Chapter 11
Kassiel
“Get on with it, Kassiel.” Orlin glares at me, his lip pulled on one the corner as if he had snarled at me instead.
My free hand tightens and I imagine that my fingers are wrapped around his throat. “Gods I really wish he’d die.” The low whisper is practically growled out from my throat. Fuck, what if she heard?
She doesn’t look at me as I place the noose around her neck. It caresses her throat in ways that make me feel things that leave me far too confused. I did not expect that when I cinched the rope around the dainty column.
Her creamy skin consumes my thoughts, even now, as I stand here watching this perfect woman bear the weight of a rebellion that would have her perform the role of a martyr.
“Boo. Kassiel. I was hoping it would be a slower death for her, loosen it up friend!” Venom dripping from Rion’s words cause her expression to twist, her gaze hardens as her jaw sets.
He’s watching her, amusement darkening in his soulless eyes. “May the Goddess send you to Haldir where your soul will be frayed and torn to bits for the scavengers of the pit to feast upon.”
Unexpectedly she spits at the man, her eyes locked on him, unblinking. She’s ferocious, especially when chained. Only she would choose defiance in her last moments.
I release her quickly. If I stand here any longer I’m worried what I’ll reveal of myself. My shadows are already threatening to peel from my skin and hide her from their view. Orlin and Rion mean to make her a play thing. I’ve seen how far they’ll allow their violence to go.
If Orlin witnesses me softening to her, he would move to harm her in more ways, even if she were dead.
He’s already suspicious of me. When he learned that I’d convinced King Euron that a slow death, like hanging, would unsettle worse among The Hidden, Orlin immediately accused me of being weak. That I’d allowed her beauty to sway me.
He fought me until King Euron unleashed his usually well contained rage.
Furniture was overturned and King Euron brought out his lashing whip and bore down on Orlin until everyone in the room was splattered by his blood.
Orlin, of course, took it dutifully. He’d healed quickly due to our Nasc Gal bonding, but I could still feel the tension through our linked tether.
He still blamed me for his punishment and the last thing I needed was him to realize that he was right.
She had weakened me.
The morbid arousal of knowing I can never have her, mixed with this need to be near her confuses me, enrages me. I thought I’d gotten past whatever this is.
Her tear—filled eyes keep scanning the crowd causing my resolve to crumble little by little. She’s searching for salvation, a savior, one which she won’t find. Even if I had it in me to kill everyone in this crowd and run away with her, she’d never truly be free.
I can’t save her anymore than I can save myself.
Those pale sky eyes land on mine as tears slip down her rosy cheeks. I can see her breaking, her soul fracturing with realization. It kills me to know I can only stand here and make sure it’s a clean death followed by a respectable burial.
I won’t let anyone defile her body even after she’s gone. Rion’s pleasure surrounding the whole situation is sickening, and I can’t risk him taking her once her soul has departed.
Knowing the time is upon us, I force my lungs to inhale. Tampering the fire that rampages in my chest, I begin to address Alora.
“Alora Viren. You’re accused of helping the rebellion known as The Hidden, treason, and conspiracy to murder His Majesty the King. You’re accused of inciting unrest and planning to harm the kingdom of Noxia. These crimes are punishable by death.”
Her strength is breathtaking, even as she’s covered in tears and exhaustion.
A woman standing off to my side offers a small cry, clearly unhappy with the brutal scene unfolding.
With a swallow, I continue, “How do you plead to these crimes of which you are accused?”
I shouldn’t care at this moment. I’ve barely had a handful of words with the woman, but the pull of her spirit feels too familiar.
“Guilty.” She speaks the words plainly, not even giving herself a chance to reconsider. The spark in her eye ignites as she stares down at me and adds, “Gladly.”
Bold move, little warrior. She’s impressive. There’s no other way to describe the feral goddess in front of me.
My thoughts rage and war with themselves. The internal conflict makes me feel ashamed and lost. I’m not only betraying my king in these moments, again, but Eiliorah.
I thought I had left any shred of compassion in that damned lake the moment I placed her stiffening body within those holy waters.
Unable to watch the woman on the platform before me fall to her death, I look away.
Coward.
But it’s nearly unbearable to watch an innocent life be stolen away. Every time their eyes glaze over and the light fades from their gaze , it adds another layer of hatred around my heart like a plated armor created from venom, poisoning me slowly.
