Page 10 of Blood of the Fairest

"Stop the damn execution," I command.

3

Verena

The sight in front of me is a grim one.

Three men in helmets and matching light grey livery—royal guards, I take it—are stationed around the edges of the platform. Another guard stands next to a pile of four headless bodies.

A horrible pull from the pit of my stomach tries to draw my attention to the ruby blood pooled around them, but I ignore it.

In the middle of the platform kneels a thin, light-haired teenage boy, his hands tied behind his back. His head is bowed over a thick wooden block dripping with more red. The air here is sharp with citrus, as if someone has been juicing fresh oranges.

Ew, ew, ew. Stop with the juice comparisons, I beg the queen's fucked-up brain.

Beside the kid stands a massive figure dressed all in black except for small cutouts over his hooded eyes. A fifth and final guard is trying to grab the handle of a huge double-edged axe from his gloved hands.

When the executioner sees me, he immediately drops to one knee, inclining his head.

"Your Majesty."

There's a note of wary confusion in his voice, like he's not sure why I'm here.

Everyone else heard how he addressed me. All five guards gawk for a moment at my never-before-seen face before they also drop into deep bows.

From this angle, the murmuring crowd can't see anything but the blanket-hooded back of my head. They still break into gasps of disbelief as they realize the bloody, muddied waif who was besmirching their flawless group aesthetic is actually their bitchy evil queen.

As the thirteenth death knell fades, I catch fragments of their whispers.

"All that blood…was the last time the queen left the castle?"

"…what I've heard, she spends all her time in bed with her Favored."

"…always treated the poor princess so cruelly…ask me, she deserves no better than those northern dogs..."

"Can you see her face? My aunt on the Privy Council says she's the most exquisite beauty, but…"

Ignoring all the whispering and shock, I take a measured step closer to the chopping block, still resisting the urge to look at the blood.

"Hey, bud. You okay? You should get up," I gently suggest to the poor kid who almost lost his head.

He looks up. My heart pinches at the tears on his face. He has blond eyebrows and pale eyelashes framing blue eyes that quickly darken with accusation and pure hatred.

"He…" His whisper breaks, and he swallows. His voice still quivers, but his glare is only getting stronger. "He'll kill you for this. He'll hunt you like any other monster."

"How dare you address Her Majesty, you filthy dog!" booms the guard who was trying to execute the boy himself. He doesn't look up from his deep bow. "I beg your grace, my queen. Since you have blessed us with your presence, we shall set up a seat for you to comfortably watch the final execution⁠—"

"Fuck that. You're not going to harm a single hair on this kid's head."

He flinches under my icy warning, falling silent.

That stirs up a lot more murmuring behind me. I ignore it as I reach toward the boy—but I yank my hand back when I realize it's the injured one.

Carefully, I help him get to his feet with the hand that isn't covered in my dried blood, just in case.

"Don't touch me," he snaps, recoiling so hard he nearly stumbles. "You fucking murderess!"

The guard shouts at him again for being disrespectful, but the boy's tears start anew when his gaze falls to the beheaded remains of…his family.