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I felt his emotion, and it welled inside me too. I mourned deeply for him and for Violeta, for what they had before she died, and what might have been had she lived.
There were fifteen prisoners, a mix of men and women. Their hands were bound before them, bodies bruised and beaten. A few glared at me through swollen eyes; others kept their gazes on their feet. I could not stop looking at them, feeling so many confused emotions tangling inside me. I wanted to demand answers, but I also did not wish to hear them explain their hate.
Each prisoner stood on a wood stump, and each had a noose around their neck, the knot secured before the ear and the lower jaw.
There was no fanfare—no words of warning, no shouts of protest—only silence as the guards and Daroc stepped forward to kick each stump from beneath their feet. The ropes creaked and the bodies swung, and there were a few strangled sounds, but mostly, there was silence as the bodies convulsed and jerked violently. Their faces swelled; their eyes bulged; their tongues jutted from their mouths. It was horrible to witness, and I watched until they ceased to sway.
***
When we returned to the castle, a pyre was being assembled in the courtyard in preparation for Violeta’s funeral.
“Does she have to burn?” I asked Adrian, watching the progress blindly.
“It’s safest,” he said.
I knew that, and I knew why—buried bodies could rise again, and while I did not wish that for Violeta, it felt wrong to reduce her to ash and bone.
“How will I visit her?” I whispered, my vision blurry.
Adrian lifted my hand to his lips, and I looked at him, swallowing hard as he kissed me.
“Why don’t we bury her ashes in the garden,” he said. “Perhaps, when we return to Lara, you can bring a few of your mother’s flowers.”
More tears gathered in my eyes.
“I want to see her,” I said.
Adrian froze. “Isolde—”
“You do not have to take me. I will go by myself,” I said.
He stared at me for a moment. I knew his hesitation came from a good place, but I wanted what I wanted. I was not delusional. I knew seeing her would be difficult. I knew it would be how I remembered her for the rest of my life, but I needed to say goodbye.
Adrian took me to Violeta.
I expected her to be in the old sanctuary, but she was prepared for her funeral in her chamber.
“I did not want the entire castle to gawk at her,” he explained, though I did not prompt him. And while I thought I could guess why, I still was not prepared when I entered her chamber. Though she was covered from head to toe in a black shroud, her body was bruised and swollen.
A dizzying wave of emotion brought tears to my eyes again and a tightening to my chest. I took a breath, but it left me in a huff, my mouth quivering.
I sat down at her side, staring at her face beneath the shroud.
“She died for nothing,” I said. We never even managed to finish the spell. “I should have never asked her.”
“You cannot blame yourself for her choice to help.”
“Perhaps I should blame myself for thinking we could cast a counterspell at all,” I said.
“Or you could honor Violeta and acknowledge that it was an incredibly brave thing,” Adrian said.
I took a shuddering breath, and I lowered the veil.
I could not describe the physical pain I felt once I could see her injuries in the full light of her room. She did not look like Violeta at all, her eyes swollen shut, her cheeks cut and bruised, her mouth sunken and torn.
I thought I could kiss her goodbye, but I only had the strength to cover her face again.
I rose quickly and faced Adrian, brushing the tears from my face.
