Page 32 of The Eye of the Fifth
A foreign scent lingered in the air. Like early morning dew… or… or unspoiled snow on a fresh winter’s night.
Rosary’s cheeks shined with tears as she broke into a relieved, manic sort of laughter, as though proud that Kyra had saved herself, had shown them all the almighty power that ran through her veins.
But it was not Kyra wielding the magic.
Chapter Ten
The Air Warden
???
Avaldale, Vrethian.
Kyra.
In its long and bloody history, the Citadel had never been so quiet.
No one spoke a word, all of them dumbfounded by the phenomenon they were witnessing. Rosary’s echoing laugh was the only sound.
‘Impossible,’Governor Oswald seethed. Three more Governors joined him on the platform, all of them arguing in hushed, furious voices. Kyra heard Oswald insist, ‘Shemustbe doing it! It’s this stolen magic, it’s an abomination-’
‘Be reasonable, Oswald, the girl’s wrists are bound in iron,’ another, much older Governor countered.
‘Then she is a sorceress of a dark nature! How else-’
‘Don’t beat around the bush, Governor!’ Rosary called out, amusement dripping on her voice as she beamed with glee. ‘You know the law, as do we all.’
Oswald’s lip curled, his puffy face turning red. One of the other Governors said quietly, ‘She’s right. The girl has been saved.’
Another piped up, ‘This magic is elemental. We cannot counter the will of the Gods.’
‘She must be released. We don’t want to tempt Their wrath, nor the crowds if we dismiss this event,’ the first said in earnest.
‘Too many witnesses!’ the other hissed.
Kyra held her breath, barely daring to hope.
Whispers began in the crowd, curling words of confused disappointment that glazed over her skin. She barely cared. The only words that mattered now were the ones about to reluctantly spill out of Governor Oswald’s tight-lipped mouth.
He drew himself up to full height, gave Kyra a look of absolute hatred (as ifshehad been the one to save herself), then cleared his throat. ‘There will be no execution. The divine have spoken.’
‘Yes, they fucking have,’ Rosary hissed triumphantly.
The wooden planks beneath Kyra’s feet shot back up. None too gently, the executioner lifted the noose from her neck. A Governor unshackled her wrists.
The crowd watched on in silence.
And the only way out of the Citadel was through them.
As Kyra moved past Oswald, his hand shot out from beneath his red robe and wrapped around her wrist. ‘That noose is destined for your neck, girl. Set foot in Avaldale again and we will see if the Gods favour you a second time.’
Kyra smiled at him with a bravado that was entirely forced. ‘Eat shit, you ugly prick.’ She wrenched her wrist out of his grip and sauntered down from the platform.
Relief shone on Lilion’s face as Kyra passed her, but despite the vehement display she’d put on begging for her freedom, Kyra completely ignored her.
The crowd cleaved a path down the middle of the courtyard for her, though none of them did so with kindness in their hearts: their piercing gazes were like knives to her skin. And though they had given her space to walk, though one foot moved consistently after the other, her limbs were like lead, her lungs shrivelled as figs, each breath as arduous as the last.
A hand enclosed around her own, but she didn’t flinch at its touch.
