CHAPTER 23
DIFFERENT DIRECTIONS
All trials for crimes against the realm shall be held in Vallenna City before the High Council. The accused’s House may petition for trial to be conducted within their own lands, subject to Council approval.
– Vallennan Law, Statute XVII, Subsection IV
They wrenched Sebastian’s shoulders back until fire shot through his muscles. The nightshade ropes bit into his wrists, the all-too-familiar deadening spreading through his veins. His magic guttered. Died. Rage and helplessness warred inside him. He’d never needed it more – and it was gone.
Someone ripped the satchel from him.
“They’re all here,” a voice said.
Three Shards. Taken.
He barely felt it. Didn’t care. All that mattered was–
Kara.
He caught one final glimpse of her, as she was thrown onto a valmare. Her eyes found his. Wide. Terrified. But defiant. Even bound, even surrounded, she held her head high.
Then she disappeared. Towards the City.
They shoved him forward, dragging him through the mud like he was nothing, like he wasn’t Sebastian fucking Thorne, until they forced him to stop on his knees in front of a dark carriage. One of them forced his head down roughly.
“Don’t bother fighting, traitor. The trial’s ceremony – the pyre is real enough,” the soldier spat, voice dripping with contempt.
Several hands threw him bodily into the iron-barred carriage. He hit the floor hard, his bound arms useless to break his fall. Pain tore through his ribs, the breath knocked out of his lungs. For a heartbeat he couldn’t move, his body refusing him – and the humiliation of it burned.
No. Get up.
Rage dragged him upright onto his knees.
He looked up. One of his father’s lieutenants – a man who’d fought beside him in the Southern Isles – looked down with something like pity.
“You should have left the healer out of it,” he muttered just before he slammed the door.
The lock clicked shut and the world shrank to solid walls and pitch blackness.
“Kara!” The word ripped out of him, raw and ragged.
He hurled himself against the carriage wall, shoulder first. The wood shuddered but held. He struck again. Harder. Fire shot through his ribs. His vision blurred.
He didn’t care.
His wrists bled where the ropes bit deeper with every movement, blood sliding warm down his hands.
Still, he fought.
He felt her – somewhere ahead – a tug in his chest that had nothing to do with the Shards and everything to do with the woman they were taking from him.
With every slam into the wood, his body screamed, but fury was stronger. His boot left a dent in the panel. The cage rattled violently with each blow. The bastards outside only laughed.
“Your Hale whore can’t hear you, Lord Thorne,” one jeered through the bars.
The wheels clattered hard over stone, tilting him against the wall. He braced, teeth gritted – and listened. He knew these roads. They weren’t heading south to Vallenna City. They were dragging him east. Back to Thorne. Away from Kara.
Through the fog of rage, one thought clawed at him, savage and merciless:
She’s alone. She’s in their hands. They’ll kill her.
Watching them drag her away had brought everything into focus.
He cared about her more than Vallenna.
More than the Shards.
More than the vision, the prophecy–
More than anything.
He bared his teeth and threw himself against the door again. Fell. Hit it again. His wrists burned. He didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.
About one thing he was certain.
He had to save her.
He would save her.
And he would make them bleed for ever laying hands on her.
The night air tore at Kara’s face as the valmare pounded southward.
The soldier – Cade, she’d heard another call him – gave her no room to move, his arms tight around her waist as she sat in front of him.
He’d bound her hands to the saddle horn and every hoofbeat jarred her shoulders with sharp bursts of pain.
“You’re quiet,” Cade sneered. “Thinking about your traitor? Was he worth it? All this?”
She stared hard at the road ahead. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer.
Sebastian is worth everything.
He chuckled. “Found you two all cosy by that tree, didn’t we?”
The memory flashed in her mind, Sebastian’s hand in hers, his temple against her hair, and her heart broke. But she heard Sebastian’s voice in her mind:
Say nothing. Don’t rise to it. Don’t give him what he wants.
“His father may have insisted we take him home for his trial, but that won’t change anything.”
They’re taking him to Thorne?
Cade didn’t stop. “Thorne’s golden son will be executed within the week... a shame really, he was quite the fighter.”
Her breath left her, but she forced her chin up, refusing to give him the flinch he wanted.
“Shall I tell you how they’ll do it, Healer?”
No, please don’t–
“The noose is too good for him. Too quick. It’ll be the pyre. A spectacle,” Cade said, matter-of-fact. “They’ll drag him to the square, bind him to the stake, build kindling at his feet.” He paused, savouring the image. “Then the order comes, and the torch drops.”
She saw it, too easily. Sebastian forced to the pyre, waiting for the flames.
Stop. Don’t think it.
Cade’s tone stayed flat, official. “It burns slow. He’ll feel every lick of fire before the smoke takes him. That’s how traitors die.”
No, no–
“I wonder how long before he screams.” His voice dropped. “Maybe the traitor will even scream for you.”
“He’s not a traitor,” she hissed, the words tearing out of her.
He yanked the valmare to a halt. She lurched forward, nearly thrown. He grabbed her roughly by the arm and hauled her back upright. Behind, riders swore at the delay.
“Tell that to the people of Navyr,” he snarled.
Another valmare drew alongside them. An older rider upon its back. Clearly a higher rank. Markus. She recognised him.
“That’s enough, Sergeant. No talking with the prisoner,” he barked. Kara glanced at him – there was something akin to pity in his face. It was worse than Cade’s cruelty. Because pity meant he knew. He knew what was waiting for Sebastian. What was waiting for her. And nothing could stop it.
“Yes, Captain,” Cade muttered, and fell sullenly silent.
They rode on at a merciless pace. The valmares hooves thundered past a sleeping village, shuttered homes, people safe in their beds. None of them knew she was out here, bound, being dragged to her death.
The captain rode ahead, re-joining the front of the column. When he was out of earshot, Cade bent close again. She shivered – every moment near this man was agony.
“He might have escaped if he wasn’t worried about you.”
The words sank in. Her stomach lurched, nausea filling her.
No. That’s not – I didn’t–
But there was truth in it. Sebastian had hesitated when they’d put the knife to her throat. The seconds had cost him. She jerked against the ropes but they held fast. Anything to get away from the sound of Cade’s voice.
He laughed at her feeble attempts, chuckling darkly, “Oh, fight the ropes, Healer, if it makes you feel better.”
Kara swallowed hard, eyes stinging as the tears fell.
Stop crying.
You’re giving him what he wants.
He leant forward, spoke low and cruel into her ear. “Sebastian Thorne will burn because of you.”
Stop it. STOP IT.
She clenched her bound hands into fists, furious, terrified, and hating herself.
This was my fault.
She pushed the thought away and forced the words in her mind, over and over. Not begging. A vow.
The Four, please, if you hear me – don’t let them kill him. Save him. Save Sebastian.
I swear it – I’ll do anything.
Anything.