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Finan ran his finger along the edge of the blade, checking that it was sharp enough to cut through bone. I’d seen enough executioners do it before; this was a mere habit for The Wolf.

Fuck, Stasia had to be right. All I had was her word and what I saw in Axel’s mind—that he trusted Finan and followed his instructions for a wild and risky escape. Still, that didn’t assure me that Finan wasn’t lying to Axel.

Finan tilted his chin toward the Horse. “Did you invite any vampires to feast?” he asked. My stomach turned. Vampires didn’t love enjoying a freshly dead body, but if it still flowed with warm blood, I supposed it made sense they might want to give this death use. With vampires no longer hidden in Vylheim, what was to prevent them from drinking execution blood?

The Horse nodded. “Yes, sir, but none have come. They’ve had their fill of captives.”

Disgusting.

Finan smirked, his eyes falling back onto Axel. The rippling muscles in Finan’s arms flexed as he lifted the weighty ax, poised to strike and remove Axel’s head in one swing. I didn’t doubt Finan was physically capable and well-practiced. Since becoming an executioner, how many witches had he beheaded? And why did he never attempt to escape, even if just for Stasia?

I had to believe. I have to believe her. I do, I believe her… My pulse slowed to a dull tick in my ears, and I held my breath in the seconds when the ax swung down.

“No,” I breathed. This couldn’t be Axel’s end. I closed my eyes—not to shield myself from his death—but to project into the seconds following, through Axel’s eyes.

The thud of metal hitting bone forced bile up my throat. A squelch of severed flesh followed, and then screams erupted. But I was merely staring at dirt, and at my weathered hands splayed against the path. Pepper hair streaked with white hung in my eyes. I was still seeing through Axel’s perspective.

He was alive.

My eyes peeled apart to see the ax embedded in the Horse’s throat. Blood spurted from the thick vein in his neck as he collapsed face-first beside where Axel had crouched. Now, Axel leaped to his feet and shed the chain that, apparently, was never locked. He drew a sword from the sheath at Finan’s hip, and Axel danced lightly on his feet as he ducked from a dagger wielded by a lynx-faced woman. She was lithe and speedy, but not trained as well as Axel. He thrust the sword through her ribs with all the grace of a musician strumming the strings of a lyre.

Chaos broke out as Grimward whipped out their weapons. Soren dissipated into shadow, and villagers watched in fascinated horror or ran screaming, assuming the executioners would start gutting them. The Cat who’d chained Soren froze in a state of disbelief after her captive vanished into smoke and dust. Shadows surrounded the executioner at my back. My captor’s grip on my arm remained until the shadows swirled and tightened at the executioner’s throat. Bone snapped, and the eagle mask fell to the dirt, followed by his useless body. A puff of dust exploded around the lifeless hunk of flesh, and his head twisted in the wrong direction. His mask had slipped off, a dishonor to an executioner even in death.

The shadows worked at my lock next. I peeled the chains from my wrist as soon as they loosened, but kept them in my fist in case I needed to use them to swing at someone. I’d take anything solid to attack with since the Grimward had disarmed us before chaining us up.

After projecting into Axel’s future, and then watching Soren, it took me too long to locate Drak. Relief gushed through me at the sight of him disarming an executioner who attempted to escape. The masked man weaved through the throng of people, making a direct line for Drak, who charged at him with full force. Drak ducked and tossed the man over his shoulder, letting the ground knock the wind from his lungs. I held my breath in the time it took Drak to spin around and slam the heel of his boot against the man’s temple. His mask, too, fell off with the force of Drak’s foot.

Once he had crushed the man’s skull, he turned and found me. He must have sensed my gaze, but his eyes trailed past me. His mouth fell open and his shouts fell on deaf ears among the screams and scrape of metal alongside the pounding footsteps and the buzz of a nervous crowd.

As I followed his line of sight, footsteps announced The Fox's swift approach from the side. She stood at my height, armed to the teeth with two small blades in her fists, a sword at one hip and an ax matching Finan’s hanging at her other hip.

In battle, I’d sharpened my foresight to know that she would throw the blades to get me to dodge and stumble. Once I stumbled, she’d take the other small weapon and jam it through my eye socket.

When the blade sailed through the air, I didn’t dodge, and instead lifted the chains and let metal block metal. The blade clinked and clattered to the dirt. In her bewilderment, I took the time to drop the chains and swipe the sword from beside the discarded eagle mask and jam it into the flexed muscle of her calf.

Fragments of the future told me Drak would make it to me in time; I simply had to duck and weave to avoid another attack. As the Fox reached for her ax, grunting in pain, Drak knocked her hand away and grabbed her jaw and shoulder in each hand. With a snap, he broke her spine.

While combat locked each of us down, the last remaining executioner ducked away from the fight and bolted. I made a note of him as he vanished into the sea of bodies. One escapee who’d report to Silver what’d happen, and that King Drakkar was alive and walking this kingdom again. We had to be prepared for her retaliation and move fast toward a siege before she struck.

But Axel was alive. We all were, so relief came swiftly after the buzz of battle coursing through my veins eased.

I twisted toward the fish vendor and offered Stasia a nod. She was right. Finan betrayed those around him, sure, but it wasn’t us. The Grimward would now forever consider him a traitor. This was treason, of course, punishable by whatever Silver decided. She’d likely feed him to vampires or sacrifice him to the gods.

With villagers still hovering and wide-eyed, their curiosity hung thick in the humidity, but their fear receded as the Wolf stood before them and peeled off his animal mask. His eyes locked on Stasia as the shape of the wolf came off ‌him and only a man stood there, staring at the woman who’d followed him to Mara’s Keep all those years ago.

For the first time, I saw Finan’s entire face. The horror of a tortured life that lined his strong brow was evident in his simple brown eyes too. Scruff shadowed his chin and crude, jagged swells of a scar jutted from either side of his mouth and along his cheeks, parallel to his jaw, almost reaching all the way to his ears, as if someone had cut his lips at the side trying to extend the width of his mouth to stretch across his face. I couldn’t imagine what created scars like that, but he’d forever bear the face of a perpetual, horrifying smile. A scar that I’d only caught glimpses of when the mask had shadowed his mouth and chin.

The wolf mask remained in his grasp, as if he couldn't part with it. But now that his eyes were free of the darkness from it, he scanned the villagers holding their places in a circle around us.

He glanced from person to person, his gaze lingering on me before moving on to the rest of the onlookers. “Let it be known,” he stated, his voice steady and clear, yet not unkind. “I am no longer an executioner. I shed my station in the Grimward this day.”

I glanced at Stasia, whose eyes welled with shimmering tears. Night had fallen, but the lanterns hanging above the vendors’ booths cast enough of a glow to reflect in her bright eyes.

Drak stepped up to Finan and removed his hood. He thrust out a hand to offer Finan a shake, but it took Finan a full minute of staring at Drak to recognize what he was seeing.

“You’re no longer loyal to Silver, is that right?” Drak asked.

Finan frowned, that scar pulling tight but never down. “I was loyal only to my oath, King Drakkar.”