Freed from Gravity (Bound and Freed #2)

Chapter 50

Fifty

ALLETTE

There’s no need to wake me in the morning.

I didn’t sleep.

Instead, I spent the night remembering.

Perhaps it’s different when your life ends suddenly, but for me, knowing death would come for me in a few hours gave my memories time to run through my mind like a play on a stage.

Every time my eyes closed, I pictured a different scene from my life.

My mother and father teaching me to fly. How it felt to take that first leap from the balcony in our small tower, the prayer in my heart that my wings and the wind would catch me. The first damp kiss of the clouds on my cheeks.

Wynn, my friend and confidant. The way she would leave chocolates under my pillow when it was her turn to clean my room.

The day I met Senan in the market, his arrogance and the mischievous gleam in his starlit eyes.

The moment I realized I loved him.

The day he confessed his love for me.

All the times we met in secret, hiding from the world because they wouldn’t understand our connection.

The fateful night we traversed realms.

The morning I woke up alone, surrounded by fire.

The agony of my wings being stripped from my back.

The grief of losing Senan…the joy of finding him again.

The pining, the pain, the triumph that has accompanied me through every step of this journey.

The love he has shown me, unwavering and all-consuming. The type of love people dream of finding, I have discovered not once, but twice in my life.

So unlike the man who claimed to love me only to keep me for himself.

As I ruminated over the depth of Eason’s betrayal, I wanted to stab him all over again, only this time, I’d make sure he was dead.

As fate would have it, my former captor is the one who opens the door to the closet I’ve been locked in all night. The one who drags a pair of manacles from his belt and tightens them around my wrists, the sharp edges digging into my flesh as he leads me down a dawn-soaked hallway toward a set of arched double doors.

When the two men standing guard see us approaching, they haul the barriers aside, revealing a room thronged with faces I don’t recognize. Women and men dressed in finery, wearing their wealth around their necks and on their cuffs. Their whispers are like tiny razors, nicking my skin as I walk past.

Whore…

His downfall…

Her fault…

The more I try to ignore them, the harder they are to drown out, because not all of them are lies.

A stretch of silver carpet cuts through the room, leading to a dais where a single throne waits. Boris Vale sits atop a silver cushion with a gleaming crown of gold like a halo on his dark hair. To his right, the littlest prince sits on a golden stool, a gilded dagger at his waist and his small face wearing the same fierce expression as his oldest brother. To his left sits the reclusive Princess Consort, her face gaunt and eyes sunken like a living skeleton.

The most sinister of all is what waits on the balcony: A man wearing a black hood and mask, an axe resting on his thick shoulder.

The doors open once more, and two guards escort my prince into the room to a symphony of gasps and curses. The women flutter their fans and press tanned hands to their heaving chests. More than a few eyes swim with tears. The men seem to be wearing matching sneers.

Senan wears a clean shirt and a fresh pair of trousers, but when he walks, he does so with a limp. The chains on his wrists jangle as he continues forward, eyes scanning until they fall on me. His gaze sweeps down the same soiled uniform I wore to save him, his eyes narrowing into slits as they turn on the king.

Kyffin’s lower lip quivers as he watches his brother being led to where I wait.

I long to hold my love once more, but Eason steps between us, blocking my view.

A portly man dressed in black robes moves from the front of the crowd, a thick tome open in his hands. Counsellor Windell. Philip’s father. “My king, I present to you the accused, Lady Allette Rittey, and Prince Senan Vale.”

The king inclines his head toward the older man, his expression almost bored, as if being woken at such an ungodly hour is an inconvenience instead of his own doing.

Counsellor Windell twists toward me, looking on through dull brown eyes. “Lady Allette Rittey, you stand charged with the murder of Darius Porter, a member of the king’s royal guards. How do you plead?”

How do I plead? He cannot be serious. “Not guilty.”

The murmuring begins anew, laced with snorts of derision and scoffing. You’d swear from the crowd’s reactions that they had witnessed the bloody crime themselves.

Counsellor Windell shifts his weight from one foot to the other, his thin lips pressing flat. “You’re saying that you did not kill the man?”

“I’m saying it was not murder, but self-defense.”

The way his lips twist makes my stomach sink lower. “So you did kill him?”

This isn’t a trial; it’s a charade.

No one in this room is interested in justice; they’re here for a spectacle. For the bloody gossip.

I straighten my spine, standing to my full height and lifting my chin. They’re going to execute me either way—the king will make sure of it—but I refuse to cower.

“Darius Porter punched me in the face, dragged me into the launderette, and threatened to rape me and slit my throat. So, to answer your question, yes. I killed him.” And I’d do it again if I had to.

The crowd goes so silent, if I were to close my eyes, I could almost convince myself I was completely alone in this cavernous room.

Counsellor Windell twists toward the king. Even though I already know my fate, I still find myself holding my breath, hoping for a miracle.

The king sits up straighter, his bejeweled fingers tapping against the throne’s gilded arm. “In this, the law is clear: An attack on one of the king’s guards is considered an attack on the crown itself. You are hereby sentenced to death by beheading. May the gods have mercy on your soul.”

