47
The gallows were white-painted wood with the symbols of They, She, and He, painted in lavender on both the beam holding the nooses and on the stone below. The executioner’s square was at the lowest point of the palace, closest to the city center but not a necessary thoroughfare to cross the boundary between royals and citizens. There was a separate courtyard for that. For the hangings was a designated square of gray, making the white and purple of the platform even more contrasting.
Valine was dressed in gray beside Malik, her magic already tethered to Pandora. She could feel the woman approaching already, following behind Healer Das and the guards. On the platform was the priest, who waited solemnly in starched linen and a sash of violet. He was the only one not obligated to wear the mourning shade because he was the only connection greater than the royals to the Stygian Ones.
Malik had his hands crossed reverently before him, Sarim and Freyja nearby echoing the same sentiment while Alastair comforted Jacira nearby. Amaris was directly on Valine’s other side. She wore a veil of gray, but beneath it she could see the stone of her face and the tears that silently flowed from her eyes. She took no pleasure in this, but she was now a sole ruling queen and it was her duty.
Before she’d retired to Malik, she’d stopped to see Hanish, filling him in on her plan to rescue a post-mortem, soon-to-be reanimated Pandora and that she would require him to ensure she had an opening to do so. Hanish agreed, though he did so with a sour twist of his lips. She had made him do so much for her in such a short timeframe.
Pandora was approaching quickly—she could sense the tether drawing shorter. When she and the head healer appeared there was silence. There was no throwing of rotten vegetables like there would have been in Runell, there were no tossed curses like there would have been in Adraali, there was simple shunning silence. The two were meant to meet the grave in silence and banishment, forever ostracized in the eyes of the gods. That was their way, that was their final “fuck you” into the afterlife.
Pandora and Das ascended the staircase, writ with condemnation from the gods, the nooses swaying ominously in the silence. The air was thick with tension and scented with fear and anticipation, there was the sour scent of sweat carried on the ocean breeze that did little to mitigate the temperature. It was only just approaching noon and already the sun was at its zenith, bearing down with oppressive heat.
The corpse rot would be wretched in the hot day.
Despite the fact that Pandora knew Valine would rescue her, the woman had tears coursing down her face, dripping on her gray linen shift in dark circles. Das was struggling against the guard that had him, his bound hands thrashing wildly as he stared hate directly at Valine. She kept a placid expression. The guards framed the platform in orderly lines, ensuring that the convicted could not leave their posts.
As Pandora and Das were guided to their spots below the ropes, the priest came around behind them and looped the nooses around their necks. Valine ensured that the tether was firmly in place and braced herself for the oncoming death. When she was not the one delivering it, she felt its blow. It wasn’t enough to hurt, but it was enough to knock the breath from her if she was not prepared.
The ropes were around their necks, and Pandora kept her freshly washed face impassive, staring blankly at the crowd without emotion. Valine could only imagine it was a sense of self preservation. Surely inside, she was screaming. Das was still trying to curse Valine out, spitting guttural sounds uselessly, his old bones already giving up on him.
From behind them the priest declared their crimes.
Murder.
Treason.
Extortion.
Theft.
Conspiracy.
“May the Stygian Ones take your souls,” the priest commanded.
Pandora met Valine’s eyes with conviction. Valine nodded once. Pandora closed her eyes.
Then the floors dropped out from under them.
Valine felt Pandora’s neck snap as soon as the rope went taut. She did not struggle. Valine inhaled sharply at the sensation as watchers gasped around them. Hands covered mouths and quiet sounds of retching could be heard over sobs. Valine felt Pandora’s life hanging on by the thread she held and silently, she slid her fingers over each digit, knotting Pandora’s flickering life to her magic.
Healer Das was not as lucky as the gently swaying corpse beside him. His neck did not snap—not fully—so he was forced to gurgle and struggle as his face bloated and turned purple. His tongue swelled in his mouth; his eyes bloodshot. It was another few seconds and his bladder emptied onto the lavender moon etchings. It was several breaths and he finally breathed his last. It was moments and it was done.
Jacira let out an ugly sob, collapsing into Alastair’s arms, crying desperately, heaving great breaths that she struggled to regulate. Her face was a blotchy mess, snot and tears mingling on her face. Alastair was the only thing keeping her afloat. She was in a sea of desolation and despair, and the careful manipulator was her life raft.
Amaris did not react either way. Valine could see her face unchanged beneath the veil, though tears continued to slide uselessly down her marble cheeks. She nodded once and swept from the gallows courtyard, her guards circling her immediately.
