“Do you know how to shoot one?”
The harsh cut of his voice spurs the storm in my stomach, and I look up into his uncomfortably earnest eyes. My gaze flicks to a big metal bowl set on a stone pedestal beside me, brimming with flaming oil, then to the arrows and their fluffy, flammable tips.
The heavy weight of dread fills me, shoving the air from my lungs and leaving little room for me to breathe.
“I—”
Fuck.
I give him a tight nod, and a pleased smile grazes his lips. He checks the ties at each end of the bow caught in my white-knuckled fist.
Barely seeing them, I scan the crush of people pouring into the square while the tempest churning inside me devastates my nerves and threatens to power up my throat. Fissures weave across my crystal domes, releasing wispy tendrils of tangled emotion that crawl up the sides of my chest.
“I can’t—”
“Don’t worry,” Cainon coos. “Nobody will dare snicker if you miss.”
“No, I mean Ican’tdo this, Cainon.” I shove the bow at him, letting go. It wobbles for a bit before he snatches it, slashing a glance across the crowd. “I can’t—won’tlight that pyre.”
He pours over me like a menacing statue, making the space feel too small.
Too cramped.
My heart labors as he leans in, the tips of his fingers brushing my cheek with his too-hot touch, his anger a violent swell lashing me in waves. “Ismelledyou on him, you know.” The words blow up my heart rate, scaling my skin like thistles. “Smelled the remnants of Vanth’s …desirelocked within the fibers of his clothing after he was detained for almost murdering you.”
“I don’t understand what you’re saying …”
Silence stretches, his brows knitting together as he looks down at me with a crushing sort of finality. “They need to see that you’remine.They don’ttouchwhat’s mine, Orlaith. Not unless they want to die.” Again, his fingers skim my cheek, traverse my lips. “And if you don’t take the first shot, you’ll be seen aswelcominghis crude attention. And perhaps you were. How do I know you weren’tbegginghim to fuck you?”
My breath flees. “I— Iwasn’t—”
His eyes harden like flints, a darkness toiling within their depths. “Proveit,” he bites out, wrapping my fingers around the bow, those two words stoning me over and over … shackling me to this nightmare.
This hell.
I swallow a surge of violent words, and my heart bolts as he cups my cheek, tips my head, and shifts my hair, gaze darting to that ravaged spot on my neck. Cainon rumbles, pummeling me with brutal, bloody promises.
Prove it …
I want to stretch out those words and twist them into a twine to tighten around his throat. Watch his eyes bulge as he begs me for mercy—
A bell tolls, ringing out across the crowd, snapping me from my violent reverie. Cainon drops his hand but remains close, his body a scouring heat against mine as we turn our attention to the pyre.
A squire climbs onto its base, dressed in a blue tunic, stockings, and a leather belt. He has a feather in his hat that flits in the hot, humid breeze.
He unrolls a white scroll, then begins to read aloud, his baritone easily carried across the hushed crowd. “Vanth Augustine, Second of His Name, has been convicted of grievous crimes against the High Master’s promised.”
“Remember, you’re only sparking the match,” Cainon murmurs into my ear, and it’s a battle not to squirm away from his barbed breath. “It will mean so much to me.”
My legs threaten to buckle, and I’m forced to lean against the balustrade.
“For his misdeeds,” the squire continues, “he has been sentenced to death by fire! Shunned in life, so too shall he be shunned in death.”
“Shunned in death!”The crowd roars the words to the haunting beat of drums.“Shunned in death!”
I don’t want to be here, drawing on the smell of sweat and fear, watching a crowd jeer for blood. I want to be in my rose garden, dragging my fingers across flushes of bold blooms, admiring their depth of color.
“Shunned in death!”
