Chapter 23
Twenty-Three
Hanna
The execution square was packed. Dare and I waited together, hidden among the spectators on the wall overlooking the square.
Thousands of people pressed shoulder to shoulder, waiting for justice—either rooting for Edric’s cruel justice or for the real thing, to see a child and an innocent-ish woman either executed or rescued.
The platform stood at the center. The gallows had been too well-used all these years.
Alys was defiant as she stared out at the crowd as the guards brought her out, gripping her arms and pushing her along.
They brought Coril at the last moment—perhaps because she was so young. The crowd rippled with disquiet at the sight of her, looking so small as she was flanked by guards.
My heart ached at how Thorne must be suffering as Coril finally reached the platform too.
Alys glanced down at her, said something softly.
Coril’s little chin rose as she turned to face the crowd, as defiant as her sister.
Though even from here, I could see her bound hands were shaking, her body trembling within the floor-length dress she wore.
The Shadow Goddess stirred angrily. “We could fix this now.”
Kaelan walked into the square alone.
He was dressed in simple black clothes. He wore a crown, but only because we intended to use a bonesteel crown to shield him from Edric if we didn’t kill him today.
The crowd rustled, pulling away from him, making a path in front of him. They were desperate to put some space between him and themselves; there were a dozen archers on the castle wall behind the platform, waiting above the unfurled black pennants.
The prince. The rebel. The son who’d dared challenge his father. I could barely look away from him to the castle doors behind the platform.
Kaelan’s voice carried across the square, magnified by magic. “I am Kaelan, heir to the Ice Kingdom. I come to witness what my father calls justice.”
The words seemed to echo in the air.
A plume of smoke rose, rolling across the platform.
The Shadow Weaver snarled within me. “Cheap parlor tricks. He doesn’t have shadows.”
“You came.” Edric’s voice also seemed to reverberate through the crowd, as close and loud to me as it was to those in the front row.
The smoke cleared away, revealing Edric standing on the platform.
“I wasn’t certain you would when you are thrall to the shadow magic—but I will have justice for my son. ”
“I came because you’re executing innocent people to draw me out,” Kaelan replied. “Because you’re a tyrant. Because you’re not worthy to rule our kingdom.”
“Innocent?” Edric gestured to Alys and Coril. “They harbored rebels. Conspired against their king. The law is clear.”
“The laws made by evil mean nothing to us.” Kaelan spoke for the crowd around him, too, at least for some of them.
Edric smiled. “Come closer, my son. Let them see you’re not afraid. Let them see if you can resist me.”
It was a trap, but we had always known that.
Kaelan walked forward anyway.
Thorne wasn’t standing near Kaelan. He was positioned among the guards, wearing a stolen uniform. It was always a mistake to mask the guards. They thought they could hide their faces and no one would know who it was who helped execute a little girl. But now the people were hiding among them.
Alys shifted slightly, testing the chains. Coril mirrored her movements, pulling at the bonds at her wrist to test them. Alys winked at her.
They might not know the plan, but they knew Kaelan hadn’t come here as a sacrifice. He must be a distraction.
And for now, as this drama played out, no one had put the nooses around their necks.
Edric studied Kaelan, the two of them still at a distance from each other. My breath stopped in my chest, wishing Kaelan would stay further away, but Kaelan strode toward him fearlessly.
“Did you bring your shadow witch?” Edric asked. “Do we need to clear the crowd so she won’t murder them as she murdered every guard and prisoner alike in the prison at Veld?”
“You’re the murderer,” Kaelan told him.
“I am not. Though, I will see every traitor strung up, from vile children—” He glanced at Coril, who paled, then stuck her tongue out at him, belatedly—he had already turned away. “To my own son.”
The crowd was restless, concerned by their proximity to violence that might spin out of the bounds they’d anticipated and also excited by that violence.
No one near Kaelan could stand to be so close and tried to push against their neighbors, but those on the outskirts surged in, wanting better sight.
The guards around the execution platform suddenly fell, like puppets with their strings cut.
All but a few, who still stood around the platform.
Edric was no fool. He took in what was happening in an instant, and his voice thundered over the scene. “Mages!”
Alys snapped her chains. Not broke, released.
Someone had weakened them deliberately. The guard nearest her threw her a sword, then pulled a second from his back.
