Chapter 5 #2
Do I let them exterminate me like the scourge that they think I am?
I have been kept in the shadows for long enough, being treated like a piece of trash because of some unknown sin I committed against the gods.
I might be about to face my demise, but I will not let them see me cower despite how my knees tremble as we reach the back of the market.
Rolling my shoulders, I lift my head and attempt to walk beside the guards.
They see what I’m doing and continue to drag me, roughly knocking me off my feet so I’m skittering to find purchase.
Suddenly, I’m dropped from their hold and fall to the floor. Gasping at the impact, I quickly scrabble to my feet, spinning to watch as the guards step back, creating a barrier between me and the path back into the market.
Slowly, I examine the scene around me. The guards stand in a semi-circle, creating a space between them and the close market door.
The stocks are just out of view to the right and hope flares in me that perhaps that won’t be in my future after all.
Everyone seems to have gathered to watch, whether that’s because they were forced or their morbid curiosity needed to be stated, I don’t know.
The guards drag forward two figures dressed in black like I am. Widows.
They have gathered the widows together. I’m not surprised that there are only three of us here.
There aren’t many widows in Rune, and those who do exist try to avoid being out in public, only coming to the market when absolutely necessary.
These poor women are already ostracised for something they have no control over, and now I’ve dragged them into this mess.
Only their eyes are visible, but they look terrified, their body language showing how uncomfortable they are being stared at by so many people.
Hunched shoulders and arms clutching their middles, the perfect image of subservience.
Compare that to my defiant stance and it becomes clear who the odd one out is.
I should adopt the same position, try to blend in, but I can’t bring myself to do it when I know death is approaching.
Someone steps forward and I’m not surprised to see that it’s the guard I noticed earlier with the decorative patch on his uniform, the captain I realise now that I can see it up close.
He glares at the three of us like we are something that has crawled from the gutter.
We seem so small in the open space, the rest of the marketplace gathered up close behind the guards, pushing and straining to see what’s happening.
The captain walks before us, his boots kicking up dust, but it is not us that he’s looking at now, but the crowd.
“There is a witch among us,” he announces, voice ringing loudly.
Everyone gasps as he intended, and he pauses to allow their horrified whispers to spread.
He’s doing this on purpose, working up the crowd and spreading fear.
After all, we are easier to control if we think they are protecting us from evil.
The curious looks change to fear and anger, and I am grateful that I’m wearing a veil, their judgment stinging.
After all this time being sullied, it should not bother me any longer, but I have never been able to shake the shame they make me feel.
“Not only is she performing forbidden magic,” his voice rings clear once more, the market falling silent to hear our crimes.
“She is one of the sullied! Disguising herself as a widow and selling her poisonous lies to unsuspecting people right here under our noses.” Stalking along the length of the guards, he turns and paces back in the other direction.
“We knew she would return; she has a pattern. We have been watching the market for a while now. Today we have rounded up the widows in the market and are going to unmask them to find our witch.”
My stomach sinks. This wasn’t just a random sweep; this was planned based on a pattern I’ve been using.
I never realised. I worked so hard to switch up when I come to the market and lose guards on my trail, and it was all for nothing.
For so long I have managed to get away with my scheme that I must have let down my guard without realising it.
This, over everything else hurts the most. I failed.
“Stop.”
My heart takes flight in my chest, that voice making my hope soar so fast it makes me dizzy. Caleb, he has come to rescue me.
Guards step apart to let a figure clad in blinding white robes step through. His gaze scans over the two widows and stops when it lands on me. We might be dressed the same, our identities hidden, but my friend knows instantly which one is me.
Turning on the captain, his face is like thunder as he glares at the guard. “What is the meaning of this? Removing the veil of a widow is a crime.”
Faced with an angry follower of the gods, the captain has the good sense to look chagrined.
“Chosen one.” Dipping into a bow, the captain slowly returns to standing upright, gesturing toward where I stand with the other widows.
He appears apologetic, but not cowed by the presence of one of the gods chosen people.
“One of these women has committed a crime and the only way to discover the perpetrator is to remove the veils.”
The two men stand off against each other.
Caleb in his gleaming white clothes and white band shining on his arm, and the guard in his full red and silver uniform.
They are so different, one looking for peace, and the other for bloodshed.
My blood may soon cover the dusty ground beneath us, the colour so similar to the red of the guard’s uniform.
