Chapter 43
Aheavily armed contingent of Envorsen escorted her to the great hall for the execution. The morning light filtered through the rose window, casting Ravenka’s gem-studded reliquary with a cold glow.
The central pews had been removed to accommodate the crowd of nobles and peasants alike who’d come to spectate. They silently parted in the center to allow Ksenia to walk down between the massive stone pillars to her execution.
The silence in the hall was anything but; it was thick and expectant, the sound of the Envorsen footfalls and Ksenia’s dragging chains amplified and echoing into the rafters.
A beam of multi-colored light shone over a solitary prayer bench that was situated in front of a shallow stone basin.
On either side of the kneeler, a pair of familiar faces.
Bohdan’s jaw was stiff, his shoulders held steady as his eyes fixed on a distant point beyond her face.
His hand rested steady against the pommel of his sword, but his knuckles were bloodless, tendons standing against his hand on edge.
Opposite him, Mirko’s face was grim and drawn with lines. He ran his hand roughly through his peppered, coiled hair, his eyes dropping from Ksenia’s back to the floor.
Directly before the stone basin, Karsan’s throne.
Against the ancient stone of the great hall, the polished wooden throne gleamed obscenely.
Ksenia could feel his presence before she heard a single footstep approach. A change in the very air made her skin crawl with recognition.
But she forced herself still before the butcher king. He didn’t deserve any reaction from her.
A collective held breath rippled through the audience.
They folded in unison, a wave of bowing bodies, the rustle of fabric echoing as hundreds of knees met stone.
Hundreds of bodies bent in submission to their king, their heads touching the cold floor, not daring to move until he gave word.
His eyes were full of mirth as he settled into the gaudy throne, his fingers steepled against the armrest as he regarded Ksenia with the thinly veiled patience of a parent disciplining a child.
The numbness in her body shattered like glass as their eyes locked.
A fire ignited in the core of her being, where the ice had pooled. It burned in her skull and settled behind her eyes as she imagined him painted in blood once more.
He had turned her love for Danika into a weapon, her body into a tool, and her very existence into an abomination.
Every detail of his smug face was etched in her mind. Her muscles coiled tight like steel.
Despite her chains and the multiple guards holding her in place, she inched forward, fighting to rip him to pieces.
Her stare was predatory as she silently promised what she would do if the shackles ever broke, how she would tear him limb from limb and force him to relive the violation he had forced upon others.
He was right.
She was wholly herself now, distilled into something pure, terrible, and utterly magnificent.
He chuckled, low. “Hail, demon.”
“Hail, butcher.” Her smile stretched, all teeth.
“I find myself once more in a remarkably good mood this morning.” He leaned his head against his hand, studying her. “A final courtesy, if you will, to utilize the strength and wit I know still reside in you.”
He stood in front of the stone basin to face her.
“Kneel before this throne—not in death, but in partnership. Pledge yourself to my service once more, and I will grant you not only mercy, but elevation beyond your wildest dreams.” His voice dropped low, to a whisper only she could now hear.
“Imagine what we might accomplish if we turned our power to this entire continent. Not as master and bloodhound, but as sovereign and right hand.”
His smile was thin and paternal.
Ksenia could sense the stiffness in Bohdan’s shoulders, but he stared dutifully forward, awaiting the decision whether he would see her walk free or be forced to take her head.
The silence stretched taut like fraying rope, every thread snapping at its breaking point.
Ksenia’s lips curled into something akin to a smile.
Then, she drew her head back and spat in his face.
A deliberate, wet sound echoed through the hall.
Gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd as he bemusedly wiped it clean with his silken handkerchief.
She lifted her chin, the chains rattling as she fought forward. The guards behind her dug their heels into the ground as they strained to hold her back.
“I would rather burn in the deepest pit in hell,” she began, “than spend one more moment as your blade.” Her eyes bored into his with the intensity of molten steel.
“My only regret is that I won’t be the one to drag you screaming into those flames.
” A cruel smile twisted on her lips. “But I’ll be waiting for you there, Karsan Saranov. That much I promise.”
He rubbed his chin, wistfully, taking in her words before pivoting on his heel to sit upon his throne.
“So mote it be.” He beamed coldly at her.
