Page 120 of Thorn Season
Nobody ever did.
My specter writhed with violent memory.Sunlight on steel and a wet, heaving torso. Erik’s sharp laughter, shaving out into the air. And open, voiceless mouths—such resounding silence—
But this wasn’t the Opal. There were no cracked cobblestones to drink up the blood tonight. The blood would puddle on the marble and seep up my skirts, marring me. Damning me.
If your beloved husband-to-be delivered the same sentence to another, what would you do?
I thought I’d known the answer. But as Junius bowed his head and began praying, I knew I couldn’t bear to watch the light drain from those shrewd, earnest eyes.
I grabbed Erik’s jacket with my free hand, forcing him to face me. Someone in the crowd gasped.
“You can’t execute your own nobles,” I said with vicious finality.
Erik looked down at my fist, curled against his chest. His hand lifted, and I flinched without meaning to. But he didn’t strike me; he stroked those shockingly cold knuckles down my cheek in a caress.
“You misunderstand, my love. Nobody is being executed tonight.” Cruel anticipation glazed his eyes. “There is no suffering in death.”
My specter lurched at the words.
Erik started to pull away, but I heaved him back. I’d told Tari I could sway the king—I’dbelievedI could. Now I had to prove it.
“Junius’s mother is the ruling lady of Dawning,” I said, voice low. “If you harm him, you will lose her allegiance forever. How will we ever achieve more than your predecessors if we can’t keep our kingdom united?” And because Erik’s gaze sparked hungrily at my phrasing—our kingdom—I dared to press closer. I made myself go loose against him in a last, desperate attempt, and whispered, “Gods cannot stand alone.”
A pause. Erik’s eyes narrowed, flicking doubtfully over my face. He raised the hand still holding mine and adjusted his grip to enclose both my wrists.
I tensed; he’d seen through me. And now he would toss me to my knees beside Junius. I heard the guards shifting behind us and knew that Keil had moved closer.
Then, branching one hand into my hair to angle my head back, Erik brought his mouth down on mine.
I gasped, and he swallowed the sound. My body went rigid. Faraway, the crowd was rustling—growing louder—and my specter,my specter—
Erik released me as the first waves of power rolled across my skin. I began to tremble. If he touched me again, it would be over.
“Lady Alissa is a wise and compassionate woman,” Erik declared. “She has counseled mercy for the lord. On this night, I am inclined to heed her counsel.”
The congregation gave a unanimous sigh, and Erik was smiling at me like I was the most precious thing in the world. His figure wavered beyond the gauzy layers of my specter, now shimmering around me like heat off a blaze.
Erik turned to a still-kneeling Junius, whose eyes shone with tears.
“Of course,” Erik murmured, “there remains the question of who will receive your punishment.”
The crowd went silent. I couldn’t process the words.
Then Erik gestured to his guards, and they yanked Quincy between them.
“No!” Junius thrashed against his jailors. “Please, Your Majesty. Punish me! It was my fault!”
Junius was wrong. This was my fault—all of it,my fault.
“The man is innocent!” Keil’s voice boomed out. More guards had come to stand between us.
“Cease!” one of them barked. “Or we will restrain you.”
Keil’s eyes glinted, knife-sharp. “You can try.”
My specter palpitated, fogging my vision. My ears popped from the strain of holding it back.
Junius was still pleading. Quincy had wriggled from the guards and was crawling to me.“Please, my lady, don’t let them hurt me. Please, my lady—”
