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I wanted to thank him but decided to keep my mouth shut. It was too easy to stick my foot in and turn up the temperature.
As the Wing-Liege began to read off something that had been imprinted on a scroll, I phased out. It sounded like an exceedingly boring list of rules and regulations, and although I wanted to pay attention, I had no energy left. I was tired. I was still hurting, and I was worried about the others. Did they think I was dead? Were my sisters trying to track me down?
An hour later the Wing-Liege turned to me and I snapped back to attention. Compared to Hyto, he looked positively old. I was ready to drop—I was exhausted and could barely think. He smiled, his lips pulling back in a feral grin.
“You bear our lengthy discourse with grace, Camille, wife of Iampaatar. We thank you for this—I know you must be weary. But the formalities are done and I would now read the charges against Hyto. If you have any to add, please, feel free after I am finished.” And then he stood and I forced myself to shake out of it and pay attention.
The Wing-Liege moved around the dais till he was standing in front of Hyto, who was being held upright by two guards.
“Hyto, you were cast out of the Dragon Reaches on pain of death. You were sent forth to mend your ways. You were recently caught attempting to murder Vishana, she who denied you, but we gave you one last chance and allowed you your life. For that breach alone, we should have put you to death. But your sins are long and numerous.”
Hyto started to speak, but the Wing-Liege raised his hand and a crackle of lightning played over his lips. Hyto let out a shriek and closed his mouth.
“You kidnapped the wife of Lord Iampaatar. You abused her, raped her, beat her, and forced your collar around her neck. The penalties for those crimes: death. You attacked your son and would have killed him if you could. The penalty for that crime: death. You have lost any lenience we might have given you. You have lost the right to speak in your own behalf.”
He turned back to the Council. “Lady Vishana has given the first right of punishment to her daughter-in-law. Does this meet with your approval?”
The other dragons whispered among themselves. One stood, pushing his chair back. “It does, Your Lordship.”
The Wing-Liege turned to me. “Lady Camille Sepharial te Maria D’Artigo, wife of Lord Iampaatar, you have the first right of punishment. Name Hyto’s method of death, or if you wish to strike the final blow yourself, that is within your right.”
I gulped. They were giving me the choice of how Hyto would die? Even offering me the chance to kill him myself?
Feeling awkward and thrust into the spotlight, I walked up to my enemy and stared him in the face. I’d killed before, and been glad to see some of them die. But this was Smoky’s father, and I’d be ordering his death in cold blood.
Hyto gazed down at me, the sneer still on his face. “Do you have the courage to order my death? You’d better, girl, because if you don’t, I’ll be back. I’ll be after you until the day I die. I’ll kill everyone you love. I’ll destroy everything you hold dear. I’ll rip you to bits, first through your emotions and then by your body. You are my she-devil and I will not rest until I’ve driven you so far into oblivion that you can never reach daylight.”
He meant what he said. If they locked him up, he’d find a way out. His hatred would sustain him. There was no choice—Hyto had to die. And my responsibility included ordering his death. Vishana would, if I couldn’t bring myself to, or Smoky, but this was my battle. Hyto had injured me and it was my duty to claim punishment.
I turned to the waiting dragons—now my people as much as the Fae or the humans. I had married into a powerful clan, and they weren’t squeamish. I couldn’t afford to be weak in their eyes . . . nor in my own.
I turned back to Hyto. “I will not raise my own hand to you—I will never sully myself by touching you again. But I claim your death—for Lady Vishana, for Lord Iampaatar, and for myself. I claim your death through a quick, clean bolt of lightning.” I would not lower myself to his level. As much as I’d wanted to torture him—to make him scream the way he’d made me scream, I would not become what he had become—a sadist.
The Wing-Liege motioned for me to look at him. “Is this your will? That Hyto die by lightning?”
“It is.” I glanced over at Smoky and Vishana, and they both gave me long smiles, nodding their approval. Apparently, I’d passed yet another test.
“Then I pronounce sentence. Hyto, you will die by lightning. Now, here, before another day passes.” Apparently dragons didn’t wait around once they’d made decisions.
Two poles were brought to the center of the pavilion and placed in holes in the floor to hold them upright. Hyto’s arms and legs were fastened with manacles, spreading them wide. His hair moved wildly, but where Vishana had severed the long thick strand, blood had crusted over. I suddenly understood—their hair was part of their bodies. It had a life of its own because it wasn’t just dead keratin.
Hyto said nothing—not another word. He simply grinned his sickly smile, watching me the entire time as they lashed him to the poles. The dragons on the tiers were murmuring, but I got no sense that they were enjoying this. It wasn’t some Roman arena, or goblin death match. This was justice, and they were witnesses to it being carried out.
I looked up to find Smoky and his mother standing by my side. Smoky took my hand and I suddenly felt horrible. I’d just sentenced his father to die. But he gazed down at me and squeezed my fingers.
“It’s all right,” he leaned down to whisper. “This was long coming, and not your fault. You simply got caught in the crossfire.”
“My son is correct.” Vishana leaned down on my other side. “Blame not yourself, Camille. Hyto brought this on himself. He taught me a lot about what not to do—how not to be.” She smiled gently and reached out to cup my chin. “You are lovely . . . granted, at first, I would have rather Iampaatar married a dragon—but that matters no longer. You are family. You will bring your sisters here to meet my children.”
>I paused. But he read me as if I were ink on the page.
“I will never touch you that way. I will never lay hands on you—I will not hurt you, Camille. I’m sorry . . . I wish I could wipe away what he did, but at least I can help mend the scars.”
The catch in his voice broke my heart. I was not the only one who’d been hurt. Hyto had done his best to destroy both me and his son. He’d made Smoky feel helpless, feel like he could not protect his family. He’d ripped at Smoky’s very sense of self. We would have to mend each other’s wounds.
“My love, kiss me.” I pulled him in then, hungry for his touch. He hesitated, but I pressed my lips to his.
And then his weight was against me and we were leaning back in the bath, with him stretched out against my body. The mood shifted—we needed one another, hungry and desperate to reconnect.