My fists ball at my sides, clenching and releasing. If only I could just touch her to let her know she isn’t alone right now, not really.
But I won’t, she’s better off without me, better off being dead rather than suffering because of me. I’ll never earn redemption, I’ll never truly be free from the shackles of my life. My penance for killing my naymeih won’t come easily, and I have much to atone for.
A slow, creeping feeling nags at me. It’s too quiet, the air too dense all of a sudden.
Visions of Eiliorah floating in the crystal water, face expressionless, surfaces in my mind. The dark drifting tendrils of my shadows that snake around my wrist as I let her body settle into the greedy waves.
I’m too tired for this, these haunting thoughts which are plaguing me.
I was able to board them up in the farthest recesses of my memories for centuries until recently.
Seeing Alora’s iludreer, her trickery of light, left me speechless.
It was one reason alone King Euron would want her, the whole reason for her capture initially.
And I had somehow kept it to myself, sheltered her for no other reason than I had only ever seen one other with the ability to bend light.
I force myself to look at Alora as I notice the guard’s hand grab the lever to pull the trap door. It’s the least I can do in this moment when I’m as helpless to our fates as she is.
Kassiel.
A revelation I’m not sure I want to dissect, stuns me to my core.
I lose awareness of my limbs, something powerful overtaking my body as I start pushing my way to the front, hopelessness and anguish quickly filling my thoughts.
Distant booming stuns the crowd as they look around, trying to locate the sounds. My eyes are only set on the feisty woman who is about to die.
“Alora!” I bellow, frightening the crowd immediately next to me.
Her eyes crash into mine and the shock written on her face almost has me stumbling.
It’s too late though as I watch the wooden platform give way, her body collapsing through the space in the floor.
I can’t get to her in time. Damnit.
Shoving Rion out of the way to get past, his arm comes around, swinging towards my face, the connection and pain catch me off guard. Rivulets of blood spew out of my nose.
If rage was a color, I’d be painted in it. I grab his throat and start squeezing, this time not bothering to stop when I feel the tunnel of his windpipe crush. If he thinks he can stand in my way he’s sorely mistaken.
Orlin’s heavy boot kicks at my legs repeatedly, though I still have my grip on Rion. He’s come to defend the bastard who’s equally matched with his own vile repulsiveness.
It’s not Orlin’s assault that stops me from ripping away Rion’s essence, it’s the explosions that halt me.
That, and the world tilting, is the only reason I don’t use my curse to finally end the bastard.
Orlin and I are ripped apart as an explosion thunders directly next to us, sending debris and rock showering around us in its wake.
The detonations are so loud I can’t make out screams or any other sounds. I just see people fleeing and fighting.
I notice Rion’s limp body on the ground, fallen not far from me. Taking my heel, I stomp his head as hard as I can muster until I hear a sickening crunch. I repeat my actions again. And again, until his blood is painting me instead of only my rage.
I quickly turn to free Alora from the swaying rope.
I’m at her side in three strides, explosions continuing to reverberate in the streets.
Unsheathing the opaline dagger I found on her after she fell unconscious in the storage house, I slice through the thick rope in seconds.
She’s tinged blue, lips slightly ashen. Setting her down on the ground, I bring my hands to her face, ready to give breath if she needs it as my knees dig into the soil. Her eyes roll beneath her closed lids.
Thank the goddess.
Her chest heaves with an inhale. Staring at her, overcome by what I’ve done for this stranger, confusion sets in. Perhaps they came for her after all, her little group of miscreants.
The chaos around me is deafening. Fires catch on the homes nearest the market square, sending dark plumes of smoke into the sky.
The gray streets are no longer dull and lifeless. They’re sparking bright with rebellion.
It’s not long before I notice a tawny young man with brown hair walking straight for me. He pulls a short sword from behind his back, ready to fight.
I’m to my feet in one swift move and begin to release my shadows. If he wants to attack me while I’m only armed with a damn dagger, then he’s going to learn I won’t fight fair.
At least, that’s what I tell myself is going to happen.
Instead, I’m met with a hard knock to the head, a wooded sound vibrating against my skull, which causes me to fall to my knees. The man paces over to me, with mousy brown hair and freckled skin, holding his sword to my throat.