4. CHAPTER FOUR
“Wake up.”
Alena’s eyes snapped open. Two armed guards were standing above her, and neither leathery face showed any hint of kindness.
They unfettered her hands. Her muscles cramped and prickled after being restrained for so long. She bit her lip, stifling a cry, as the guards pushed her out of the tent. The sunrise blinded her, and Alena baulked, shielding her eyes, but the guards shoved her forward.
“Move!”
They dragged her through the camp, heedless of her aching body.
For two days, she’d remained seated in the same position, her hands tied to a wooden pole. Demetrius and his men had left her in one of the storage tents with only goatskins for company, all stretched out across rectangular wooden frames, ready for their hairs to be scraped off and turned into soft, supple leather.
She hadn’t seen anyone except a guard when she needed to relieve herself, and also Demetrius, who”d visited twice a day with water and food but had refused to answer any questions.
Seated on the hardpacked earth in silence, her limbs had long since gone numb, and her mind had fared no better.
She’d cried for hours, the guilt of her father’s death consuming her from within. She couldn’t imagine a world without him, without his cryptic answers to her endless questions about the Old Lands, nor his calming words to soothe Katell’s brash temper.
Her sister would be heartbroken. Their father had taught her how to hunt, track, and fight. Katell had a natural instinct for weaponry, and they’d spent days out on the steppe, just the two of them. Alena had tried to train with her sister, but Katell possessed as much patience as Alena did when Elder Ignatius lectured her about upholding the Sacred Law.
Katell might not have voiced her thoughts, but Alena had come to accept her sister’s disappointment. They shared few interests, as Katell didn’t care for stories from the Old Lands or histories of the Achaean Kingdoms. The Achaeans’ twelve gods and the Rasennan Empire’s warfare across the Great Sea were as distant as another world for her.
Only their father cared enough about the Old Lands to impart his knowledge onto Alena, and now, he was gone.
Pillars of smoke rose from the tents around her, and only the distant bleating of sheep broke the early morning silence of the camp. The elders’ pavilion tent towered over the centre of the camp. The guards hurried towards it.
Concern clouded Alena’s thoughts. They should have taken her straight to the Council. Why were the elders involved?
Once inside, the tent was sealed shut, plunging them into the dim candlelight. On the raised dais, six elders had convened, robed and solemn, their lips drawn into taut, resolute lines. Only Elder Ubii was missing.
Alena’s mouth ran dry. Elder Yorn’s warm smile, which always put her at ease, had vanished. The older woman sat straight in her chair, her ashen hair bound in a tight braid and her gaze averted.
The guard pulled Alena closer, his grip on her arm never softening for an instant.
Demetrius was nowhere to be seen, and none of the other councilmen were present either. Octavia and her father, however, stood beside the dais. Octavia’s rosy complexion had turned pallid, and her eyes were rimmed red. Her father’s hostile stare tracked Alena like prey.
Elder Ignatius, a tall man with long, braided white hair, got to his feet. His lined face, bled dry of emotion, had always intimidated Alena. His black coat, embroidered with red and silver thread, indicated his elevated status as leader of the elders. Many followed his guidance, even among the Council.
Unfortunately for Alena, ever since Katell’s disastrous encounter with a prospective husband, Elder Ignatius had held a grudge against their family.
“Alena, daughter of Damocles, after much discussion of your crimes, the elders have come to a decision regarding your punishment.”
Alena’s heart stilled, then plummeted to the pit of her stomach. There would be no trial, no opportunity for her to defend herself. Her fate had already been decided.
Elder Ignatius carried on, his sharp voice cutting through the stifling silence of the tent. “Considering the severity of your crime—breaking the Sacred Law by planning to bring a Marked one into our camp—the elders have agreed that a death sentence was most appropriate.”
Blood rushed to Alena’s ears, and white spots dotted her vision. She swayed, and only the guard’s grip on her arm kept her from collapsing to her knees.
“Today the camp will attend Councilman Damocles’ funeral and mourn for him. Your sentence will, therefore, be carried out tomorrow.” Although Elder Ignatius bowed his head, his expression betrayed no hint of sorrow. “May his ancestors watch over him for all eternity.”
“May his ancestors watch over him for all eternity,” the other elders echoed.
Alena sucked in deep breaths, her mind spinning. Death? Because she had tried to save her father, she deserved death?
Elder Ignatius’ gaze fixed on her. “Any final words?”
“May I attend the lighting of the pyre?” Her voice came out weak, no more than a whisper. She searched for any hint of sympathy among the elders but found none.
Elder Ignatius scowled. “We will not tolerate one of our most sacred ceremonies being defiled by a criminal.”
“But—”
“Silence!” His posture went rigid. “You shall never again set foot on Camp Bessi’s sacred ground, and that is final.”
The other elders murmured in agreement.
Alena ground her teeth and dug her nails into her palms to steady herself. How could they treat her this way? She might have broken the law but she hadn’t caused any real harm. She’d only wanted to save her father.
Tears welled up in her eyes. “What of the hunters?”
If there was one person she could always count on for help, it was Katell. Despite their differences, they remained close, their sisterhood a sanctuary for shared secrets and dreams.
“The hunters have not yet returned. I am afraid your sister will not make it back in time.”
