CHAPTER TWELVE ISI
CHAPTER TWELVE
ISI
When we reached the foyer, four guards waited, standing at attention, their hands resting on sword hilts, studying us as we arrived.
This wasn’t protection. It was surveillance.
Pherin shifted on my shoulder, her tiny claws pricking through the fabric of my gown. To anyone watching, she appeared to be a sweet little bird, a pet with her head tilted in that endearing way only small creatures could do. But tension filled her small body, the coiled readiness of a predator.
No trust, she said in my mind.
Wise.
That me. Wise.
Trew maintained the perfect distance behind me, his disguised face showing nothing, but I sensed him cataloging the guards and potential threats.
One of the guards stepped toward me, a man with iron-gray hair. “Are you ready to leave, Your Highness?”
“Yes.” I kept my voice pleasant, the sweet princess grateful for her father’s consideration. “I appreciate you taking time from your duties, kind sirs.”
His expression didn’t change. “His Majesty insists on your safety.”
“How thoughtful of him.” I smoothed my skirts, a nervous gesture the old Amarissa would’ve made.
As we stepped through the castle doors into early afternoon sunlight that felt too bright and cheerful for what lay ahead, the guards formed a box around me with two in front and two behind.
Trew positioned himself at my right shoulder.
After leaving the grounds, we walked down the main road toward the marketplace.
When we passed the center where the Day of Mercy was held, I made myself look. And I made a promise to my people that no one would ever die in this place from ashwine again.
We continued until we reached the marketplace bustling with people both buying things and hawking their wares, plus shops with colorful streamers dangling from the roofs. The wind caught them, feathering them out in a rainbow.
As we walked through, the usual noise dimmed. People stopped what they were doing to watch me pass.
They bowed. Murmured, “Your Highness” with the appropriate deference. But their faces held something I’d never noticed before or perhaps had avoided acknowledging.
Wariness.
Not of me specifically, but of what I represented. The crown. The power. The bone-white mask I wore while presiding over executions.
In Syllavar, people had smiled at Trew and called out greetings. Teased him about the camellias in his garden or asked about Gavelle’s health. They’d loved him because he’d earned it. He protected them. He saw them as people rather than subjects to be managed.
Here, they looked at me and saw the executioner’s daughter.
Shame burned through me. These were my people. I should’ve fought harder for them. Challenged our laws. There must’ve been a way to stop the executions.
Instead, I’d made small rebellions and hoped they’d be enough.
How could I atone for the years I’d stood silent?
We’d passed the fountain at the market’s center when I saw the first notice, cream parchment nailed to a wooden post, bold black letters announcing the Day of Mercy.
Twenty-three names.
I stopped walking as horror ripped through me.
The guards shifted, their hands tightening on their weapons. Trew moved closer, angling his body to shield me from whatever threat he thought I’d spotted. But the only threat was the truth written on that parchment.
I forced myself to read the names. To see them. To acknowledge what would happen if I failed.
Elory Billins, the grain merchant who’d slipped extra flour to families who couldn’t pay. I’d bought bread from his shop after my mother passed.
Tara Whitley, a seamstress accused of animating her daughter’s toys with tiny sparks of magic.
Tom Courd, Justin Vess, Allen Marlon. All names I recognized from my rare visits beyond the castle walls.
Twenty-three people were scheduled to die because my father believed their magic was a crime.
As I stared, a passing villager brushed close, her breath hot against my ear.
“Please, Your Highness, save them. My brother’s on that list.” She hurried away before I could respond, her plea hanging like a weight while the guards’ eyes bored into me.
I wanted to tear down the notice, rip it to shreds, and scatter the pieces across the cobblestones.
End the meaningless cruelty it represented.
But that wouldn’t stop anything. Another notice would appear.
The executions would proceed as planned.
Destroying evidence of evil didn’t eliminate the evil itself.
I needed a permanent solution, a way to dismantle the entire system that made these murders possible. I just didn’t know what that solution was yet.
“Your Highness?” The head guard’s voice held a note of impatience. “Is something wrong?”
I turned away from the names that would haunt me. “I was reading the announcement.”
His eyes flicked to the parchment, then back to me. Assessing. Wondering if I’d give him something to report to my father.
I gave him nothing but a serene smile.
We continued through the market. More notices appeared on posts and walls, each one a reminder of the clock ticking down. Eleven days. Less than two weeks to find a way to save them all.
