“The Veil shall hold.” She muscled the hilt home. “Vasha.”
His body sagged, another thread severed, another soul claimed.
The people had not come to witness justice. They had come to see blood, to stoke their own rage. Ilys barely had time to sheathe her blade before she heard a woman’s voice, sharp and filled with loathing. “Fucking bitch.”
Spit, stocky and hot, slid down the fabric that separated her from the world.
A heartbeat later, someone rushed the scaffold.
The first blow knocked her off balance. The second drove her to her knees.
Hands tore at her cloak, wrenching her backward with such force that the fabric choked at her throat. Fingers clawed at her arms, ripping at the seams of her sleeves, nails raking over her skin like talons. Her head snapped to the side from a fist cracking against her jaw, the impact ringing through her skull. A boot slammed into her ribs. Pain exploded through her chest, white-hot, and her breath ripped from her lungs. Another blow, then another. Her knees buckled.
She lashed out—an elbow catching someone’s nose, a vicious kick sending another staggering back—but it felt like striking a wall.
The mob surged.
A hand wrenched her veil, twisting it tight, yanking her down. Her skull cracked against the stone. Stars burst in her vision. A knee drove into her back. A boot smashed into her thigh. She twisted, gasping, her fingers scrabbling against the blood-slicked ground as fists pummeled her sides. A hand wrapped around her wrist, twisting savagely, forcing her arm back at an unnatural angle.
The veil meant to sanctify her now choked her, reeking of blood and spit.
A heel ground into her ribs as the guards shouted, but they may as well have been miles away. The mob had her. The city had her.
Then the flames whimpered, swallowed up in a second. A wind swept through the square. The air froze in her lungs and a shadow darker than smoke drew itself from the scaffold’s edge, vast and endless, curling into the outline of a man.
Death stood before her, pressing a palm to her face.
Ilys surrendered to the darkness.
The world suffocated in as she came to: heat, cloth, breath. Her veil strangled her, each inhale a ragged negotiation. Blood, sweat, and predatory smoke clogged her senses. Pain lacerated her body, sharp and jagged, blooming in her ribs, her arms, her legs. Every inch of her throbbed, the echoes of fists and boots still reverberating like a war drum through her bones. She tried to move, but her limbs felt distant and unresponsive, a puppet with her strings cut.
A swollen eye cracked open.
Blurry figures swayed in her vision. No one touched her now, but they circled like scavengers, their voices a muddled hum.
A hand—not warm, not living—slipped between the veil and her lips. Fingers cold as river stone lifted the fabric just enough that air rushed in, sharp and biting, filling her starving lungs. She gasped, trembling, every breath a wound.
“Mine,” a voice claimed, close enough to shake her bones. A voice no man could carry.
His grip steadied her chin, forcing her gaze upward. “Not yet,” he said, quiet enough for only her to hear. His thumb brushed her throat where her pulse stuttered. “Breathe.”
The world gave way again to the cold press of his palm against her cheek, the faintest mockery of comfort.
And the echo of his claim, ringing through her chest like a vow.
Mine.
Ilys woke once more to a world tilted in blurry shapes, flickering candlelight, and the distant crackling of fire. Pain roared through her body, every limb heavy, every breath raw and strained. Her ribs ached in a deep, bruising throb beneath the layers of linen bandages wrapped around her. The fabric of her veil had been loosened, fresh air cooled her sweat-slickened skin.
A gentle touch ghosted over her forehead, smoothing away wet strands of hair.
“Ilys.” The voice was soft, familiar.
Rowenna.
Ilys blinked hard, dragging the room into focus. Rowenna knelt beside her, face pale with worry offering precise, clinical attention. As if she had decided Ilys would live, and made it true.
“You’re awake.” Rowenna breathed, relief softening her voice.
