His gaze snaps to mine as if I’d screamed his name.
I watch his lips fall open and he begins to move toward me. Desperation is written on his face and it’s soul wrecking. He shoves at the people standing in his way as The Nightmare turns toward him with hatred forming on his sour face.
Only I don’t get to hear what he’s screaming. All I hear is the creak of wood as the panel beneath my feet falls away mixed with the sound of the rope pulling taut.
Chapter 11
Kassiel
“Get on with it, Kassiel.” Orlin glares at me, his lip pulled on one the corner as if he had snarled at me instead.
My free hand tightens and I imagine that my fingers are wrapped around his throat. “Gods I really wish he’d die.” The low whisper is practically growled out from my throat. Fuck, what if she heard?
She doesn’t look at me as I place the noose around her neck. It caresses her throat in ways that make me feel things that leave me far too confused. I did not expect that when I cinched the rope around the dainty column.
Her creamy skin consumes my thoughts, even now, as I stand here watching this perfect woman bear the weight of a rebellion that would have her perform the role of a martyr.
“Boo. Kassiel. I was hoping it would be a slower death for her, loosen it up friend!” Venom dripping from Rion’s words cause her expression to twist, her gaze hardens as her jaw sets.
He’s watching her, amusement darkening in his soulless eyes. “May the Goddess send you to Haldir where your soul will be frayed and torn to bits for the scavengers of the pit to feast upon.”
Unexpectedly she spits at the man, her eyes locked on him, unblinking. She’s ferocious, especially when chained. Only she would choose defiance in her last moments.
I release her quickly. If I stand here any longer I’m worried what I’ll reveal of myself. My shadows are already threatening to peel from my skin and hide her fromtheirview. Orlin and Rion mean to make her a play thing. I’ve seen how far they’ll allow their violence to go.
If Orlin witnesses me softening to her, he would move to harm her in more ways, even if she were dead. He’s already suspicious of me. When he learned that I’d convinced King Euron that a slow death, like hanging, would unsettle worse among The Hidden, Orlin immediately accused me of being weak. That I’d allowed her beauty to sway me.
He fought me until King Euron unleashed his usually well contained rage. Furniture was overturned and King Euron brought out his lashing whip and bore down on Orlin until everyone in the room was splattered by his blood. Orlin, of course, took it dutifully. He’d healed quickly due to our Nasc Gal bonding, but I could still feel the tension through our linked tether. He still blamed me for his punishment and the last thing I needed was him to realize thathe was right.
She had weakened me.
The morbid arousal of knowing I can never have her, mixed with this need to be near her confuses me, enrages me. I thought I’d gotten past whatever this is.
Her tear—filled eyes keep scanning the crowd causing my resolve to crumble little by little. She’s searching for salvation, a savior, one which she won’t find. Even if I had it in me to kill everyone in this crowd and run away with her, she’d never truly be free.
I can’t save her anymore than I can save myself.
Those pale sky eyes land on mine as tears slip down her rosy cheeks. I can see her breaking, her soul fracturing with realization. It kills me to know I can only stand here and make sure it’s a clean death followed by a respectable burial.
I won’t let anyone defile her body even after she’s gone. Rion’s pleasure surrounding the whole situation is sickening, and I can’t risk him taking her once her soul has departed.
Knowing the time is upon us, I force my lungs to inhale. Tampering the fire that rampages in my chest, I begin to address Alora.
“Alora Viren. You’re accused of helping the rebellion known as The Hidden, treason, and conspiracy to murder His Majesty the King. You’re accused of inciting unrest and planning to harm the kingdom of Noxia. These crimes are punishable by death.”
Her strength is breathtaking, even as she’s covered in tears and exhaustion.
A woman standing off to my side offers a small cry, clearly unhappy with the brutal scene unfolding.
With a swallow, I continue, “How do you plead to these crimes of which you are accused?”
I shouldn’t care at this moment. I’ve barely had a handful of words with the woman, but the pull of her spirit feels too familiar.
“Guilty.” She speaks the words plainly, not even giving herself a chance to reconsider. The spark in her eye ignites as she stares down at me and adds, “Gladly.”
Bold move, little warrior.She’s impressive. There’s no other way to describe the feral goddess in front of me.
My thoughts rage and war with themselves. The internal conflict makes me feel ashamed and lost. I’m not only betraying my king in these moments, again, but Eiliorah.
