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My hands remain empty, my plan foiled.
His Adam’s apple bobs with his hard swallow. “We could have brought peace. We could have changed Islor and Ybaris together. But you’re right. You’re not who I thought you were.” His jaw clenches as he studies a long, gold hair pin in his palm. “And I will never believe another word out of your treacherous mouth.”
“I swear to you, Zander—”
“Don’t you ever say my name again!” he roars. He pauses a few moments to regain his composure, and when he speaks again, his voice has taken on that cold, detached tone. “You will face your punishment at dawn, along with the rest of the traitors. And I promise, yours won’t be quick or painless, as my parents’ deaths were not.” He nods toward my hand. “Let us see if it can keep you from Azo’dem, for surely that’s where the fates will deem you deserve to go.” He strolls out of my cell without a backward glance, the bars clanging as the door slams shut. His footfalls down the stairs are swift, and they take all my hope along with them.
Tugging my dress back into place, I rush to the window, ready to tell him everything—about Sofie, Korsakov, the horn, this mission for Malachi’s stone. But he must have gone another way because the only people in the courtyard are the soldier pacing in front of the tower door and the two men arranging a line of wooden structures.
Icy unease prickles my skin as I survey the structures again with more discerning eyes. Piles of timber of varying lengths are stacked purposely beneath, like kindling for a fire.
Those are pyres and this is an execution square.
And by his last words to me, I’m certain I know which method I’m destined for.
My insides sink as I finally grasp the true gravity of my situation.
The king may still love whoever he thinks I am, but he also just sentenced her to death.
