Chapter 67

CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

Ellery

Ten servants, with buckets and rags, worked to scrub the surfaces of the hallway as we passed them. They wore little more than rags, either because that’s what their master always offered them or because of the awful work they performed—blood stained those rags.

None of them looked at us as we passed by on our way to the open ballroom doors. I braced myself for what we’d find beyond those doors.

The outer bailey had stunk, but it was nothing compared to the cloying stench of blood, death, excrement, and chemicals bombarding me as soon as we entered. Unable to stop myself, I stepped back, but when one of the guards shot me a look, I quickly righted myself.

I couldn’t have them thinking I would try something. I’d had enough of death for a lifetime and would have more in the future, but not today. I needed a break today.

Making sure to stay as unassuming as possible, I surveyed the destroyed room. It was so beautiful last night; today was a horror show.

Other amsirah moved among the rows of dead neatly laid out on the floor. The ones who found their dead, gathered them and loaded them into coffins or lifted them between family members to carry them out by hand.

Judging by the empty spaces between some of the dead bodies, a fair amount were already claimed. A woman wept at the foot of a dead man while two other men loaded him into a black coffin.

A large pile of at least a hundred bodies lay near the open doors to the garden. They’d tossed most haphazardly onto the heap. None of them still wore hoods, but I knew they had to be the rebels.

I suspected they would eventually burn those bodies but had left them there, for all to see, and to know this was what would happen if they dared to try to rebel too. Clenching my hands before me, I resisted my impulse to flee this place of death and tyranny.

I hoped they hadn’t mixed some guests up with the rebels. I couldn’t imagine pawing through that pile in search of my mother, but I would if I had to.

Breathing through my mouth didn’t help ease the stench as my stomach rolled. I would not cry or throw up here. I would not.

Regaining control of my emotions, I scanned the rest of the room to avoid looking at the bodies the guards were leading us toward. Some of my tension eased when I spotted Ryker standing in front of the dais.

He couldn’t stand next to me through this, but he was here, and the strength of his presence helped bolster my own. In a room full of powerful men, he stood out from the others.

His expression was stony, but warmth shone from his eyes, and I knew it was for me. My fingers itched to hug him.

I contented myself with the knowledge I’d see him later. He was mine now, and while few others knew it, I did, and it was enough for me.

I tore my attention away from him and to the dais and the king, duke, earl, and his sons. Sitting on his throne, Ivan looked irritated while he surveyed the room.

The duke sat beside him with an empty chair to his left. I didn’t know if that was where his fiancée was supposed to sit, but she wasn’t there now.

Three empty chairs sat on the other side of the king. The earl and his sons stood before them.

Before the dais, dozens upon dozens of immortals knelt with their hands and feet chained behind their backs. Blood pooled around their knees, and their flayed flesh hung in strips from their backs.

My hand almost flew to my mouth, but I stopped myself in time. I couldn’t show sympathy or despair for these amsirah; the men on the stage would eat me alive if I did.

I gulped as I tore my attention away from the captured rebels. I couldn’t look at them again.

What they’d done was foolish, and my mother was dead because of it, but what they would suffer because of it was a fate no one should endure. Ryker once shared their fate and bore the scars to prove it, but he’d survived. They would not.

“Get your dead and get out!” the earl barked.

His words echoed around the room, and some of those amid the dead jumped a little. My pace increased toward the row of bodies, even as I yearned to turn and flee.

“Lovely man,” Mr. Fletcher muttered.

I carried the front of the coffin as we made our way through the first row of bodies. We passed a sobbing woman and her daughter as another woman and a man carried a coffin past us. The child looked up at me with frightened, tear-filled eyes that tugged at my heart.

That little girl no longer had a father; I knew how she felt. But more than that, this innocent child would be more vulnerable to the future horrors that would descend on Tempest… and there would be more of them.

Ivan and the nobles weren’t done playing with us. They never would be… unless we defeated them.

What Ryker and I planned would cause more trouble in Tempest, but if we didn’t do something, the suffering would be worse for all those trapped here. There might be more rebellions like this one; if there were, they would only succeed in destroying more of those who could help us.