CH.34 Burn, witch! Burn!
People from all over the city gathered in the square.
In the middle was a pyre built for the witch, who was going to be burned alive.
The creature from hell would burn in the hellish flames she had signed up her soul for.
They built stands around it, where the nobility sat, wanting to have a good view when the deadly spectacle begins.
And the best places were reserved for the royal family.
No one wanted to miss her execution. The king and queen sat on their small thrones surrounded by guards, and by their side stood the prince with his bride.
They held hands like lovers. Even the proud stepmother found enough strength in herself to come and see the end she had prepared for the stepchild she hated so much.
And why? Because she saw herself in her.
Kind and warm-hearted before the world broke her.
She sat in the front row. Her face was pale as if death was already standing behind her, its bony hand placed on her shoulder.
There was cruelty and disgust written in her eyes.
An impatient whisper carried through the air.
People were already wanting to warm themselves in the glow of the fire.
Finally, the time had come. They brought her in a cart in a cage like an animal.
Commander Dominic kept her company. There was a bruise under his eye.
He was still confused from the night. He didn't know what had happened.
At one point, he lost consciousness and woke up a few hours later.
And she was still in the cell. Somewhere during that time of his unconsciousness, it was as if she had gone crazy.
The soldiers pulled her out of the cage.
She was writhing and twisting. She refused to let go of the bars that kept her safe.
Her from the world, not the world from her.
Bound in chains, she was forcibly brought before the royal family and their merciless gazes.
Their eyes burned with a desire for her blood.
The prince's eyes reflected a coldness she had never known before.
It chilled to the core. It pierced her like the blade of a sword.
She was knocked to her knees. Tears welled in her eyes.
The executioner appeared, carrying her accusation in his hand.
"This woman, Iris, stepdaughter of Madam Tremaine, is accused of the following crimes and sins," he shouted to the crowd. "Attempted murder of His Grace, Crown Prince Edmund, and his bride-to-be, Anastasia Tremaine. High treason and aiding and abetting rebels seeking to overthrow our king."
Rebels, of whom nothing was left but fodder for the forest animals, Iris thought.
"Practising black magic. Signing your soul to the devil and making pacts with demons."
People gasped in shock when the accusation was made. Many knew her and could not even imagine that the sweet child who had lost her mother years ago had grown up to be the evil witch from fairy tales.
"The verdict has been passed, and the punishment for her crimes will be death by burning."
She wanted to scream for help, but no words came out of her mouth.
Only wailing and screaming. No plea for mercy.
Tears were streaming down her cheeks. She writhed and struggled in a last hope of escape.
She hoped they would notice that it wasn't her, that it was just another game.
But no one could see beyond the veil of magic that hid her behind its illusion.
And the real Iris smiled in the crowd as her stepsister was tied to the stake.
How she fought back in vain. The soldiers approached with torches in their hands.
They threw them onto the pile of wood that surrounded her.
The fire quickly turned into a bright flame.
Its tongues reached higher and higher, crawling towards its victim.
It touched her skirt briefly. As if tasting her.
The fabric caught fire. The fiery tongues wrapped around her body and held her in their embrace.
Their heat dug into her skin. They consumed her alive.
People trembled at the sight of horror. They looked away.
It had been decades since they had last witnessed the execution of a witch.
Only the oldest remembered it. The scream piercing their ears, the smell of burning flesh wafting through the air, making their stomachs churn.
The fire burned her inside and out. Her blackening body refused to yield. Some even vomited.
Iris told herself that she had seen enough of the fate she had escaped. She walked through the crowd. She approached the stage where the royal family stood, the only ones who did not close their eyes to the flames. They watched as she burned with cruel pleasure.
The stepmother's gaze fell on Iris. She noticed her golden hair in the crowd.
Their eyes met. She was immediately overcome with terror.
If she was there, then who was burning at the stake?
The thought flashed through her mind, her worst nightmare.
Iris smiled ominously. She knew exactly what was aching in her mind.
She pulled a puppet tied to strings from under her cloak.
A small version of the large one she had sewn, an imitation of her stepsister.
She whispered something to it. Anastasia's hand slipped from the prince's.
She stepped forward. And with that, Iris cut the strings.
The spell failed. Both puppets fell to the ground in their true forms. Motionless. Empty.
"Anastasia!" the prince shouted.
He ran to her, but it wasn't her he fell to his knees before. Only a doll stuffed with straw. It bore the form of the one he supposedly loved. He didn't understand. Confusion played on his face. But the stepmother understood very quickly.
"Anastasia!" she ran to the fire.
The soldiers had to stop her from jumping into the flames. She wanted to get to her, but the soldiers stood in her way.
"Anastasia! My child!"
Pain gripped her heart. She saw her dying, heard her scream of agony, and she couldn't help her. She was already lost.
A soft whisper drew the prince's gaze to the witch who had fled from him.
His face twisted in anger at the realization.
And suddenly, the cruelty was gone. The burning woman's screams ceased, and her body stopped writhing in deathly convulsions.
When the true object of the enchantment burned in the flames, his curse was broken. And he remembered.
"Iris," her name escaped his lips like a prayer. It shone through the darkness like the morning rays of the sun.
But it was too late because the witch did not love the prince.
She pulled the hood of her cloak over her head.
The prince blinked, and she was gone. She vanished into nothingness.
