Four heartbeats later, Obrann lifted his head. “Very well then,” he said, turning so his chin scraped his shoulder. “Executioner.”
My heart slammed into my ribs, and for once the curse didn’t just saunter forward but was demanded.
Fangs punched down, slicing my lip until blood traced hot down my chin. My palm curled over my dagger as my stare found only Obrann.
What the fuck are you doing?
Damn it. I really did need to strengthen those shields. My eyes flicked to Callum, his head barely shaking, a gesture small enough to look like nothing, but clear enough for me.
It’s under control, Verena. You trust me, don’t you?
Trust him? When Rook was being dragged across the stage like an animal to slaughter? I tried to rein it in, but how could I? Even if we saved him today, the damage was done. Obrann would know. Everyone would know. Rook would never be safe again.
The crowd roared as the guards shoved him down, his knees slamming into the boards. He thrashed, a throaty sound tearing from him.
Callum stepped forward, dropping his helmet with a thud, forcing his hand down on Rook’s arm, holding him there.
He expected me to sit idle. To watch. To kneel while they bled my friend across this stage.
Did he know me at all?
The village screamed for leniency, their pleas scraping against the square walls.
Obrann’s lip curled into disgust as he turned to face us. “Silence.”
The word reverberated, charting through us all, through our veins, rooting in our skulls,commanding.
And we obeyed. Every one of us. Not because we wanted to, but because the prince’s power wove manipulation into our being.
And now, so did Obrann. His voice shackled us. Bent us.
I fought it, every breath fumbling for air that wasn’t laced in lies. My eyes burned, hot tears welling as I tried to resist the chokehold on my mind.
It didn’t touch the curse. Nothing ever did.
“Now, that’s better, yes?” Obrann’s glee slicked across the podium, too obvious, too rehearsed. Perseus didn’t bother to hide his grin.
A broad man stepped forward, boots heavy on the boards, while Rook shook against his shackles.
His trembling made my chest seize.Please be for show. Please be performance. Please don’t let him be terrified.
I wanted to scream until my throat tore. To rip the silence apart so we would all remember Obrann’s grip wasn’t strength, it was theft. That was the flaw in being a siphon: you could steal, gorge on what wasn’t yours, but you had no mastery over it. No control.
“Ah, here we are.” Obrann turned, presenting the man at his side.
My blood stilled when I saw him. He was monstrous and dark. The same man who had winked at me from the crowd.
“My, my,” Obrann’s throat hitched, his words sticky with something close to lust. “You are quite spectacular.” His brows pinched inward. “We must find you a more fitting place after today. You would do wonders among my personal guard.”
The man inclined his head, menace in the motion, while he brushed a guard’s grip off Rook with a lazy twitch. Which left only Callum’s fingers clamping down on Rook’s arm as he guided him against the waiting block.
The crowd held itself taut, every chest locked, every throat sealed shut. Because we all knew. For a Fae, there were only two ways to be sure—
Rip out the heart. Or sever the head.
Obrann clapped, stepping back from the platform’s edge, letting his guards slide into place, not shielding him, but hovering close enough to catch the blow of it.
The man raised the axe, iron glinting in the light as Callum ripped the sack from Rook’s head—
