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He smiled. “When have I ever listened?”
He helped me up, saying something about thinking me gone and how he’d never forgive me if I died, as though I had a choice in the matter. He mentioned Razak—about helping Razak destroy the crowns. His smile was all I needed, which was a good thing, because his voice was growing ever distant. He turned away, briefly checking on Draven and Razak, and I dabbed at my side, where Razak had punched me—and my hand came away soaked in blood.
Not a punch then.
The knife he’d held, he’d stabbed me with it.
Strange, how I couldn’t feel the wound, just tired, and cold… I looked up and found Draven glaring past Arin, right at me. He’d seen my hand, the blood. I shook my head. It was nothing. I wiped my hand clean on my already bloody coat.
It wasn’t over.
Not yet.
“Bring Razak,” I told Draven. “I have a gift for him.”
Draven asked Noemi to stay with his son, and we left the room and stepped out of the tower into startling sunshine. Pain’s streets steamed under its rays, and above, the endless storms had passed. It didn’t seem possible. I’d never seen the city in sunlight. So beautiful and fitting for a goodbye.
“That carriage—” I nodded toward the black carriage, the same one we’d commandeered earlier. Unsurprisingly, the driver was missing. But I knew the way.
“No.” Razak squirmed in Draven’s grip. “Zayan, what are you doing? Where are we going? Release me. Arin, you gave your word.”
“Did I?” Arin shrugged. “I don’t recall.”
Razak’s chest heaved. “Youlied?”
“Fuck me.” Draven laughed. “He actually believed you.”
“How dare you laugh, warlord,” Razak snarled. “I’ll have your tongue!”
“And who is going to follow your orders, prince?” Draven asked, sweeping a hand at the crowd milling around the baking streets. “None here seem to care.” Draven dragged Razak into the carriage, yanked the red sash from around his waist, and tied Razak’s wrists behind him. Draven nodded, ready.
I took up the reins in the driver’s seat, and Arin climbed alongside me.
“Whereareyou taking him?” Arin held my gaze, and he knew. He nodded.
I snapped the reins and trotted the horses toward the city outskirts. It wasn’t far. My side throbbed, beating hot and heavy with the motion of the carriage. I had to do this one final thing, and then I could rest. Maybe forever.
The rain clouds returned as we left the city for the forest. And soon, the rain began again. The roads narrowed, turning into a muddy track, and eventually we came to a familiar hill.
Arin climbed down first. With him focused on Draven and Razak, I dropped from the seat, gasped at the bolt of pain, and slumped against the carriage, clutching my side. But my brother hadn’t killed me yet… I just had to do this, just this one final thing… The resolution, the end. And then, the tale would be over, its story told.
Draven hauled Razak out. My brother’s eye blew wide. “No. No, you can’t. You can’t do this. You love me, you know you do. Zayan, no…” He tried to dig his heels in, but Draven muscled him on, up the hill, through the same mud-thick puddles we’d splashed through earlier.
“No!” he yelled. “Arin, if you let him do this, it’ll ruin him.”
Arin wasn’t listening. He looked up at the hanging tree, the tree Razak had almost hung him from, and there was nothing left to say.
Draven growled at Razak’s attempts to writhe free, then clamped Razak’s neck in his thick fingers and swung him around beneath the oak’s main branch.
“Do you have rope?”
Arin scooped his frayed rope from the mud, and without a word, fashioned a noose from its remaining length. He flung it over the branch and tied it off. The noose dangled, its threat clear.
Razak stared at it, no longer fighting. “Justice will imprison you all for this.”
“This is justice.” I nodded at Draven, and together with Arin, he righted the stool, held Razak on it, and slung the noose around Razak’s neck. Once the rope touched his skin, he froze.
“You can’t,” he begged me. “Zayan, you can’t. I’m your brother.”