He looked around at the chaos that had gripped the square.
The soldiers were trying to calm the rioting crowd that had just seen their future queen burned to death.
A huge battle was raging. Stones flew through the air.
Blood stained the pavement. The royal guards were pulling the royal family back into the carriage to protect them. But the prince resisted.
"Iris!" he called her name. "Iris!"
His heart yearned to find her and feel her in his arms again. He wanted to apologize to her and needed to hear the answers to the questions that were overwhelming his mind. He didn't understand anything.
"Iris!"
?
She sat by her mother's grave. She wove a wreath from the dahlias that grew there.
She talked to her. She didn't know if he could hear her.
Her body lay buried in the ground, but who knew where her ghost was wandering?
Maybe in Hell, as they say. And maybe she was wandering somewhere in the woods, and maybe she was still watching over her.
She didn't know if she could hear her, but she kind of hoped so.
"You probably don't like me very much when you see me.
You told me to always be kind and warm-hearted, but somehow, I've grown to be the exact opposite.
All those secrets and lies were probably too much.
I believe you did everything to protect me from Hell, and I gave my soul to it.
To him. But I'm happy. I used to long for love like in fairy tales.
I longed for that kiss of true love that would save the whole world, but not anymore.
I want bloody love. Painful one. The kind that shakes the world to its foundations.
I want to burn with desire, even if it might burn me in the end.
Luc understands the darkness in me, and I don't have to hide it from him.
I know you tried to protect me from him, but I don't need it. I like him."
"Only like me?" his voice came.
Iris turned to him. A broad smile spread across her lips. Her heart leaped.
"I love you, Luc," she told him. "I think I've kind of loved you since the masquerade ball.
When you took such good care of me. You were there for me.
As the only one. No empty words, just actions.
And I already understand why you hid certain facts from me.
It's hard for me to accept certain things.
If you had spit it all out on me at once, I would have run away like I did. I'm sorry. I love you."
The words seemed pathetic and stupid, so human, but when he heard them from her mouth, something inside him stirred. His heart beat a little faster.
"All forgotten. I love you, my queen," he told her. And it was the purest truth he had ever spoken.
Iris stood up and walked over to him. She placed a wreath of dahlias she had woven on his head. She had to stand on tiptoe to reach him, and he had to bend down a little. He gave her a confused look.
"If I am your queen, then you are my king," she said.
"Prince Edmund is looking for you," he remarked.
"And?"
"You're not interested?"
"No."
"Not a bit?"
"No."
"He wants you back. Now that the enchantment has finally been broken."
There was a tenderness in his eyes that she had never known before. Almost sadness, she would say. There was an urgency in his gaze, a plea for her not to leave him.
"I'm already married, if you forgot? And happily, I would say," she replied. "However, if I'm not good enough for my beloved husband, I can return to the prince or find another demon who would be interested in a powerful witch."
She turned her back on him to leave, but Luc grabbed her wrist and pulled her back to his chest. In the suddenness of the movement, he kissed her possessively.
"You are mine," he said against her lips. "Only mine."
"Only yours," she said.
The touch of her lips was a sweet damnation to him. He refused to give her up. He was addicted. Every kiss was a beautiful symphony of the two of them.
"Say it again."
"What? That I'm yours?"
"That I'm your husband. I love how it sounds."
"My husband. My beloved husband. My beloved demon husband."
"My wife."
It sounded almost unbelievable. And so beautiful.
"From now on, no one will hurt you. No one." He gently stroked the small wound on her neck that the rebel had left when they had come to take revenge. "My wife."
"When we get home, we'll make our bond official and fix its wildness."
"I like it when our bond is so wild."
"I'm not saying I don't enjoy its wildness, my dear, but it can mess with our power. And we need to be at full strength now. I feel them coming."
"Can they hurt you when you're weakened? Because of me?" worry reflected in her eyes. Their fates couldn't have collided just to lose each other. "I don't want them to kill you."
Iris hugged him tightly, as if she would never let him go. Luc hid her in his arms. He liked it when she was worried about him, the very proof of her love.
"Don't worry. I cannot be killed," he answered her curiosity. "We demons have been fighting each other longer than we have with witches, longer than the sands of time have been pouring down. If we could be killed, we would probably have killed each other long ago."
"The other demons probably won't be happy about us. I'm a witch, after all. Your archenemy."
"I don't care what they think. I only want you, Iris. That's all I want, all I crave. Let them come with their treacherous intentions. I will show them what will happen to anyone who tries to stand between us."
"I guess they'll try to stop us from making our bond official. Use it against you."
"Quite likely. That's why you must learn to use your power, Iris. To show them where their place is. Let them know why they should fear you."
"And then, together, we will reclaim the throne that rightfully belongs to you, my king," she added.
"Together, my queen."
He took off the flower wreath from his head and threw it over her mother's gravestone. He cut his palm and let the drops of blood fall to the ground.
"I swear I will take care of her, Dahlia. I will tear the stars from the heavens if she asks for them. I would rather rip my own heart from my chest than watch the sorrow in her eyes again."
"Hopefully, that won't be necessary," she said.
Luc laughed.
"As long as I breathe, I will love her. For the rest of eternity and beyond. I swear."
He turned back to his beloved. He held out his hand to her.
"Ready?"
"I was born ready."
She placed her hand in his, and together they disappeared into the flames.