The lower part of the village spread ahead of us, buildings growing shabbier as we walked farther from the castle. Here, the cobblestones gave way to packed dirt. The merchant stalls were simpler, selling vegetables and basic goods on flat platforms.
But the people remained the same. Watching. Suspicious. Careful.
I stopped at a stall run by a woman who’d sold my mother herbs before she died. Her table stood near a cluster of others, including a cobbler mending boots, a baker stacking loaves, and an elderly woman arranging candles. They all turned guarded eyes toward me.
“Your Highness.” The herb woman’s curtsy came stiff, her lined face neutral. “How may I serve you?”
“I wanted to ask how you’ve been.” I gestured to the neat rows of basil and moonwort, the bundles of feathermyst tied with twine, their peppery scent reminding me of childhood teas. “Everything looks wonderful.”
“Thank you, Your Highness.” Her hands twisted in her apron. “I’m fine. We do our best.”
The guards stood close enough to hear every word. The woman kept glancing at them, her shoulders stiff with tension.
How could I establish any kind of trust or connection with my father’s men watching every interaction? But I had to try. Had to let these people see that I cared, even if I couldn’t yet explain how I planned to help them.
“I remember my mother buying from you,” I said. “She said you had the finest herbs in the city.”
Surprise flickered across her face.
“Your mother was a gracious lady.” Her voice was gentle. “I was sorry when she passed.”
“As was I.” The words caught in my throat.
The baker nodded, murmuring about knowing me since I was a child.
The cobbler mentioned his grandson taken to the reformatory a year ago, and the candle seller remembered me as a girl.
Each conversation felt like walking on broken glass.
One misstep, and my father’s guards would report my suspicious behavior.
A guard cleared his throat sharply. “Your Highness, we should keep moving. The day grows late.”
I ignored him, purchasing a bundle of herbs and a candle, thanking them. But I saw the way people watched Trew, sending curious glances at the new bodyguard. I could read the questions in their eyes.
The guards watched everything. Noted every person I spoke to. They listened in on every word exchanged. They practically counted each coin that passed from my hand to another’s.
By the time we reached the far edge of the market, my face ached from maintaining my pleasant princess expression.
A cloaked woman rushed through the marketplace from my right, bumping into me.
“Sorry,” she mumbled and kept going.
I caught a glimpse of tight braids woven into an intricate arrangement on her head before she tugged the hood of her cloak higher.
Lexie.
Trew had also recognized her. His gaze followed my friend until she’d ducked into a tea shop on the edge of the market.
“Your Highness,” Trew said. “Perhaps you should rest before we continue. There’s a tea shop nearby.” He gestured toward it. “Would you like to sit and have a cup?”
One of the guards frowned. “That wasn’t part of the planned route.”
“There is no planned route and the princess is tired.” Trew’s gaze remained on the guard. “Surely her comfort takes precedence over whatever path you want her to take through the market.”
The guard’s jaw tightened, but he couldn’t argue without admitting he was here to spy on me, not provide protection.
He scowled. “Fine.”
Trew guided me toward the small shop tucked between a cloth merchant and a spice dealer.
Pherin’s claws tightened on my shoulder, her small body vibrating with anticipation. She knew something was about to happen.
The guards started to follow us inside.
Trew turned, positioning himself in the doorway. His body language shifted, coming across less deferential bodyguard and more an immovable obstacle.
“The princess requires a private moment to compose herself.” His voice carried absolute authority. “You will wait outside.”
The head guard’s eyes narrowed. “Our orders—”
“Are to ensure her safety, not to witness every moment of her day.” Trew’s hand rested casually on his sword hilt. “Unless you’d like to explain to His Majesty why you insisted on crowding around his daughter while she composes herself after an emotional visit with her people?”
The phrasing was perfect. It reminded them that I was the king’s daughter, that embarrassing me would mean answering to my father, and that Trew was simply protecting my dignity.
The guard’s jaw worked, but he stepped back. “We’ll be right outside.”
“Yes, that will work well. I’m confident I can watch out for her inside.” Trew closed the door with a soft click.
The shop’s interior smelled of mint and chamomile and there wasn’t a single patron inside.
Lexie stood behind the counter, her face serious, her eyes sparkling with humor. “What can I get for you today, my lady?”