Page 121 of Brutal Crown
The chants rise, Latin syllables echoing off the walls and sinking into my bones. The air is so hot now that I can barely breathe.
A man in black steps forward and cuts the bindings from my wrists, and I feel a beat drop in my chest.
This is it.
The first coal sears my skin like acid. I hear the hiss of burning skin before I feel it, and then the scorching heat roars up my leg like lightning.
I clamp my teeth down on my tongue to hold my scream. A metallic taste explodes in my mouth. My body jerks, and my hands tremble at my sides. But I stay upright.
The second step carves me open.
A jagged edge somewhere in the coals tears into the arch of my foot like a blade. Warm blood rushes down and sizzles on the stone, and the smell hits me immediately.
Flesh. Blood. Smoke.
By the third step, I’m not sure I can keep going. My lungs are screaming, and my legs are shaking. My vision blurs at the edges as tears gather in my eyes. I ball my hands into fists, digging my nails into my palms.
I’m almost halfway. I can do this.
I refuse to stop. For them, this is a ceremony, but for me, it’s a message.
It’s me telling them who owns me—and showing I’m strong enough to bear the weight of that choice.
I keep walking.
The world narrows to the excruciating pain traveling through every corner, crevice, and nerve center of my body. The sound of my own heartbeat pounds in my ears, hammering louder than the chants that surround me.
By the time I reach the middle of the path, my feet are torn and blistered. My knees almost buckle, but I catch myself just in time.
Something pulls me away from the pain, only momentarily.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see movement in the small crowd. Someone shifts closer past one of the columns. No one is supposed to move until the rite is over, but there’s only one person who would do that.
Francesco.
I know it’s him. Even now, I feel his stare like a brand on my skin. I don’t look at him. I can’t. If I do, I’ll fall apart.
The next step almost kills me.
It takes every ounce of strength I have to lift my foot and place it on the next coal. My body is screaming at me to stop, to give up and beg for my life, or to say a big ‘fuck you’ to everyone here and surrender to death.
But my heart perseveres. I’m not just walking on this path for myself. I’m doing it for my father, for my unborn child, and for everyoutsiderwho has never had a voice in this place.
The next few steps are the hardest. At some point, I notice even Marco has taken a step forward. My blurred vision can’t make out the expression on his face.
When I finally make it to the end, my knees give out immediately.
The impact sends a sharp pain up my legs. My palms hit the coal. Heat bites at my skin from all sides, and I feel the stone burning through my dress. The chanting stops. Gasps and murmurs erupt in the room, and panic rises in my chest.
They are about to watch me burn to death.
My body seems to have taken control over my willpower. I want to scream as my body starts falling to the side, but before I collapse on the hot coals, Marco is at my side before anyone can stop him. He catches me before I fall fully onto my side, his arms wrapping around me tightly. His hold is firm, but his body is trembling. He holds me like he already knows I’m slipping away and doesn’t know how to stop it.
With the last ounce of strength I can muster, I straighten my spine and lift my head to stare directly into his eyes. The murmurs around me get louder. I was supposed to bow in completion of the final step.
I keep my spine straight and my chin high. My wounded hands curl into fists as a tear runs down my cheek.
“Don’t do it,” Marco whispers in a broken voice, pressing his forehead against mine. “Don’t condemn yourself to death.”
