The Axe
Sunlight yawned over the horizon by the time I’d finally succumbed to exhaustion. Chatter from the town square rustled me from my mid-afternoon slumber.
Through the small window, was life and death. The wooden stage, permanently planted on the south side of the square, drew no attention as the citizens of Illica skittered about. All varieties of life accustomed to moving beneath the looming shadow of death.
Nausea writhed in my belly as I imagined the flurry of activity halting to witness my sentence. My white knuckles screamed, beckoning my attention to the half crescents dug into my palms. I turned away from the window and shook them loose.
“As long as you’re useful,” I muttered to myself like a madwoman as I paced.
Dozens of humans go to the Hive every year. Old, young, men, women, few had some wealth, most were poor. The vampires of the Hive didn’t care. We’re just blood to them. Sustenance.
And the Crown didn’t either, as long as our nocturnal neighbors were appeased.
As a high-born lady, it was my birthright, my privilege, to choose my death. One that the nobles of Illica usually took advantage of, despite knowing it was ultimately seen as a selfish or cowardly choice. I circled my thumbs together. Had a noble ever chosen the Hive over the axe?
I couldn’t recall. Was it the threat of becoming dinner that sent them to the executioner’s blade or the idea of living without their inherited comforts?
For me, it was the former.
Equal parts guilt and dread crept through my limbs, like a vine strangling a tree. None of it was fair. A sharp pitch filled my ears with the impending day.
The lonely chair groaned underneath my weight as I carefully sat where the Traveler had perched the night before. I hated myself for the lingering memories of his dangerously sharp jawline and charmingly crooked grin.
I knew nothing about him except that he didn’t appear at odds with his work and had found a way to survive encounters with the vampires of the Hive.
Could I survive, too?
Even if what the Traveler said was mostly true, it was unlikely…but possible. Maybe the Hive wasn’t all slavery, torture, and death. Maybe their rumors were as grim as my own.
Considering the idea was naivety I should have outgrown, but maybe it was a symptom of my last hours.
I stared, lost in my thoughts. Will I die gracefully or scream out at the last moment as I had seen so many nobles do? Elongated shadows reached out to me, growing with every dip of the sun’s descent to the horizon.
My cell door opened for what would be the last time and jolted me back into the present. The guard, whom I’d become accustomed to, met my eyes and offered a somber smile. “M’lady. Your attendants are here to prepare you.”
A small entourage of Illica guards escorted me in a protective frame down a dim hallway. The sounds of our echoing steps slowly yielded to the growing crowd. My death’s audience.
I had been dressed in a thin, beige gown. My hair was arduously detangled and rebraided before it was pinned to fit beneath a white cap, leaving my neck bare. A view desired by my executioner.
Three swift and powerful steps called my attention.
The end of the ominous concourse hosted a familiar hooded figure, hands folded in front of his deep blue cloak and stormy eyes fixed on me.
“Lady Bergmont.” His warm tone and earthy scent swirled around me.
“Lord Traveler.” The acknowledgement stings my tongue with an acrid taste. If it weren’t for the sake of appearance to those within earshot, he would suffer under my silence.
He exhaled slowly. “Your time is near.”
“It is.” The guards around us shifted with anxious energy. We couldn’t linger here. The Crown demanded my end, and the crowd expected their entertainment.
“Excuse us,” the Traveler said, waving away the guards with the confidence of an old money lord. To my surprise, they listened, moving to line the hall to the courtyard. Piercing eyes swept over me, landing on my bare neck.
“You’re too lovely for death.” The breathless sentiment tumbled from his lips. I was no stranger to compliments, but this was not the time, place, nor person I’d ever expected to receive admiration.
I pinched my brows together as I chided, “My lord, that is highly inappropriate.”
“Maybe. But you’re choosing death, so what does it matter?” A coy smile revealed a small dimple. Restless rabble echoed down the hall. The crowd's impatience sent the torches into a frantic dance.
The impending slice of the axe emboldened me. “You must be desperate. Using flattery as a last resort.”
“Desperate? No.” His smile fell. “But I do wish you’d reconsider.”
“I will not,” I said without pause.
His small frown deepened. “Are you always this stubborn, Reyva?”
His insulting familiarity earned him my pointed glare.
“Lady Bergmont,” I corrected him.
He gently took one of my hands between his and quietly amended himself, “Please. Reconsider, Lady Bergmont.”