Elder Ignatius’ words shattered any hope she had left, leaving her numb and defeated. It was over. She was to be executed at dawn without even seeing Katell one last time. She’d failed to save their father and now she wouldn’t even have the opportunity to ask her sister for forgiveness.
If only she’d been a better healer. Or cleverer with her plan to find the Marked healer. Or strong enough to fight back…
Elder Ignatius turned to Octavia’s father. “Please, leave us.”
The man nodded and led his daughter away. When Octavia’s wide gaze lingered on her, no doubt a silent plea for understanding, Alena shot her a scathing look.
Even knowing Alena’s impending fate, Octavia had remained silent. She’d revealed herself as anything but a true friend. Should Katell ever discover Octavia and her father’s actions, there would be no escape from her vengeful fury.
“It’s a shame, really.” Atop the dais, Elder Ignatius’ scornful gaze bore down on Alena. “I must admit, I was surprised when I learned you had broken the Sacred Law. You were such a sweet girl, Alena. Simply much too curious for your own good.” His voice, laced with false concern, made her skin crawl.
She clamped her mouth shut. Any retort would only make matters worse.
“I cautioned your father against teaching you to read. It encouraged you to inquire about the Old Lands and the Marked ones. Marrying you off last summer would have been the better solution, but did he listen to us? No.”
Alena had spent the summer learning the art of healing with her father, and not once had he mentioned marriage. How many times had he protected her from the elders’ demands without her knowledge?
“It is unsurprising that your father’s stubbornness has caused your family so much misfortune,” Ignatius went on. “Now your sister will have no choice. With a dead father and a lawbreaker sister, she’d be lucky to receive even a single marriage proposal before the lunar festival.”
Alena’s fingers curled at her sides. How dare he? How dare he come after Katell when every winter she”d risked her life, time after time, to feed the camp?
“My sister doesn’t care for your marriage proposals,” she snapped, raising her head. A few of the onlookers gasped. Disrespect wouldn’t help her cause, but she refused to let him slander her family. “She’s the best huntress among the Freefolk and will claim our father’s seat on the Council when she returns. If you want to punish me because of my mistakes, so be it. But leave Katell out of it.”
Elder Ignatius’ eyes widened, and his nostrils flared. “Silence her!”
Without delay, a guard struck her in the face. Sharp pain bloomed across her skin, and she fell to her knees on the coarse rug with a cry. Her ears rang, and her vision blurred as something warm trickled down her face.
“How dare you speak to us so? You are nothing but a lawbreaker—a criminal.”
Alena wiped her nose with a trembling hand. It came away smeared with blood. When she glanced up, a shimmer in the candlelight caught her attention. Her mother’s golden torc adorned one of the elders’ necks.
The necklace belonged to her family, and the elders had stolen it.
Her temper flared, heating her blood. They’d declared her a criminal while helping themselves to everything inside her bag.
“Where did you get that?” she demanded.
Elder Ignatius followed her line of sight, facing the man seated to his left. “We found it. Did you steal it from the Marked woman?”
She pushed herself up from the floor, a storm brewing inside her. “It belonged to my mother.” The words erupted out of her. “You have no right.”
“Wrong.” Elder Ignatius’ thin lips twisted into a smile. “As a lawbreaker, all your possessions now belong to the camp.”
He was lying. Her father had taught her well. Freefolk law was quite clear when it came to inheritances: upon their father’s death, Katell had become head of the family, and as such, all their possessions were hers now.
However, it seemed the law no longer applied to the elders.
“It belongs to my sister,” Alena said through her teeth, “and if she were here, it would be placed on the pyre with my father.”
The two elders exchanged glances. “We will discuss the matter with her when she returns.”
More lies.
Alena refused to let herself be duped by their false promises. It was as if seeing the torc had lifted a veil from her eyes, exposing her mind to their injustices. “You’re lying.”
A guard grabbed her shoulder, pulling her back, but she thrashed against his grip. “You have no intention of discussing it with Katell—or anyone else, for that matter. Why isn’t the Council here? Only they can deliberate on camp matters and decide my punishment. Without them, this whole assembly is a farce!”
It didn’t matter what they did to her now, so long as she could speak her truth. “What do you think will happen when the Council and Katell find out?” Her voice filled the tent, drowning out the elders’ protests. “I might have sought the Marked healer’s help, but she never made it to camp. My actions don’t warrant a death sentence, and you know it. You’re concealing the incident to prevent more rumours about Marked ones. But no matter what you preach, the gods are real, and we all know it. Instead, you selfishly protected yourselves and left my father to die. That makes you lawbreakers. All of you!”
The dais erupted into gasps and shouts, and Elder Ignatius blanched. The guard twisted Alena’s arm, wrestling her to the ground. The air whooshed out of her chest, and the rough carpet scraped her skin. Pain radiated through her body, causing her muscles to strain, and she bit back a cry.
Still, she wouldn’t give in. “Where is the Council? You have no right!”
“Shut your mouth.” The guard dug his knee into her back, crushing her lungs.
“Give it back,” she wheezed. “It belonged… to my mother… Give it back.”
Elder Ignatius pointed towards the tent flaps, teeth bared. “Get her out of our sight!”
The guards hoisted Alena from the ground by the arms and hair. She didn’t feel the pain. She didn’t see anything but the glinting necklace around the elder’s neck.
“You have no right!” She fought with every breath she had—for her father, for her sister, for her life—until a brutal blow to the back of her head turned the world black.