40. This Girl Is On Fire
I couldn’t feel my feet.
That was all I could think about as my wrists were bound behind my back and I was frog marched from my cell. I couldn’t feel my bare feet touching the cool stone, and I was going to fall and humiliate myself. I’d heard crowds assembling through the bars of my cell for the past hour. I’d gathered what remained of my strength and balanced on my tiptoes to glimpse them, but I’d seen more than I bargained for. A wooden structure had been erected, with a tall, sturdy post in the middle. I’d seen enough TV to know a stake when I saw one.
Fae had come in droves to watch the Human Queen burn, and they were going to laugh when I inevitably fell over. I wanted to scream. I wanted to lift my feet off the floor, letting my guards take my weight, and scream at the sky. It wasn’t fair. If I had to die before an audience, why couldn’t it be with some shred of dignity? I had given everything to these people, these fae. I had done everything within my power to free them from a tyrant.
Not everything
I’d tried to leave. I’d had my pride dented by Anwir’s lies, and I’d thrown in the towel. I could have, should have done more, but now it was too late.
Nobody had come for me. Not Idris, the male I’d come to consider a real friend, and maybe something more. He’d asked me to stay another night. Maybe I should have. Maybe none of this would have happened, and maybe one night would have turned into two. A week. A month. Forever. I could even now be repeating the kiss we’d shared. But I’d left, and Idris hadn’t come.
Neither had Anwir, who had taken my trust and shattered it. Nor Jacques, the vampire I’d pushed too far. Not even the witches, who had lied to me from the moment I found Sage’s cottage. They’d all abandoned me, after using me and lying to me and tricking me. I’d given them as much of me as I could, and for what?
To get home.
My heart sank to the soles of my hollow feet. I’d been selfish without a doubt, but death seemed a harsh punishment for wanting to return to my own life. As did being abandoned by my allies in the final hour, but it was my own fault. If I’d stayed, if I’d put the cause of Neath before my own selfish desires, if I hadn’t run away, none of this would be happening.
My fault.
My guards led me through grim, twisting halls. Through the haze of disbelief coating my eyes, I glimpsed bare walls. No tapestries. No art. Not a single carpet, or even a chair in which a weary wanderer might rest for a minute.
“Who lives here?”
Was that thin, trembling voice mine? I resolved not to say another word, which was just as well, because my guards acted as though I was already a ghost and hadn’t spoken at all.
This couldn’t be the palace of Tir o Haf. I couldn’t imagine a king, not even Maelgwyn, living anything less than lavishly. Which meant I was somewhere else, somewhere less obvious. Maybe somebody had tried to find me after all, but had gone to the wrong place. It was a clever trick, even if the thought of it flooded my eyes with tears. With my hands trapped at the small of my back, I couldn’t wipe them away. They spilled silently over my cheeks, dripping down my front, and it was only then I realised that I’d still nursed the tiniest shred of hope within my heart. That previously unnoticed ember sputtered out, its glow growing cold and dark. Nobody was coming. This was the end.
Ahead of me loomed an open doorway, and beyond, the milling crowd, come to see me burn. The sight brought feeling rushing back to my feet, and I planted them against the floor, unable to take another step.
I couldn’t walk. I couldn’t die. This couldn’t be real. Burning had happened to so-called witches, hundreds of years ago. Not to me. It couldn’t happen to me.
My guards hoisted me forwards, their hands tucked under my armpits, and I scrabbled for purchase. I was no match for them. The stone snagged my toes and scuffed my soles, but I gained nothing in the way of a delay as they hauled me into the courtyard.
Daylight bored into my eyes, which had grown accustomed to the gloom of the castle, all but blinding me. The courtyard was eerily silent. If I couldn’t feel hundreds of eyes crawling over my skin, I might have thought the crowd had vanished. I’d expected jeers, a hurl of insults, maybe a barrage of rotten fruit, but this was much worse.
Silence.
My panting breath, my grunts of struggle were plain for all to hear. They’d hear me scream too, when the flames devoured me.
A sob burst through my clenched teeth. It was a wonder I was still conscious. My heart pounded at a violent speed, more of a rapid hum than a beat. Maybe I’d faint. It would be better that way. At least I wouldn’t feel any pain. Or maybe I wouldn’t faint at all.
It was going to hurt.
Twisting, I writhed against the vice of my captors’ grip, but they hoisted me clean off my feet, suspended between them. My legs kicked in a frenzy, but through my tears, I glimpsed the dark, hulking pyre, coming ever closer.
No, no, no.
“No!” I sobbed.
No. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t happen to me. I was nobody. Just an ordinary woman, with an ordinary life. I was supposed to die in an ordinary way. People didn’t just burn to death. I couldn’t.