A feral growl erupts from Senan’s throat. He launches himself toward me, but Eason catches his chain, holding him still as he struggles. “You bastard,” he bellows. “She was only defending herself!”

The king’s knuckles go white where he grips his throne. “And was it self-defense when she stabbed Sergeant Bell?”

“He held her captive in the human realm for over four years?—”

“I saved her,” Bell snarls. “And she still tried to kill me.”

He’s right. I did the things they’re accusing me of and am about to face the unjust consequences of my actions. But in fighting for me, Senan is only making this worse on himself.

I step forward. Eason’s hand snaps out, catching my chains, but I’ve made it far enough to see the devastation painting Senan’s crushed features. “It’s all right. Everything is going to be all right.”

His head shakes, his eyes glittering like a lake in the moonlight. “No…”

Counsellor Windell steps in front of Senan, keeping back far enough in case my prince fights again. “Prince Senan Vale, you are charged with orchestrating the kidnapping of Princess Leeri of Nimbiss, resulting in the abduction of your youngest brother, Prince Kyffin Vale. How do you plead?”

Kyffin sucks in a breath, his hands flying to his mouth, his eyes wide as saucers.

With tears streaming down his face, Senan raises his head, eyes narrowed on the king. “Not guilty.”

“Do you have any evidence to prove your innocence?” the man asks.

“Sergeant Eason Bell and I met at the Nag’s Head on the night in question, and afterward, the king exiled me to the human realm. Both of them can attest that I was not with the princess on either occasion.”

The king chuckles, but there is nothing mirthful about the sound as he stretches a hand to pat his littlest brother’s knee. “A fanciful story.”

“Fanciful?” Senan tears open the front of his shirt; buttons fly across the room, landing with sharp pings on the marble. He shrugs out of the garment, and the crowd gasps when they see what remains of his beautiful wings. “Do you think I did this to myself?”

Counsellor Windell’s eyes widen as he gawks at Senan’s back. “Is this true, Sergeant Bell?”

Eason’s jaw works, his gaze flicking toward the king. “I did meet with the prince that night.”

The king sits forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, his hands flexing into fists. “That’s not to say he didn’t orchestrate Princess Leeri’s kidnapping. My brother was the last person to see the princess before Carew abducted her. We have reached out to the princess, and she confirmed his involvement.”

That’s a lie.

Senan jabs a finger at the king, his chains swinging. “You’re a fucking liar.”

The crowd watches, mouths agape and whispers building to a crescendo.

“How about your kidnapping of a member of the Scathian nobility? Am I lying about that, Lord Windell?”

Windell steps from the crowd, bowing his head in deference to our terrible king. “No, sire. Prince Senan knocked me out and kept me in a cavern in the burrows for days.”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

The king rises to his feet. “In light of the evidence, I have found Prince Senan Vale guilty. The punishment for such crimes is death.”

Kyffin launches to his feet, the stool clattering to the ground. “No!” He races down the stairs toward Senan, dodging the guards who try to catch him. He throws his arms around Senan’s legs, his small shoulders wracked with sobs. “You can’t kill him!”

Dropping to his knees, Senan pushes the little boy’s hair back from his tear-drenched cheeks. “It’ll be all right, Kyff.”

“No. No, it won’t. Boris promised to keep you safe. He promised. You said he was a liar, but I didn’t believe you.” He hugs Senan’s neck, burying his face in his brother’s shoulder. “This is all my fault. I should’ve let her save you, but I didn’t want her to take you away from me.”

“This is not your fault.”

“I won’t let them hurt you. I won’t.”

Senan holds him close, his cheek pressed to his brother’s hair, clutching Kyffin’s head against him. “And I’ll never forgive myself if something were to happen to you.”

Senan raises his gaze to his former guard as his hands slowly fall.

Eason takes Kyffin by the elbow, gently prying him away.

“No, Sen. No!” The little boy kicks and scratches. Eason’s grip does not falter as he leads Kyffin out of the room, his cries echoing through the stunned crowd.

Senan stands, his head hanging as he swipes at his eyes. When he finally finds my gaze, I fall into his arms, clinging to him one last time.

He presses a soft kiss to my temple, his lips trembling. “I am so sorry, Allette.”

“Even knowing how this ends, I still would’ve fallen in love with you.” My head falls against his chest, and I listen to his heart beating, strong and steady.

Beating for me.

“I love you, Senan Vale.”

“Not as much as I love you.”

“Guards,” the king commands. “Bring them to the executioner.”

I lace my fingers with Senan’s, gripping tightly. “I’m frightened.”

“There’s no need to be afraid. I’ll be waiting for you beyond the veil.”

“What if you cannot find me?”

“I will. That much I can promise you. In this world or any other, I will always find you.”

One of the guards pulls me away, his jaw set and eyes narrowed on Senan. I try to hold on, but there’s no use. Two more guards have taken my prince, escorting him toward the executioner.

I scream until my voice breaks, unable to do anything but watch him drift away, his head held high, shoulders proud, and nothing but love in his quicksilver eyes.