2. Esmira #2
He turned around, the mask of a shrewd king hardening his expression.
“I’m aware you made your way to the Night Market.
Such reveries are for the common people, not for you.
I trust you will hold yourself to a higher standard in the future.
If you wish to be given more responsibility, you must show you are worthy of it. ”
I felt lightheaded with frustration. There was nothing my father did not see, nothing he did not know. “Understood, father.”
“You will have new clothes made, and study the histories of the southern lands, that you might be useful there. You have three weeks. Do your best to delight the future king. If he is pleased with you, your life there will be easier.”
Marriage. The idea of it hadn’t sunk in yet. I opened my mouth to respond when a light tapping came at the door.
My father held up his hand, indicating for me to stay seated. “Come!” he barked.
The door swung open, revealing a man no taller than my father, but with thick, corded muscles, a flat nose, deep-set eyes so dark they were almost black, and a pinkish scar across one cheek. The Captain of the Venators.
He was a ruthless man, quick with a knife.
I’d always feared him because of the stories of what he and his men had done.
Rumor held that the scar on his face was given to him by a woman accused of Mirror Magic.
Apparently she’d fought like a wild beast, but the men boasted about how she’d paid for her actions with blood and broken bones.
Now as the Captain’s black eyes roved over me, I wondered if he could see my hands glowing through the thin material of my dress. A lump swelled in my throat, and I refocused my gaze on his black boots which were clean and shiny, as though he hadn’t just returned from a trip to the Boundary.
“The prisoner is ready,” he announced.
“Very good. Have the bells rung, we will join you shortly.”
The bells? My gaze went to my father and then to the Captain of the Venators.
He was still looking at me. I frowned, skin crawling with the way he stared at me.
As I’d fully developed into a young woman, I began to notice the different kinds of stares men gave me.
Some were lustful, others full of longing or jealousy.
The way the Captain of the Venators stared at me was full of something else, dark and violent. Hate.
After a beat, he nodded. “It shall be done.”
He left without another word, without bowing either or addressing my father with the respect his station demanded. Had there been tension between them? Or had I imagined it?
My father held out his hand. “You will join me for the execution.”
My mouth went dry.
“Perhaps I have been too gentle with you.”
I rose to my feet, one hand fisted, the other I slipped into the crook of his arm, hoping the slight glow was not visible beyond his voluminous sleeves.
As we left his chambers, the bells tolled, summoning everyone who could hear them to make their way to the plaza.
It was located outside the palace in full view of all who lived nearby.
By law, all were required to stop what they were doing and attend when the bell rang.
My breath came fast and shallow. I fought to keep my body under control as we left the palace, taking the bridge to the tower that overlooked the execution plaza.
A crowd had already arrived and there on a platform stood the woman, hands tied above her head, eyes blindfolded.
From a distance, it was difficult to tell how old she might be, yet from the brown stains on her clothing, I sensed she’d been treated badly.
Bile rose in my stomach. I turned to my father, intending to beg to leave, until I saw the coldness of his gaze. He fixed his hard eyes on me. “You see, Esmira, it is not always easy to rule. One must be cold, ruthless. One wrong decision, one act of mercy, could cause countless to suffer.”
The Captain of the Venator’s voice boomed across the gathering, listing the name of the woman and her sins, but my father kept talking, telling me the story in his own words.
“She was found practicing the art of Mirror Magic. She lived in a cave with a collection of mirrors and each day she’d light a flame and practice her magic, chanting forbidden spells, asking the mirrors to release the Wicked Prince.
The very same Wicked Prince who brought famine and death to our world, who unleashed monsters and other horrors on us.
Can you imagine what we’d face if he were to return?
So tell me, daughter of mine, in your eyes I see fear and anger.
I see your desire to run, to hide from justice.
But tell me this, if you were queen this day and you ruled, what would be your verdict? One death? Or the death of a thousand?”
I pressed my lips together, knowing the answer which would make him proud and yet . . . “How would I know she was evil? How would I know she practiced the art?”
“You would know because your men told you, you would know because you saw it with your own eyes, yet even if you didn’t, you would need to pass judgment.
What would your judgment be? Look at the prisoner.
Decide her fate. One death or a thousand?
Blood will always be on your hands. You determine how much. Decide.”
A hoarse whisper left my lips. “The knives.”
My father lifted his hand.
Silence blanketed the plaza. The Captain of the Venators also lifted his hand, then dropped it.
Knives shot out of the air, twirling towards the woman. One by one, they sliced through skin, sinking into bone and marrow. A keening cry came from her lips, the wail of the dead, a torment of pain.
“Again!” boomed the Captain.
This time, I heard the blades slice through the air, the smack of steel against flesh. Even without looking, I knew the moment the woman was dead, when her screams of pain were replaced with cheers from the crowd.
I spun away from my father, fury rushing over me, but he caught me by the waist. “This is why you are going to the southern lands, this is why you are a bride, not a commander. You do not have the stomach to do what needs to be done to keep the peace. There is no mercy for those with Mirror Magic. They all must die by the blade.”