Overhead, a cinderhawk shrieked. It circled once. Again.
The wind rose higher, whipping cloaks and skirts, creating confusion as guards called out commands, struggling to maintain order.
Hestepped from the crowd, his cloak flaring out with the wind. The light hit his profile and slid off like oil.
“This isn’t justice,” he said, his tone calm yet cutting. “It’s theater soaked in blood.”
The crowd stiffened. A wave of tension rolled through them, like frost etching across glass. I felt it down to my bones.
Guards tightened their grips on their sheathed swords. One hint of an uproar, and they’d do what was needed to contain the crowd.
The man lifted his chin, defiance blazing in his eyes.
The cinderhawk dove low over the crowd, and they cried out and ducked when it shrieked again. It launched itself toward the clouds.
A guard standing beside me lunged toward the man.
I slid my foot into his path, as casual as a twitch. The guard stumbled and fell off the platform, hitting the ground hard, skidding across the gravel-covered cobblestones. Wine sloshed and a few of the condemned yelped.
I leaped off the platform, crying out. Drawing attention my way.
Another guard ran to help the fallen one. As I tangled my foot with his, time seemed to slow.
I knew what failure meant. Not just for the woman, but for me. Father had executed entire families for less. But in that momentbetween action and consequence, I felt more like myself than I had in years. Fear and courage weren’t opposites. True courage was feeling the fear and acting anyway. Today, I chose courage.
The second guard stumbled into a servant carrying cups, and the tray went flying. The crash sent people scattering, and in the furor, I caught the pregnant woman’s eye and jerked my head toward the crowd’s edge.
She understood, slipping between two arguing elders and vanishing into the press of bodies. If she was wise, she’d gather her things and flee the town.
That was seven now.SevenI’d saved. Each rescue was a gamble with lives. Not just my own, but anyone connected to the escaped.
Still, if mercy meant saving even one, I wouldn’t stop. What was the point of my position if I didn’t use it to save even a few?
I scooped up the woman’s cup, keeping it low by my side. The taste of copper filled my mouth. I’d bitten my tongue.
Father’s eyes found mine across the platform, narrowing with suspicion. He wasn’t a fool. When I’d helped the man slip away during a similar uproar, he’d had the man’s family questioned. Three died in the dungeons before he was satisfied no conspiracy existed.
I’d learned then that every person I saved could condemn others unless I was exceedingly careful.
And now I’d painted another target on my back.
Forcing my breathing to steady, I crouched beside the guard, latching onto his arm to help him up. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what happened.”
By the time he’d regained his footing, the woman had vanished, and the man and the cinderhawk were gone too. People looked upward, some pointing at the clouds, a few asking what this could mean.
“Enough,” Father bellowed, his illusion of control cracking. “Guards, make sure no one enters or leaves until this ceremony is complete.”
Elders adjusted their robes. One went around, ensuring every one of the condemned had full cups.
The wind bit colder than before but no one appeared to notice the woman was missing.
The ceremony continued.
Some said magic was chaos made flesh. That if it wasn’t bled from our people, it would fester. I used to think that was just another tale whispered by tired elders, until a young woman evaded detection and went mad. She was twenty-six when she broke, exactly my age now. The healers said she’d shown no signs of instability until the final day, when neighbors found her talking to herself and weeping over invisible corpses. By sunset, her unleashed magic had burned through seven homes, leaving those who’d lived there stranded.
And that was why we still held the Day of Mercy.
At my father’s command, the first man stepped forward, holding his mug aloft. Old, his lined face appeared serene. I cringed but he drank without trembling, and an elder murmured a blessing as she collected his cup. The old man staggered. Tumbled to the ground. He did not rise again.