Coril tried to break her own chains, but couldn’t; Alys grabbed her wrist and pulled her along with one hand, her sword ready in her other hand.
The crowd gasped.
But Alys was already moving. I knew Thorne yearned to fight his way to them. He could shift into the dragon and swoop down to pull them off that killing platform. He stayed, though, because that was the plan.
Edric’s hand shot out. Not toward the escaping prisoners. Toward Kaelan.
The mental link flared like lightning as Edric plunged through it.
Kaelan staggered. Edric invaded his mind with brutal force, with the sensation of a boot slamming into a toddler’s chest; I felt the violence like a memory. Kaelan’s teeth bared, his lips peeling back as if he were in pain.
Father and son locked eyes across the square. Too far apart to touch, but close enough for Edric to reach into Kaelan’s consciousness and tear.
Thorne immediately anchored him through their bond. I felt him grab hold of Kaelan’s mind and pull him back against Edric’s invasion.
But it wasn’t enough.
“Look at them,” the Shadow Weaver breathed. “The crowd. The chaos. The fear and hope and desperation. This is my moment. This is when they need to see what shadow can do.”
Kaelan fell to his knees.
Edric was forcing his son’s body to kneel before him in front of everyone.
The goddess surged forward.
Kaelan’s face went tight with pain, and I couldn’t keep a grip on her powers. I didn’t want to.
The shadows exploded outward.
They tore across the square like a tidal wave of darkness and wrapped around Edric before he could react. He slammed backward with force that cracked the platform beneath him.
Edric’s scream was raw. Animal. The sound of a man who’d never felt real pain suddenly drowning in it.
Blood sprayed across his stage. The shadows had opened him from shoulder to hip. A diagonal slash across his chest that went deep—through his ceremonial robes, through skin, through muscle. I could see white beneath the red. Bone. Ribs.
His left arm hung useless. The angle was wrong.
Edric tried to speak. Choked on blood instead. His hands pressed against the chest wound, trying to hold himself together.
These were killing wounds. Fatal if left untreated.
Kaelan planted one foot, then pushed himself up heavily. Now he was the one standing, walking toward his father.
Eight figures rushed around Edric. Two turned inward, frantically trying to heal him.
The other six raised their hands in near-unison
The first mage—older woman, gray hair—thrust her palms forward.
Fire erupted like a wall. Twenty feet high.
Roaring like a living thing. It tore across the square toward me, consuming everything in its path.
The heat hit first—blistering, choking. Then the flames were racing toward us, and the people around us screamed desperately.
The Shadow Weaver hummed with satisfaction.
When I raised, tthe flames died, drowned in shadows.
The second mage—a young man—brought his hands together. Ice formed between his palms, then exploded outward in a thousand crystalline shards. Each one sharp as a blade. Each one aimed at my heart.
The third called lightning. As the bolts streaked toward us, the thunder came simultaneously, so loud it felt like being hit. The lightning struck the cobblestones around me. Shattered them. Sent fragments flying like shrapnel.
The fourth mage conjured wind. It tore across the square, picked up debris—broken wood, stones—and hurled them at me with killing force.
There were all those people between us, and I wasn’t sure if it was my intention to protect them that the goddess answered, or if she were responding to their prayers, or if she was just showing off. But it didn’t matter.
The Shadow Weaver was protecting them.
The wall beneath my feet erupted. The fifth mage’s attempt.
Dare reached for me, but the goddess was rising, levitating in the shadows, pulling us above the crowd.
The sixth raised both hands and screamed, unleashing pressure being at the bottom of the ocean with all that weight pressing down.
The shadows moved faster than thought, faster than I could ever have reacted to the threats. Shadows wrapped around the first mage’s throat. Squeezed. Bone cracked. Fire magic flared around her and died like a candle blown out.
The second mage’s fire rose over the crowd as they ducked in panic and exploded against me. Pain lanced through me. Through the goddess. Through whatever we’d become.
But the shadows kept moving.
They caught the second mage. Lifted her. Broke her neck with casual violence.
One by one, the goddess was killing Edric’s mages while taking hits from their magic. Fire scorched my skin. Ice cracked my ribs. Lightning burned patterns across my arms.
I felt all of it at a distance. The goddess drew all their magic to us as everyone else cowered. Dare seemed so far distant, his arm thrown up to block the fire that beat on his face, his eyes wide.
And with every killing, the shadows moved closer to Edric.