For a moment, I lost myself in the gesture. In the warmth of his grasp, in the depths of the seas ebbing and flowing in his irises.
I snatched my hand away. His flattery and pleading hadn’t moved me. No, I’ve made my decision, if only to end the incessant, anxious buzz thrumming through my veins.
“All my options lead to death. At least this one will be swift and by my own choice.” My comment earned a subtle grin from the Traveler.
Yes. We’re still playing this game. Right until the end.
“Maybe. Maybe not. I suppose you’ll never know. Best of luck in your travels to the next life, Lady Bergmont.” He bowed, and I returned an equal gesture before excusing myself.
With that, I put the handsome, devious Traveler behind me. His scent filled the small corridor like an echo from the woods. Leather, moss, fresh rain, and pine. I committed it to memory and made a silent pledge to ignore any other unpleasant aromas in the coming moments.
“Do me the kindness of wishing me safe travels as well.”
I paused and looked back at him with a composed mask. Beneath, confusion and worry tangled together like a cord woven for a noose. The Traveler had proven himself dangerously clever and, yet again, caught me unprepared.
“I’m off to visit your older sister. Cova is it?”
My blood ran cold.
He rubbed at the stubble of his chin. “And your niece. But I’ve forgotten her name…”
My heart nearly stopped.
“Oh, come now. No witty retort?”
“Why?” My frosty tone snaked from my throat with a hiss. He had all the power, and he knew it. The ominous silence hung for too long. I pressed him again, baring my teeth this time. “Why?”
The Traveler closed our gap in two easy strides. He leaned his head down, and a breathy whisper danced across my ear, “We both know you weren’t truthful last night. About your prayers or your hidden talents.”
If we weren’t being watched by a dozen guards and an impatient magistrate, I would have slapped him. What’s the worst they could do if I did? Kill me?
But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Because I needed to know what he intended to do if I did go through with my execution.
“Let’s pretend, hmm?” I craned my neck to look at him, senses ablaze. “What does that have to do with my family?”
A perfect chorus of teeth emerged between his lifted lips. “Your heritage is special, but not completely unique. If you insist on death, it’s a loss, but not one the Hive can’t recover from. There are others. Other special…living…women from your family they can choose from.”
I clenched my jaw. Rage barrelled through my bloodstream and my heart hammered so violently, I thought the Traveler could hear it.
This was his move all along. Either I would agree and go with him, or he would take my sister.
She’d committed no crime, but if the Hive wanted her, they would find a way.
Cova knew about my gift but had never spoken of any magic of her own.
She wouldn’t have risked her reputation.
I’d had my suspicions about Lydia. There was something about being near her—even as infrequent as our visits were—that made the constant hum of magic within me feel safe around her.
Like it had permission to exist. Cova, on the other hand, sent the thrum into hiding, sometimes silencing it altogether.
“They have nothing to offer you,” I warned in a harsh whisper.
The Traveler’s hood threatened to fall as he tipped his head side to side. “That remains to be seen. Then again, the Hive would not need either of them if you agree to come with me.”
He was still playing games, but I’d reached a threshold.
No more.
A jolt lashed within my chest, and I clenched my hands into fists. Time to think had run out.
“No.” My voice cracked as helplessness swarmed me.
“Hmm? What was that, lovely?” His nose delicately brushed my cheek as he antagonized me.
His woodsy scent unfurled fantasies of the Traveler waist deep in a forest stream. Glistening rivulets of water trickled down his broad shoulders as he beckoned for me to join.
Compose yourself.
I shook my head and cleared my throat, still trying to determine if this was a strong bluff or an actual threat. I wanted—no, needed—my death to be of my own choosing. In a life where my choices were taken, I had power in this.
“Safe travels to you then,” venom dripped from my whisper.
“Dommik.” He placed a hand on his chest as he introduced himself with a sinister, close-lipped smile, as if his name would matter.
“Lord Traveler.” A final nod and I turned to face my death. An amused chuckle rolled behind me. Our game was done. My life, forfeit.
Even if Dommik’s words were true, I had one chance to warn Cova, and I must take it.
As confidently as I could, I pushed forward. The nearly poetic light at the end of the tunnel guided me to the impatient crowd. Murmurs crystallized as I approached the door to the courtyard.
Royal guards, brandished in Illica’s stately gold, lined the corridor. They stood at the ready in case the dangerous criminal sorceress tried to attack or escape. I wondered how I’d earned such a terrifying reputation when I had to clasp my hands to stop them from shaking.