Nothing except me, her only daughter. I bite my lip to keep my thoughts to myself. Even if I got down on my knees and begged Lord Rayid to spare me this fate, he would do nothing. If anything, he’d have me dragged out to the Rock of Sacrifice immediately so I wouldn’t ruin the feast for everyone else.
“Just have faith.” Lord Rayid pats my hand absently.
Kanelden snorts again but says nothing.
I eye the food in front of me. It’s the most sumptuous meal I’ve ever seen, roast meat and vegetables falling over each other with a buttery roll to the side. A goblet full of wine sits next to the overflowing plate. Saliva pools in my mouth, my stomach threatening to upend what little contents it already has. I don’t touch the food. Instead, I look around, noting the drunken faces and the celebratory shouts. The musicians playing up-tempo tunes and the maids dancing as the men watch.
It’s quite festive for a funeral.
My mother isn’t here—not that I thought she would be. We’ve never been invited into the palace walls, much less inside the Grand Chamber. This hall is reserved for the nobles, and only the nobles will watch my demise. Though they keep up their revelry, I catch furtive glances here and there. Eyes on me. Those who are wondering and waiting. Those who want to see me burned to ash by the DragonKin or eaten alive.
Before I can blink, Lord Rayid is raising his hands to quiet the crowd. “It is time.”
A tremor rolls through the room as the energy changes, going from frenetic to almost pensive. Bated breath. The inhalation before the plunge.
“To the Rock of Sacrifice!” he yells and turns to me, offering his arm.
I don’t want to take it, but I fear if I don’t, I might fall, my knees giving way. They shake as I walk, my breath becoming shallow as we pass through the Grand Chamber, the middle aisle clear for us as guards stand at attention, their polished armor gleaming in the candlelight.
Everyone watches me, their eyes hungry as they peer at my blood-red dress. Legend has it that this shade of red signifies sacrifice, that long ago, maidens worshipped the immortals and offered themselves clad in robes of deepest crimson.
“This is for the good of all.” Lord Rayid leads me up a spiral stair, the torches on the walls giving off dancing shadows in the chilly air. “You have to remember that, child.”
I have nothing to say to him, nothing that will make any difference.
He clears his throat. “And you must remember—we don’t know what happens to the sacrifices. Not for certain.”
He seems to have conveniently forgotten the reports of past sacrifices being dropped from great heights or the flurry of ash floating to the ground before the DragonKin even reaches the border. Though he’s correct that some sacrifices leave the mortal realm in one piece, at least presumably. They’re never seenagain. That thought puts a thick knot in my throat.I’ll never see my mother again. The pain is swifter than a kick to my stomach, my body shaking from the impact of it. Of course I knew I’d never get to see her again. But I didn’tfeelit—the full weight of it—until I take the last step onto the Widow’s Tower.
“Courage,” Lord Rayid says, his own voice slightly higher with fear.
The Widow’s Tower is ahead, the black stones circling a shiny obsidian rock that’s twenty feet high and perhaps three wide. Shackles hang about six feet up, the wind trying to move them but failing. Instead, it whips past me, the cold cutting to the bone as a slight flurry of snow begins to drift over the castle. Far below, Raingreen is dark. Not a single torch or fire lights the night, the townspeople afraid to draw the DragonKin’s attention.
The ramparts on either side of the tower crawl with activity. The nobles are clamoring onto them, their gazes on me as they wrap themselves in their great cloaks and huddle against the cold.
My skin pebbles, my cheeks already stinging as Lord Rayid pulls me inexorably toward the Rock of Sacrifice, toward the shackles embedded in the stone. The thin dress does nothing to shield me from the cold, and I shiver, my feet slowing on the freezing stones as my body rebels.
“I can’t.” I try to pull away from him.
“You must.” He grips my arm, no longer pretending to be anything other than my executioner.
“Please, let me go.” I try again to get free, but a hand takes my other arm in a cruel grip.
“About time,” Lord Rayid snaps.
“I’m here, aren’t I?” Kanelden yanks me forward, my feet losing purchase as he drags me to the shaft of obsidian. He spins me and pins me to the stone with his forearm across my throat. “Wouldn’t miss it.” Kanelden grins, cruelty in the twist of his lips and the darkness of his eyes.
The rock is frigid at my back, my thin dress doing nothing to lessen the sting of the cold. But there’s still fire in me somewhere, because I glare into Kanelden’s laughing eyes.
“Cry. It’s always more fun when girls cry.” He presses his body against me as his father takes one of my wrists and wrenches it over my head, locking it into the shackle.
My nausea returns, my mouth watering as my stomach spasms.
Kanelden grabs my other hand and closes the shackle around my wrist, the metal holding me fast as the wind roars past, the snow swirling. “Almost midnight.” He looks down at me and puts his hand on my chest.
“Kanelden—” his father warns.
“I just wanted to feel it.” He presses his palm over my heart. “Beating so fast. Terrified.” He grins wider.
