Commander Rakim then sat in the ornamental chair that looked too small for his massive frame. He rested his palm on Naasir’s snout and the dragon gave a huff in response but did not open his eyes. Rakim then gestured to a man I hadn’t noticed before, who stood off to the side of the stage.
The man wore a long green tunic trimmed in silver. I guessed him to be a steward of some kind as he stepped up and unrolled a long piece of parchment. His high nasally voice was also amplified by a stone at his throat, so the entire crowd could hear him as he spoke. “Step forward as your name is called. Your crimes against the crown shall be read, and then you may have a moment to plead your case before your sentence is declared.” He didn’t even bother to look at us as he spelled out our fate.
My entire body ached, especially my feet, and despite the dire circumstances I was currently in, all I wanted was to curl up in a ball and sleep. It took all my will to convince my legs to remain standing. I refused to show weakness. Weakness got you killed.
“Herek Leeds,” the steward called, and my attention returned to the proceedings.
A tall man three down from me started in surprise. He still looked relatively healthy, and I got the feeling he hadn’t been imprisoned long. One of the guards unlocked him from the connecting chain and yanked him by his handcuffs until he stumbled forward several paces. The man was sweating profusely and kept eyeing the dragon tail that had begun gliding slowly back and forth on the tiles only a dozen paces away.
Holt and the other guards moved the rest of us off to the side, and I hissed in pain as the manacles cut into my connected wrists, where they hung at my side.
“You stand convicted of petty thievery and resisting arrest,” the steward intoned, staring down his nose at the man. “And you have currently served two months of your five-year sentence, is this correct?”
The man nodded vigorously, “Ye-yes . . . Yes, sir. I believe that’s how long it’s been.”
“And have you—?”
“What did you steal?” Commander Rakim cut in. His voice was low as he spoke, but due to the stone he could still be heard throughout the square. His stare was intent on the man as he waited for an answer.
The prisoner appeared startled at being addressed by the dragon rider. “Some . . . some fruit from a st-stall in the lower city market.”
“And why did you do this?”
“I lost my job at the quarry, and I couldn’t find work. My wife and son were hungry . . . and . . . and I know I shouldn’t have done it, but I was desperate. I’m sorry.” The man had tears in his eyes now.
Whispers and sympathetic sounds could be heard from the onlookers as his response echoed around the square. Those amplifying stones were strong to encompass such a large area. The call for “Mercy!” could be heard from many in the audience.
My heart went out to the man, but I could not tell if his plea had been good enough for the commander. His expression was hard to decipher as he looked at the man for a moment longer, then to the steward.
“Put his sentence down to time served.” Rakim then looked back to the man. “You’re free to go.”
The crowd erupted in cheers and the man looked stunned, then broke down crying. He was still professing his gratitude as his cuffs were unlocked and he was motioned away as the steward made a note on his parchment.
A small glimmer of hope began to trickle through me as the next man was called forward, and he was also set free. Maybe this dragon rider actually had a heart, unlike most of the powerful men I’d met.
The next man, whose crime had something to do with piracy and robbery wasn’t set free, but his sentence was reduced. The following two were rapists, and the rider increased both their sentences to life in prison, and the one that was a repeat offender received ten lashes as well. As I watched the whipping being carried out, I knew some would think the punishment harsh, but I felt no sympathy for the man. I agreed wholeheartedly with it. If I hadn’t been so quick and skilled with my daggers in the past, I would have shared the same fate as those poor men’s victims, several times over.
Finally, they called the big brute forward, whose name was apparently Skull. No last name. I rolled my eyes.
As his crimes were read, I couldn’t believe how many there were. Rape, assault, murder, and robbery were just a few on the long list. But it was the reason he was caught and thrown into prison that made my insides turn. Evidently, he had been caught standing over the body of his pregnant wife after beating her to death.
It was horrendous. If my mouth hadn’t been so dry, I would have spat on the ground in disgust. The spectators agreed with me, and boos and jeers echoed around us.
I watched the dragon rider’s face as the list was read, and for the first time, he showed true emotion as fury darkened his eyes. But as the steward read what the man had done to his own wife, the fury was replaced with something cold and merciless. A spike of fear raced through me at that look.
Skull wasn’t given a chance to speak. With no warning and no sign that his rider had even given the command, Naasir jerked his head around, opened his jaws and with a mighty roar, released a narrow stream of flames directly at the prisoner. A few of the guards stumbled back as the man was instantly engulfed in the inferno and disintegrated into ash.
Naasir’s mouth snapped shut with a click. And with a final rumble of displeasure, he settled back down next to his rider.
Utter stillness pervaded the square for a few moments until cheers erupted from the crowd in obvious agreement with the sentence. It was into this melee that I heard the steward call my name, and my stomach dropped to the ground.
“Corrine Darrow. Step forward.”
Iwasvaguelyawareof being unlocked from the other prisoners and my feet moving me to stand before the dais. I barely heard the murmurs flying all around me as those watching realized I was a woman.
My hands shook violently in my restraints, causing the chains to clank together as I tried to rid myself of the fear that had overtaken me at the abrupt and brutal death I had just witnessed. My face still felt tight from being so close to the flames, and I couldn’t help but glance down at the burn mark in the tile not two feet in front of me. I fought the urge to rub at the scar on my arm.
Not that the despicable man deserved any less but . . . But now I was the one standing here and it was suddenly very hard to take a deep breath. I could feel the all too familiar panic start to tighten in my chest; a panic I hadn’t dealt with in years, not since I was a child. It felt as if I was right back there, alone, afraid, trying to survive on the street in those difficult first weeks after my mother died.