Bard came around and picked up a lock of it, and then he held it high in the air with a great, mocking, bellow. The crowd cheered gleefully, its shouts and celebration making Aydra’s ears ring.
These were the people that had once loved her.
It amazed her what fear would do to a people.
Perhaps the Infi had infiltrated her streets more than she’d previously thought.
When Bard was done mutilating Draven’s hair, he spoke into the crowd, asking it for a number of lashes to be given.
Aydra barely heard the words. Draven finally looked up and met her gaze, and he shook his head.
She hoped Balandria was not there to witness it.
The people decided on fifteen lashes for Draven. His agony filled the air with each slash and break of the skin on his back, his shirt ripping from his chest. And when they were done, it was she that was suddenly brought back to her feet, her arms latched to the chain above her head.
Bard spoke words that she didn’t hear. She couldn’t take her eyes off Draven’s figure, his stomach lying on the wood as blood poured from the lashings on his back. She heard the crowd cheer, and then saw Bard walk down front, his arm wrapping around a child’s shoulders as he handed the boy a small rock.
It was the first stone to strike her.
Aydra shut her eyes, trying to shut out the pain of the small rocks that hit her flesh from then on. The sun’s warmth shrouded her face. The crows sat on the buildings all around her. Her cheeks stiffened with dried tears.
This was the sun she would die beneath upon its setting.
The stones were nothing to the flames she knew would lick her flesh later.
Aydra didn’t remember being moved off the pole. She wasn’t in the dungeon. She was alone in the Throne Room, only the drip of the water falling over the edge being the noise in her ears.
Tied to Arbina’s tree.
Her arms were above her and a rope was strapped around her middle.
And Arbina was sitting on the steps.
The cold wind of the sunset wrapped through the open columns of the room. Aydra looked out at the ocean, memorizing her final sunset. Orange streaks littered the ocean, blues and purples cascading over the wave-like clouds above them. The teal serenity of the ocean was stark against the pinks, and she sighed her head back against the tree.
Arbina’s fingertips touched the water as she gazed down at her own reflection. “You could easily get out of this,” Arbina said.
Aydra barely had the strength to speak to her. “Go away, mother,” she managed.
Arbina’s head tilted as she laid her hands across her knees. “You would die for him? Even though his death is inevitable?”
Aydra swallowed hard. “I will die for every Queen to have ever sat on that throne. I die so that my sister does not suffer the fate I was forced to live with. I die to show the true cowardice of this Age.” The pain of her body tore through her, but she pushed it out of mind.
“Tell me mother,” she forced herself to say. “How long have you been whispering thoughts in my brother’s ears?”
Arbina stood, her arms wrapping around her as her defiant gaze met Aydra’s. “Since you decided to become the kingdom’s executioner.”
Aydra’s heart shattered, and she felt her body begin to tremble. “I should have let them freeze you,” she hissed.
A small smile rose on Arbina’s lips. “My daughter… you should know freezing would not take to my poisoned waters.”
The swell of what Draven had told her the night before filled her with a strength that made her smile. A quiet chuckle emitted from her lips, and Arbina’s weight shifted.
“What?” Arbina asked.
Aydra’s gaze met hers, and she smiled. “I wish I was going to be here to watch you burn.”
Arbina’s eyes blazed, but as she opened her mouth to speak, the doors at the back of the room opened, and a throng of Belwarks entered.
