Page 23 of Storm of Desire
"Show them the mark," Stellaninsisted.
The pair of warriors tore the man's shirt down his arms, baring his back. He kicked and fought, but one of them simply captured him by the throat, and hauled him upright, so everyone in the court could see the tattoo on hisback.
A crown encircling a scrollingR.
"For the true prince!" thedreklingyelled, his eyes rolling with fear. Ylve turned and slammed a fist into his gut, and he went down on his knees, choking withpain.
Árdís's fingernails bit into her palms. This didn't happen often. Both the queen and Stellan dealt with such matters swiftly and harshly. But sometimes they decided they needed an objectlesson.
Stellan stared down at the man on the floor. "Thisdreklinghas been found guilty of attempting to break into the prisons and rescue aprisoner—"
"He's yours—"
A hand slammed thedrekling'sface into the floor, and a gag was produced, cutting sharply into hislips.
Another warrior brought a brazier to the dais. The hiss of burning coals made Árdís flinch. There was a hot iron burning white-hot in the center of thecoals.
"Such an act—as well as the tattoo—can only prove where Marek's loyalty lies. And it is not with this court," Stellan said, drawing the end of the brand from the coals. He advanced, taking the steps down from the daisslowly.
Marek's screams were muffled by the edge of the gag as Ylve and Balder flipped him onto hisback.
"He is declared a traitor, and will earn a traitor's death. The bonfire is beingprepared."
Árdís turned her face away as the hiss of burning flesh and muffled screams echoed. Heels drummed on the floor. The stink filled her nostrils. It was too much. She had turned away, pressing her hands to her lips, when Malin—herdreklinghandmaid—suddenly appeared, offering her a scentedhandkerchief.
Árdís curled it in her fist, her eyes meeting the haunted brown depths of her handmaid's. She didn't press the handkerchief to her face, shame flooding through her. She could barely bear the stink and the sound of it. What a jest. Marek was the one feeling theTburn right into the middle of hisforehead.
"Take him away and prepare him for the execution tomorrow night," Stellan said, discarding the brand back in thecoals.
Marek moaned through a raw throat, as if he simply had no voice left to scream. Or perhaps he'd passed out, there at the end. Shehoped.
Árdís turned as the guards dragged him away. Malin's hand squeezed hers. But Árdís's gaze locked on her uncle, and she hated him in that moment, more than she'd ever hated anyone in herlife.
But she did not darespeak.
None of them did. Not even Sirius, whose head turned toward her, their eyes locking for one long moment in which she wondered if he evencared.
Silence.
The entire court was rocked withsilence.
The only sound was the dying screams that grew weaker the further the poordreklingwas dragged from the throneroom.
"Does anyone else wish to throw their allegiance to the Traitor Prince?" Stellan askedsoftly.
Nobodymoved.
"We didn't think so," the queen mused, sliding to her feet with graceful elegance. She paused at her brother'sside.
"It has been over a month since Magnus, our prince, our hope, was taken from us by the traitor, Rurik," the queen called. "I have heard the unrest at court, and the whispers. As much as Magnus would have wished for us to grieve forhim...."
An absolute jest. Magnus had been a monster, and half the court knewit.
"...it is past time we set aside our mourning and looked to the future. To the shining light within our midst." Amadea held her hand out, a sidelong glance shifting to Árdís. "My dear sweetdaughter."
Shock slammed through her. She wasn't prepared for this. Marek's punishment had thrown her off-balance.
It was rare she was required to mount the dais. Árdís hesitated a fraction too long, and saw the faint lines around her mother's mouthtighten.
