Chapter 34 #2
Tears dripped down her nose, into her mouth as she gazed out at the arena.
At the hundreds of people who laughed and clapped and shouted as the noose tightened around her neck.
Was this what it was like for all of them?
Each name that was drawn? Each sacrifice?
The thought of other sacrifices brought forth even more sobs.
For decades, Vargah had performed the ritual.
For decades, the kings and queens of this country had happily killed one of their own, and it was Desmond who wanted change. Who wrote that he would find a way.
And it was Desmond who was now dead, and Kamari who would die next.
She braved another glance at the crowd. The children that sang and the mothers that prayed. She didn’t blame them. They were thirsty beyond reason. Hot and scorching without astra to keep them cool. Kamari dying meant they would live and so she would not blame them.
She didn’t have all the pieces to the puzzle, but change was coming and her sister would bring it.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice went unheard as the High Priestess began a prayer, but her mind was racing through each and every moment in her life up to this one.
Her childhood in Novaria.
Her sister and her brother.
Her husband.
The noose became impossibly tight around her neck and the crowd began chanting.
No, not chanting, counting.
They were counting down until her neck snapped. Counting down until the wells of water would be refilled and astra be restored to their parts of the city.
“Five!”
Desmond, she thought.
“Four!”
You were right. I know you were right.
“Three!”
I will find you.
“Two!”
And we will be together again.
“One!”
I love you.
The crowd silenced and Kamari sent one final prayer, not to Celestria, but beyond, to the stars and the moon to welcome her home. The planks beneath Kamari opened up and she took one long, final breath–
Screams erupted from the stands and Kamari opened her eyes to realize her neck had not been snapped.
The sentry that had tied her up was fighting someone, another sentry was beneath her, his back supporting her feet. She balanced on her toes, trying carefully to keep her weight off her neck, the rope tore into her skin, stinging and burning against the tender flesh.
More sentries entered the arena, more fighting and screaming erupted and Kamari didn’t know where to look. What to do.
There was little that she could do.
Her hands were bound, and if it wasn’t for the sentry beneath her, she’d already be dead.
“Get her to the ship!” a sentry screamed but that didn’t make any sense.
Were they helping her? Denying a sacrifice?
“Get ready to catch her!” He pulled out a knife as dozens more sentries filled the arena, headed straight for them.
The rope swung as he cut across it and Kamari struggled to keep her balance on the man’s shoulders.
“Kill them!” A sentry called out and Kamari could not tell who he was talking to. Kill Kamari? Kill the intruders? Kill the other sentries?
Everything happened so quickly and soon she was falling, tumbling through the bottom of the dais and into the arms of the man whose back had saved her life. Rough hands grabbed her, hauling her over his shoulder before he ran through the arena.
Shouting and screams and the grisly sound of metal on metal sounded behind her but the sentry didn’t stop. Kamari closed her eyes, praying, praying, for whatever was to come.
He carried her through the winding tunnels of the Citadel.
Through passages that were so void of light, she couldn’t understand how he knew the way.
He carried her so far, the screaming from the arena began to fade and only when they came out the other side of the tunnel, emerging in the Boneyard District did he set her down.
Her throat burned from the rope, her wrists marked red. He cut the ropes free and she kicked them away as they landed on the ground. The man who’d saved her towered over her, his sentry mask fit snugly over his face.
She opened her mouth, to thank him or to scream at him, she wasn’t sure, when voices rose from around the corner. The man grabbed her waist and pinned her to the tunnel wall, his large hand pressed over her mouth, the other firm on her waist. When the voices faded, he slowly peeled his hand away.
“Who are you?” Kamari’s voice was hoarse. “What is going on?”
The man stepped back and peered out the tunnel. A flash of light flickered across his mask, once, twice, three times.
A signal.
“It’s time to go.” The familiar timber of his voice silenced the sounds of the city.
She reached for his mask, ran her fingers over it and then under until she could feel the scratch of the hair along his jaw.
The curve of his lips. The bend of his nose.
She peeled it off, pushing it over dark locks of hair and gasped when she drew her hands away.
“Desmond?”
He stood over her, a deep cut dripping red down his cheek, his nose twisted and bloody. Her knees gave out, sending her plummeting to the ground but those strong arms she knew well wrapped around her waist and pulled her up.
“We have to go.” He moved to put his sentry mask over his head but before he covered his face she pressed on the back of his neck until his mouth was aligned with hers.
Then he kissed her. He kissed her until she could not breathe.
He kissed her so deeply she forgot, for a moment, where they were or what had happened.
For a fraction of time it was just her and him and every ounce of pain and worry and fear washed away like sand adrift in the wind.
She was home, in his arms, and he kept kissing her until their souls were threaded, the beat of their hearts syncing together.
Alive, alive, alive, their pulses sang with every press of their lips.
Then, he pulled away and reality came crashing back into her.
The ache from the burns on her neck.
Her wrists.
The fact that Desmond was here, in front of her, when she thought him dead.
Another flash of light cut across his face before he pulled his mask on completely. His arms tightened around her, crushing her into his chest. “Whatever happens, my love, don’t let go of me.”