Valine stared at the execution site, watching Pandora’s lovely face bloat and turn gray and swollen, purpling with ugliness. She hoped she’d saved Pandora some modesty by supplying her with the menstrual products; she could smell shit in the air already, suspicious brown sliding down Das’s legs.
Before she turned to go, she saw Cersei across the crowd, staring at her directly. Her lionesses gaze was hard, resolute, dangerous. She was holding Valine with a look she could not decipher, but it made her feel like she’d swallowed an anvil. She didn’t let herself think too much further about it as she ensured the tether was still in place and departed for the Vesper Wing with Malik.
It was several hours later when Hanish’s message arrived. They had an opening, but it was short and it was in twenty minutes—it was close, but she was ready. Valine rushed from her suite, the palace uncharacteristically quiet in the reserved air of the executions. She made her way down to the holding area just beyond the gallows, stone cells with a row of bars. It was there that she found Hanish with a cart and the bodies.
And it was certainly bodies because there were three of them. She supposed someone had to take Pandora’s place.
“Before you ask, no I did not kill anyone, but this was the best I could do on such short notice,” Hanish informed her curtly. “This body was from a brothel. She contracted a pox and recently succumbed to her sickness. Don’t touch her.”
“Wasn’t planning to,” Valine told him evenly. “I admire your support reverently in this endeavor.”
Valine didn’t mince words, she quickly pulled up the dark wool of her wrap, the scent of clove, eucalyptus, and lemon thick beneath her nose. She’d ensured that she’d had a strong scent to counter the cloying rot of death and gases while she stole Pandora’s body.
Hauling Pandora’s corpse over her shoulder, she carried her to one of the many secret tunnels around Talloh’s palace, weaving her way through on sturdy boots. Valine ignored the cold and wrongness of touching the body and focused on her assignment. She counted paces and peeked out from behind tapestries to cement where she was in the palace. It took thirty minutes of carrying the reeking body before she came across the nearest alcove to her room. There were no guards posted and the hallways were empty, only a curtain fluttered in the breeze. She held her breath and waited ten minutes, watching that fabric for any more movement but when none came, she darted to her door, unlocking it and peering inside. Also empty. Leaving the door open, she bolted back to the alcove and hauled Pandora’s shrouded body into her suite.
When the door slammed behind her, she sighed and dragged Pandora to her ensuite, laying her out on the floor next to the tub. She ran a hot bath, scented with lavender and lemongrass, pulling fresh towels from the rack, and found a cotton shirt and pants. Tossing her cloak aside she knelt next to Pandora and pulled the funeral shroud from her body.
Rigor mortis had only just begun to set in, delayed by the tether that still flickered against Valine. Carefully, she curled her fingers, pulling magic from herself and allowing her necromancy to reanimate the woman. Color bloomed in Pandora’s cheeks, a healthy pallor was restored, the harsh bruises around her neck horribly clear. Valine was only able to heal the spinal break because it was the cause of death. Had it been a preexisting injury there was nothing she could have done. A pulse restarted in Pandora’s throat and Valine felt the first beats of Pandora’s heart.
Pandora revived with a gasp, clutching her chest and neck, tears flowing down her cheeks, sobbing as she struggled to sit up. Her eyes were wild and animal.
“Shh,” Valine cooed, reaching for her. “It’s okay, Pandora. It’s me. It’s Valine. I’m right here.”
“I was dead,” she howled in a hoarse whisper, hands clinging to Valine desperately.
“You were. But you’re alive again. See,” Valine said, punctuating it by taking one of Pandora’s hands and placing it over her own heart. “It’s beating. Your heart is beating. You are alive.”
“It hurt,” she whimpered.
“And I’m sorry for that, but this was the only way. Just know your suffering will be worth it. One day you will be a queen.”
Pandora’s haunted eyes flittered to hers.
“I ran you a bath. I figured you’d like to get clean and warm up.” She made a sound of discomfort. “I’ll dispose of your clothing for you.”
Pandora was crying silently, but she nodded, pulling off the linen she hung in. She let out a broken sound when she realized the state of her undergarments. Valine averted her eyes while Pandora dealt with that. Once the woman had tied everything up in the shift, she handed it to Valine from the cleanest point. Valine gestured for Pandora to get in the bath, and she did, tears still flowing.
Once she was settled, Valine stepped out of the room with the soiled garments where she found Malik standing in her suite. Shock and horror written across his face.
“I can explain,” Valine gasped.
“What,” Malik said flatly, the words deliberate and even, “the fuck did you do?”