We were escorted to the city center under armed guard, and to any watching the procession, the captain and I were decorated guests of honor. Surrounded by pomp, paraded through the throngs of Caledonians waiting to watch a man die.
Forusto kill him with our combined might.
Whispers of unusual power haunted our every step. Words spoken behind cupped palms, we were watched by many hundreds of dark eyes glittering with the sort of savagery I’d never seen in the wilds. Never even knew existed until I’d come to this place, forced to live beneath the citizens who flocked to war, drooling for the spectacle.
When we reached our destination, it was to find the city center dressed up in twinkling lights. In the heart of a crowd thick enough to boast standing room only, a dais had been erected.
Framed by dark drapery, brightened by tiny twinkling lights, and flanked on all sides by yet more soldiers, it was an alter to the night. A spectacle shrouded in mystery and undeniable beauty.
On the far side, a raised platform complete with comfortable open tents and flapping, royal insignias—one I recognized from the summons.
As one unit, our escort stopped before a set of stairs. Three little steps that would elevate us before throngs of Caledonian citizens.
Where we would die on a pedestal, consuming each other.
I swallowed the nerves, squeezed Asher’s bicep, and whispered, “Give me a name.”
Inky eyes flicked down, one brow raised in question.
“Use me,” I said, hardly daring to move my lips. “Unless you have a better plan. I don’t want to die dressed like this.”
He snorted. Jaw tight, eyes forward, and ascended without a word. Without offering so much as a hint of his plan—if one existed at all.
The general’s men fell into step behind us. Reese and Aiden, weapons cocked, looking for all the spectators as if they were chaperoning someone of grave importance. As if they weren’t there as a silent reminder of what was to happen this night. The price of my reckless temper a debt to be paid in blood.
And there, standing in a gentle breeze, the Head Priestess waited. Stately. Elegant. A swirl of dark silks and effortless posture, she watched the crowd without a hint of trepidation. Her face the very picture of serenity. Hands folded neatly before her. She was ringed by four elites.
As if they stood there to protect her.
Fromme.
Muscles seizing in uncontrollable shivers I balked, leaving Asher to all but drag me to her side. Grim determination set in every hard line he possessed.
A horn blared in the distance.
Signaling soldiers to flood through the crowd, to clear a generous path directly before us—a path prepared for the sort of destruction they expected Asher to display as he killed us both.
Sweat dropped down my nape. Gathering on my brow with the weight of the onlookers, the volume of their excited chatter a deafening roar that left me swaying. Dizzy and sick.
And so,soempty.
So hungry…
“Asher,” I whispered, eyes darting from face to face. Seeing nothing. “Please.”
But still, he made no move to react.
Merely guided me forward. Passing the Head Priestess and her guards without a word or a glance, he arranged me a half-step ahead of her. Left me to wait in his shadow.
Out of reach.
Two more blasts of the horn nearly saw me bolt from the stage.
One heavy, rough hand landed on my shoulder. Pinning me in place. “Easy, priestess,” Reese growled from my right. And on my left, his counterpart. Aiden. Completing the ring of elite soldiers with an even six, they stood close enough that I might feel body heat and take it for the warning it was meant to be.
Breath hitching, I managed a tight nod and fought the flood of frustrated tears that threatened to humiliate me in these last moments.
They might have my life, my power, and my body, but they could only have me if I allowed it.
