile. Ronin blew out a long, ragged breath.
“Executioner’s appeal,” the female said, louder. “She demands an executioner’s appeal.”
Wormwood frowned. “Well, that’s just absurd. Surely, we need not—” His words died on his lips as he faced the Koenig, whose expression was murderous. Murderous, yet resigned. As if hearing these ancient words from this tiny female, barely taller than Cassandra herself, had thwarted all his plans.
Wormwood regarded the Koenig’s swirling hands with rapt attention, his indignation falling with each flick of his master’s fingers. He loosed a heavy sigh. “Very well.” He swept a judgmental sneer from Cassandra’s head down to her toes. “Little good will it do her. Do you agree to this, prisoner 161803?”
Cassandra had no idea what in the name of Stygios she might be agreeing to. “I?—”
“May I speak with her first, sire?” the female asked. The Koenig crossed his arms and gave her a curt nod.
Swiveling heads followed as Cassandra let herself be led into the shadows behind a column. Ronin remained by the dais, looking as if someone had punched a hole through his ribs and scooped out his insides.
The female removed her hood, and Cassandra finally got a look at her face. It was possibly the most beautiful she’d ever seen, all pale ivory skin and sharp cheekbones, full lips and glowing silver eyes.
“Mireille?”
Mireille didn’t even question how Cassandra knew her name. “There is so much I need to tell you, but we’ll have time for that later. For now, all you need to know is this. I’ve just given you the chance to defy your sentence.”
“How?”
“By defeating the Koenig in armed combat.”
Cassandra nearly doubled over in hysterics.
Mireille gripped her shoulders. “I know that sounds absurd, but it’s how the Koenig himself earned his title. Every prisoner who is given a death sentence has the opportunity to thwart it and win that hammer.” Cassandra glanced toward the black weapon with the glowing polemite heart. “Do you trust me?”
Cassandra scarcely knew how to answer that question. Ronin’s story had not painted Mireille in the best light. But there was something strangely familiar about her.
Plus, shehadjust saved Cassandra’s life.
The wordyesfell from her lips before she could question it.
Relief softened Mireille’s features as she closed her eyes and nodded. When she reopened them, Cassandra could’ve sworn she saw flames blazing within their mercury depths.
“I need you to listen to me very,verycarefully,” Mireille said.