My thrashing foot whacked against the wooden platform and pain shot up my leg, turning my sobs to screams. The guards hauled me up, shoving me back against the unyielding stake. A fucking stake. How was this happening to me? I fought, twisting and shoving uselessly against their brute strength, but even if my hands had been free, it would have been hopeless.
A rope tightened around my waist, wrapping and wrapping, cutting into the soft flesh of my belly, trapping me. The guards stepped away, down to safety, and began tossing bundles of brittle sticks around my feet. I blinked my tears free, staring down at the wood that would catch and burn, taking me with it.
This was it. This was the end.
Nobody was coming for me.
The crowd wouldn’t intervene. My breath came in shallow bursts as I took in the grim faces of my audience, meeting their eyes. One or two gave small smiles of reassurance, as though that was enough. As though that would make me feel any less terrified or alone. I might have preferred jeers. At least my anger would have carried me when everything else had fled.
Movement caught my attention, and my guts turned to jelly as I whipped my head to look. Was it my executioner, come with a flaming torch to set me alight?
King Maelgwyn strolled toward me, a pleasant smile pasted over his waxy face, and three lion-sized hounds trotting at his sides. The dogs resembled blunt faced bears more than anything, but for once in my life, I had no interest in them. Maelgwyn was here. He’d stayed to see his orders fulfilled, had he? He halted before my platform.
“A beautiful day for a burning, wouldn’t you agree, human?” His tone was light, just an old man remarking upon the weather, nothing more.
I couldn’t find any words for him. Nothing clever. Certainly no begging or pleading. I gave him my silence instead, my gaze drifting to the almost empty sky. Dark clouds loomed on the horizon. If it rained, would that be better, or worse? Would it put out the flames and delay my death, giving my allies another day to find me? Or would it simply make the fire burn slower, dragging out my suffering?
“Unless, of course, you’ve reconsidered?”
My eyes snapped back to the king, and at last, anger ignited in my chest. It burnt as violently as I soon would. Maybe it was stupid of me, maybe I should have lied, but I spat, “Light me up, bitch.”
Maelgwyn raised a bald eyebrow. “Very well, but know this. I will enjoy hearing you scream. And when your ashes have been swept away, I will hunt down your prince. There will be no mercy this time. I will make him scream too.”
He meant Anwir, but my mind went straight to Idris, and my heart stalled at the thought of him in danger. I couldn’t even pretend to believe that he would fight back. That pain that had flowed between us… he’d already given up. He would let them take him. Maybe it would have been better for everyone if I’d left the princes sleeping.
“Is this the only way you can make a woman scream, you ugly old cunt?”
Mum would have had my head if she heard such filth coming from my lips, but given the circumstances, she would understand. At the thought of her, a new wave of tears poured down my cheeks, but I held my glare level. My letter had never been sent. She thought her daughter was dead at the bottom of some underground canyon. She would never know the truth. This truth. It was a mercy. I couldn’t stand for her to know this.
Maelgwyn’s pallid face paled at my words, the last hint of colour draining from his thin lips. I expected a retort, but none came. The king turned his back on me, strolling away from me as though he was enjoying a walk in the park.
My heart racketed around my chest. I couldn’t breathe. I was going to vomit. If the rope around my middle hadn’t been tied so tight, my legs wouldn’t have held my weight.
A glimmer of orange caught my eye.
Fire.
A flaming torch, approaching, held aloft by a guard.
No.
This was it. It was actually happening. I clenched my teeth together, determined not to give that bastard king the satisfaction of hearing the screams he coveted. A fool’s hope, but I ground my teeth together all the same.
As the guard drew near, my body succumbed to violent shaking. The rope cut into my belly as my knees buckled from under me. I fixed my eyes on the sky, but the rapidly approaching steel grey clouds weren’t enough to distract me from the glimmer of firelight in my peripheral vision.
A whimpering sob hummed against the back of my clenched teeth, my quivering lips. Once the wobbling sound started, I was powerless to stop it.
With a hideous crackle, the flames caught my pyre. The glow flared brighter. Heat blared against my bare legs, and a moment later, the stench of smoke sucked into my panting lungs.
God, let it be quick. Please let it be quick.
The sky. I had to look at the sky. It was half blue, half grey, nothing like the orange dancing closer to my feet. The sky was beautiful. I’d take a picture, if I could.
Smoke billowed, all but obliterating my view. The crackle grew to a roar. The scorching heat intensified. I tried to draw my legs away, but the flames closed in on all sides. I clenched my teeth hard enough to crack them as my skin began to bubble and split.
Despite my hopeless determination, my whimpers turned to a scream.
Heat. Terror. Agony. Scorching, unimaginable agony.
Smoke clogged my lungs.
I screamed.