Page 100 of Captive of the Stolen Empire

“Stop.”

Ryszard’s command was clear. Absolute. But it was not aimed at the man still slinging accusations his way.

I held my breath as he descended the stairs from his box to the ground, ignoring the rain that pelted his crowned head and fur-trimmed clothes. He didn’t flinch as his boots and the hem of his heavy cloak settled into the mud.

“He’ll bring poverty and death to you all, mark my words,” Fernand shouted. “A curse upon us all!”

Fernand…Rope dug into my arms as I tugged against my bindings, unable to move farther than their short stretch allowed.

Ryszard held out his hand to Orson, a look passing between them. The flames vanished. In a breath, Orson flipped his sword into the air, catching the blade in his armored hand. With a bow of his head, he passed the hilt to his emperor.

He took it, showing more strength than I expected from his seasoned form as he entered the arena.

Terror gripped me. For Fernand. For myself. Bile surged up my throat at the certainty of the scene about to unfold. My heart pounded as I looked at my friends in the stands.

Elin buried her face in Gabriel’s chest, but he didn’t look away from the scene. Nor did Reyna, whose face paled fainter than the twin moons. Derrin actively turned the boys away. I might thank him for that one day, if I got the chance.

Blood dripped from Fernand’s wrists as he continued to pull against his own bindings. His hoarse voice turned shrill, raising the hair on the back of my neck. “Rebels rise against him! Join them! End this!”

Metal sliced through the rain as I slammed my eyes shut.

My knees hit the ground.

A scream ended in deadly silence.

Another thump.

A grunt left the emperor as the blade hacked its way home.

Tears stung my eyes and trickled down my face, joining the rain. No one spoke. No sobs. No cheers. Nothing. As if the whole world ceased to breathe and only the cold rain remembered to fall.

Would I be next? A blade in my neck?

Shaking gasps racked my body as I cracked open my eyes.

Ryszard stared down at Fernand’s headless corpse. Blood and tissue dripped from the blade at his side as nature attempted to clear away evidence of the brutal execution.

Abruptly, the rain slowed. Even the Gods and Goddesses did not wish to wash away the stain of this event from the ground.

Ryszard jammed the point of the sword into the muddy soil and turned from his deeds. “Clear away this mess.”

I gagged as the full scene came into view and I looked away. The emperor’s captains rushed to obey. Murmurs picked up again, more audible now that the rain had slowed to a misty drizzle. A few guards rose to their feet and headed for the edge of the stands.

“Take your seats,” Ryszard commanded. “We’re not done yet.”

A shiver racked my body.

He still meant to punish me.

The sound of someone approaching from behind dried my tears in an instant. I wouldn’t let them see me cry. I wouldn’t—

My breath hitched as I twisted toward the footsteps. I’d have fallen if I wasn’t already crouching in the mud.

The last of the rain slid down Lucien’s armor as he strode across the arena. When the tips of his boots nearly touched my knees, he finally stopped, staring down at me as I craned my neck toward the grey sky above.

“Have you come to kill me?” The words croaked out rough, almost strangled.

He knelt before me, drawing near until I could practically taste the indifference radiating off him. “Did you take the letter from my room?”

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