No, I can’t think that way. Caleb has the might of the gods behind him, the captain of the guard wouldn’t dare to go against him. He clearly thinks the same, his shoulders rolling back as he prepares to respond. “This is-”
“This is on order of the king.”
The captain cuts him off, his voice fairly neutral, but I can see the gleam in his eyes. He knows he’s won the argument. There is only one thing that trumps the gods chosen, and that is the royals.
Caleb’s mouth snaps shut. There is nothing he can do, not if this was an order that came directly from the king himself.
Jaw tense, he glances at me once before returning his attention to the captain.
He dips his head in a jerky nod and takes a step back, acknowledging that he won’t get in the way of the guards.
“Guards,” the captain snaps, creating a flurry of activity as three of his men break away and stand behind each of us.
My guard grabs my arms and yanks them behind my back, tightly binding my wrists together. I wince, but don’t make a noise, not wanting to give them the satisfaction. Pushing me forward, the guard leads me to a spot besides one of the other widows, lining us up.
A quite sob ignites something inside me. I look at the widow beside me, her head bowed and small shoulders shaking as she tries to hide her tears. Glancing over at the other woman I see her standing in much the same way.
This is shameful for them. Forced to wear veils that mark them as who they are, it also offers them protection, hiding their identity.
The guards are about to strip that from them.
Anger overpowers my fear and trepidation, this is cruel and from the look of the guards who watch on, they are enjoying the show.
Disgusting cowards, that is what they are. Finding amusement in causing a woman distress, one that is already suffering due to the rules that they enforce. My punishment is about to come, the least I can do is try and make this easier for them.
“Stop.” My voice croaks and I swallow the lump at the back of my throat, needing my words to be clear. “You don’t need to expose them. It is me.”
Everyone’s attention turns to me, including the two women beside me, surprise flashing in their eyes. Self-sacrifice isn’t something that is seen often around here, especially for the marginalised.
I’ve taken the captain back, his brows raised as he runs his eyes over me. For a moment, I think that it has worked and the others will be spared. His expression becomes shrewd and my hopes shatter.
“How do I know that they are not your accomplices? You could be trying to protect them.” Gesturing widely, he once more addresses those watching, building up the witch-hunt fever. “One of you was seen with another today, they could be standing right here.”
There is no talking him out of it, his mind is already made up but that spark that was ignited inside me won’t just sputter out and allow me to quietly stand down. No, I have to keep trying so I know I’ve done everything I could.
“I am telling you that it was me.” I allow some of that ire to seep into my voice as I glare up at him. “I am the one who committed the crime. Do not shame them any further than you already have.”
He stares at me and I see the truth of it in his eyes, he already knows the women beside me are innocent. All I am doing is just talking myself further into my guilt. Lifting his chin, he clears his throat to be heard. “Remove their veils.”
“You bastard,” I hiss, jerking forward only to be pulled back by the guard behind me.
From the corner of my eye I see Caleb stepping forward, attempting to stop the guards, but he’s too slow.
Black cloth hits the ground and noises of distress reach me from the two women.
Empathy hits me hard and it is as though their feelings are my own.
Their shame, fear and distress making my body react and I’m completely helpless to do anything of use.
The women try to cover their faces with their hands, blinking against the light which must seem blinding without their scarfs to protect their eyes.
However, no one pays attention to their appearance, but the bronze bands on their upper arms. Not the black of the sullied, but a regular widow just trying to live her life.
The captain stares at me, raising a brow as though he’s surprised by the turn of events. “Well, it seems you were telling the truth.” Reaching out, he rips away my headscarf and veil, tugging roughly and pulling at my hair in the process.
A quiet gasp of pain escapes my lips before I can stop it, and my masses of sunset pink hair spring free.
However, it’s my arm that burns more as everyone stares at the black band on my arm.
Whispers start up in the crowd, their combined voices loud and indistinct, except for one word that seems to stick out.
Sullied. Everyone knows of the pink haired sullied girl, in fact, I’ve become a bit of a legend among the Gutter, the type of story that’s told to children to get them to behave.
Here I am, standing before them all, accused of being a witch.
“I should kill you where you stand, sullied scum,” the captain snarls, closing the distance between us and shoving his face up to mine.
Pulling back his upper lips, his sour breath washes over me as he lets his dark little fantasies play out in his mind.
I’ve met men like him before, ones who revel in causing pain to women, and this one is even more dangerous because of his position of power.
“Oh how I want to string you up for everyone to see as we whip the evil out of you. That’s not happening today though…
” he trails off, expression hardening. “The king has other plans for you.”