“Ksenia Drazan, by my decree and the laws of this land, justice shall be served to you this day. You kneel before me to answer for the crimes against the kingdom: charged with attempted regicide and the premeditated murder of thirty-four people, including your own sister.”
A low, uneasy rumble of a hundred voices swelled into an ocean of noise.
Hot tears welled in Ksenia’s eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She seethed at the thought of being a scapegoat for his transgressions.
“Some of your victims, although also guilty of crimes, were denied their rightful judgment under the law. You made yourself judge, jury, and executioner.”
A crazed smile pulled over her face. “We are alike in that regard.”
Karsan chuckled with a slight shake of his head. He raised his hand to Bohdan, who unsheathed his sword. A crystalline chime pealed through the room…
Bohdan swallowed stiffly, his breath rising unevenly as Mirko forced her to kneel on the prayer bench. His sword rose high above her head, and she shut her eyes.
A resonant thunk reverberated through the hall as blood painted the ground, missing the basin.
For a heartbeat, the world froze.
Then, it all went to hell.
The crowd exploded outward like a disturbed nest of ants.
Screams pierced the space as hundreds of bodies surged toward the exits and hallways simultaneously.
All semblance of order disintegrated into animalistic panic, peasants trampling nobles, ladies abandoning their silk slippers to scrabble barefoot across the stone.
Ksenia’s breath shuddered, a numbing buzz flooding her entire body as she opened her eyes. Bohdan dropped to his knees next to her, a crossbow bolt skewering him through his chest. Blood seeped into his handsome crimson uniform, the color draining from his face.
The chaos drowned out her scream as she thrashed against her chains toward his slumped body.
He swallowed thickly, the blood bubbling from his mouth as he struggled to form words, his eyes straining to convey understanding to hers.
“Bohdan! No—”
She screamed at the fleeing crowd, the guards flooding to secure Karsan as more crossbow bolts hit the floor.
“Help him!—Someone—”
She dragged herself closer. He couldn’t go. Everyone was gone.
She sobbed, her forehead pressed against his bleeding chest.
She shrieked as someone pulled at her chains, lifting her off his body. There was a small flicker in his eye, the smallest curve of a smile as he pushed up to crash his lips against hers.
Their mouths were beautifully bloody.
“Now, we’re even.” His words were strained.
Ksenia’s eyes widened, her breath ragged, struggling to understand. She thrashed and writhed against the force pulling her backward.
His eyes held hers—pained.
“Calm down, we’re getting out!” a voice hissed.
A pair of hands dragged her to a nearby portrait through the pandemonium. The sound was deafening, the thunderous rumble of feet against marble punctuated by shrieks of fear. Candle stands and lecterns crashed to the floor.
The portrait swung open, and Ksenia was dragged through, kicking and screaming.
A hand gruffly covered her mouth, and she sank her teeth into its palm, the coppery taste of blood on her tongue.
“Fuck—shit! It’s me!”
Varka pulled off her mask and hood, tousled brown hair springing out.
“What—we have to go back for him!” Ksenia snarled and kicked at Varka.
Another familiar voice cut through her thrashing.
“Then survive.” Mirko’s hands were already working at her shackles, applying a salve with his gloved hand that began bubbling and dissolving the rusty metal.
“We can’t leave him here with Karsan!” Ksenia fought through the incredulity.
“He’s not going to die.” Mirko’s voice was steady. “The bolt missed anything vital, as we planned.”
She roughly threw the crumbling metal shackles against the wall. “Karsan will kill him—”
Her back collided against the wall next, making her teeth click. Mirko gripped her upper arms with deadly strength, the veins beneath her skin breaking from the pressure.
“Listen closely, operative. Bohdan coordinated this escape with us and insisted we strike him.”
Ksenia’s eyes flashed to his.
He was living his lie, like she had forced him to.
Mirko released his grip and stepped away. “If you stay here, he will die. North’s got the exit clear. We have seconds before the guards regroup. He made his choice—now make yours.”
North…?
Varka reappeared by the pair, hauling up a concealed stone slab along the path, a tunnel yawned beneath, torch-lit and waiting. North. This whole time.
Ksenia looked back. He was still close enough to reach.
Her hand tremored.
“Now, we’re even.”
“He’d better be alive when I come back.” Steel twisted through Ksenia’s voice.