I stood stoic, closing my eyes as they exposed me yet again—this time for his inspection. He sucked in a breath through clenched teeth, then licked his lips like he was tasting the air.

“A bit more crude than I would have preferred, but it’s enough to plant the illusion.”

“This was your doing?” I hissed, allowing my anger to take over for the broken girl beneath the surface.

“As you well know, I’d planned to do it myself. But our little run-in last night derailed my surprise for the sons of Artos. Speaking of—how is Jase this morning?” A cruel smirk twisted his lips, and I cracked.

“You bastard! I’ll kill you!”

I lunged for him before I could think better of it, my hands going for his throat. Even the light in the room seemed to darken with my wrath, but it was short-lived. Strong arms held me in place as I seethed, desperate to wrap my hands around his throat and watch the life fade from his eyes.

“Humans,” Johan tsked. “Rather emotional creatures, don’t you think?” His entourage laughed at my expense. “Chain her ankles. I don’t want her getting any bright ideas in front of the court. If she cannot uphold decorum, I may need to find that lady’s maid she’s so fond of and hang her along with the others. A little incentive to mind your manners.”

“Go to hell,” I growled as the guards locked the iron shackles around my ankles. My skirts hid them completely as they fell back into place.

“So ungrateful. Here I am, about to give her this beautiful gift, and yet she speaks to me as if I’m not her king.” He stepped in close, waiting to see how far I’d push him.

“I don’t want your gift. Let them go. Then I’ll be thankful.”

“Ha! Let them go? I’m doing you a great service by severing your fated bonds. Then you’ll be free. Free to bear my offspring. Children immune to this terrible plague that’s culling the lesser of our kind. We’ll usher in a new era for Hiraeth. Eventually, you’ll learn to respect me.”

“Nico will kill you before he lets that happen. They all will,” I shot back, allowing myself that small fraction of hope.

“I’ve already apprehended the imposter,” he said coolly.

I studied his face. The deep furrow in his brow, the slight tick in his jaw—he was bluffing. “I don’t believe you.”

“Nico’s capture is a foregone conclusion. You, my lovely, are the bait he cannot resist. Fitting, don’t you think? My consort, single-handedly responsible for the fall of the House of Bruin. The news will spread far and wide. Hiraeth will thank you for cleansing the realm of their bloodline.”

“No matter what you do to this body, I’ll never be yours,” I choked out. It was weak, but it was true. My beasts might die today… because of me.

“Shall we? Let’s not keep our guests waiting.” He reached for my hand and tucked it into his arm, leading me toward the grand wooden doors. My destiny waited just beyond this threshold.

The sunlight was blinding. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust, the muted tones of the courtyard slowly coming into focus. Johan led me onto a raised stone dais, waving to the crowd as we reached the railing.

The sea of people stretched beyond the gates. Peasants in drab clothing stretched out before us. It was sickening, how many had come to watch the execution of innocents. I scanned the crowd for familiar faces, but there were too many.

A wall of guards stood between us and the masses. More were scattered throughout, on high alert, as if they knew danger was already among them. The crudely constructed gallows rose from the center of the courtyard. Six wolfsbane nooses swayed gently in the breeze. Smoke rose from the northern and eastern wings of the castle, but the crowd remained. If anything, the air crackled with a grim anticipation—as if the realm was preparing for destinies to be made or lost this day.

Johan lifted his arms, and the crowd fell silent. He let the moment stretch, milking the tension before finally shouting, “Bring them out!”

An ominous drumbeat echoed through the courtyard and the crowd erupted. A smug smile curled Johan’s lips as they came into view.

A line of battered servants stumbled onto the gallows, their tunics torn, faces bloodied, hands bound with wolfsbane ties.

Rook.

My breath caught. The young page who had helped Mirabelle dress me the night of the Crownspire. His solemn gaze found mine as they pushed him into place, fitting the noose around his neck. Despite it all, defiance burned in his eyes. The sight gave me strength, even as my tears fell.

An old sage stepped onto the platform, pushing up his sleeves before addressing the accused. “We commit your souls to the Divine, to cast their ultimate judgment. Let your spirits find peace beyond the veil, carried upon your sacred breath. In life, they stood against the crown. In death, may they stand before you. So it is spoken. So it shall be.”

“Let this be a lesson to all who would conspire against my reign,” Johan bellowed. He raised a gloved hand.

A black-masked executioner yanked the lever. All six dropped.

I flinched as Rook’s body jerked, his strangled gasp lost beneath the crowd’s collective exhale. The ropes creaked. Their feet twitched. One by one, the fight left them, until they hung limp, swaying like broken marionettes.

Bile burned in my throat. I wanted to scream. To fight. But I was frozen. Useless. Shackled and forced to watch the slow unraveling of everything I held dear.