Page 53 of Ember and Eclipse
Themusicfaded,andguards were already moving the crowd to create ample space in the center of the room. She and Asear, some of his advisors, and members of his kingsguard were on one side while the rest of the assembly was on the other.
She searched that crowd, convincing herself she wasn’t looking for a tall, silver-haired hunter. Regardless, she didn’t see him in it. He probably left already. And though that thought shouldn’t have led to the next, it did. She had not a single ally. Not a single person who would do anything to help her. Calliope may feel bad for her, may treat her with kindness, and remind her to keep her wits, but when it came down to it, she wouldn’t go against Asear.
And she didn’t blame her.
Asear motioned to someone, and there was a flurry of activity that she couldn’t quite see. Then, letting her go, he stepped forward.
Clearing his throat, he launched into a well-planned speech. “Romul has survived due to the ethos that anyone who dares to stand against us, attack us, threaten our families and great nation can know that we will always respond in kind. Our victory in Dornstrum proves that. Our verygreatnessproves that. We are, after all, the greatest nation this realm has and will ever know.”
There were murmurs of assent.
“I know that, as an Imperator, my tactics are often questioned. And though I have to be able to drown out the noise of the masses in order to do what I know is correct, that doesn’t mean I don’t trulyhearyou. Your concerns of not only the witches in the north, but in the south as well, have been heard. As rumors circulated about Witch Country having their eyes set on bringing Romul down, I can understand these fears.”
Did anyone even have concerns about the witches in the south? But that was the thing about Asear Othonos—he was likable, charismatic, and had an undeniable presence and strength to him. The people loved him, theytrustedhim. He was telling them he’d heard their concerns, and even if they didn’t know it was something to be concerned about, they were grateful to have such an impressive leader who listened to them. That, seemingly, cared about them.
It was hard to make a villain out of someone like that. They were being manipulated and, in the end, would thank him for it.
“Witch Country and Romul, we thought, had an unspoken arrangement. Our military and borders don’t push south of Heigar’s Pass, and they don’t enter Romulan territory.
“I have a regiment positioned in Heigar’s Pass, methodically taking the mountains and pushing the brutes that live there out. They may not be our enemy, but they are unwilling to cooperate. A thorn in our great nation’s side that we have long let fester.
It isn’t about the Monsos, though. I did not do this out of hatred or greed, but because two moons ago, witches from the south,fromWitch Country, were sent here to try and end my life.”
There were gasps and muttering coupled with brusque orders and shuffling feet. Rel moved to see what was happening. They led them out, their bare feet shuffling across the smooth dance floor. Black cloths covered their heads, and witchsilver bound their hands behind their backs. They were filthy and bruised on every part she could see. Guards forced them to their knees in a line before those gathered and revealed their faces. They were gagged, and their features haggard and grim.
Rel didn’t recognize them, but dread spread through her with a dawning realization. The middle witch looked like her. Her hair was a darker red with less orange, and her skin was paler than hers, but there were similarities that she couldn’t ignore.
This was not only an execution, but it was also athreat.
The chamber’s sounds became drowned out by the dull roar of her blood rushing in her ears. She looked around the room at the sea of masked onlookers, searching for a single ally, anyone that would see through what Asear was doing. The masks were garish, warping and shifting to make them appear like bloodthirsty beasts. She understood the reason for the masks now. They were displays of loyalty of all the people that the Othonos’ rule had made rich with their conquests and crusades. There were more of them than she ever realized.
But more importantly, it was for this—they could participate, little by little, in violence and brutality, all while feeling like someone else. Anonymous. Faceless.
Not one person flinched or was bothered as they brought blocks for the prisoners to place their necks on. Some even stood on their tiptoes or whispered excitedly to their partners.
“I’ve heard your concerns, and I want you to witness firsthand the might of Romul. If you care not to see this display, I bid you to leave now.”
Rel watched as only a couple of people left, apologizing as if they were leaving the theater in the middle of a show.
The executioner, dressed in black with a red hood, stepped behind the first prisoner. He was a mage, and she could easily envision him being her father, her brother, her friend. Had they committed any crimes? Or were they just part of Asear’s agenda? Were they even witches?
The first strike hit too low, digging into the mage’s back as he let out a bloodcurdling scream muffled only by the cloth in his mouth. Rel took a faltering step forward, but Asear grabbed her arm to hold her in place. “Watch,” he hissed.
It took three more hacks before the mage’s head rolled.
The executioner lumbered toward the woman next, the one who held an eerie resemblance to her. The witch trembled, her neck outstretched, hoping it would be a clean blow. But she wasn’t looking down—her head was turned to the side, staring at the mage beside her. And he was looking at her, speaking around the gag.
Lovers? Family?
Something came over her, and Rel was moving before she could think better of it. She grabbed a knife from a nearby guard’s waist and dodged him as he tried to grab her. Asear caught her upper arm, but when she turned, dagger raised threateningly, he let her go, his features hardening.
The crowd let out gasps and cries. Rel had just threatened their leader’s life in front of them.
Well, if she was going to die this day, she might as well make it worth it. She dashed to the center, but the executioner blocked her path before she could get to the witch.
He paused, looking from her to the Imperator.
“Rel,” Asear warned from somewhere behind her, barely containing the rage she knew too well.
