But this time, I thought he was going to be here.
I thought he was going to come.
Where are you?
I’m strong. I’ve come a long way with my magic and my control. With my emotions and thoughts. Even my physical body has gotten stronger with the intermittent training. Yet none of that is going to help me break out of this enclosure.
I need help this time.
And I don’t have it.
I don’t know where he is or why he hasn’t come, but whatever it is must be something terrible, because I know without a doubt, he’d do anything in his power to be here. To track me down and save me. Yet he isn’t here, so I can only think the worst.
Something happened to him.
Did Queen Kaila have a hand in this? Did they do something to Slade? They had to have, or he would’ve come already. He wouldn’t have let them even take me out of Fourth Kingdom in the first place.
This realization sinks in like a boulder crashing into an ocean. It bottoms out, leaving the ground beneath my feet to shake, silt lifted up to muddy my vision.
“The Conflux execution must be carried out at once.”
My eyes rock to the king.
“You have been judged culpable for your crimes in killing King Midas and stealing not one power but two.”
“I didn’t steal anything!” I scream out. “Gold-touch ismine.”
No one believes me. No one even hears me. I search the other monarchs, but they look at me as if I’m a leech they need to burn, like they don’t want me anywhere near them in case I steal their magic, too. The spectators in the square don’t hold any sympathy for me either, their expressions pure hate.
To them, I’m nothing but a lying, murdering, thieving saddle who deserves this judgment.
“Please!”
My hands grip the poles again, wet with a gold that won’t harden. The puddle at my feet is so much deeper now, reaching the middle of my shins. Black, liquid roots slink in its depths, the tipped ends stretching toward all sides of the enclosure as if they’re trying to dig their way out but can’t.
I can’t get out.
Can’t control my magic.
My back is barren.
And he’s not coming.
My soundless sob is what breaks through the haze of my mind, snapping me back into full awareness. Without the buffer of my mental shield, I’m clutched in the chaos of my own condemnation.
The monarchs are all standing now, and there are guards surrounding my enclosure. Guards I didn’t even notice approach. They wear no armor, but their uniforms are starch-white with belts of gray to hold the sins of their blades.
“Arm!” King Merewen orders.
Every single guard pulls out his sword. There are six of them in total—three in front of me, three in back, surrounding my small circle.
It seems like some sort of cruel irony for there to be six.
“Please!” I scream again, but no one cares to hear my plea.
My heart pounds like it’s trying to break a hole through my chest and escape, but no part of me is leaving this enclosure.
Is this truly it? After everything. After fuckingeverything, is this my end? Condemned to death because ofMidas?
