Thirty-Two

The sun starts its descent toward the horizon, obscured by a patchwork quilt of swollen gray clouds. Each passing minute tightens the knot in my chest, and I swallow against the sob that wants to rush up my throat.

He’ll meet the blade at sunset.

I was numb after we concocted a scheme, even as Marion dressed me in the maid’s outfit I wore before and draped a plain cloak around my shoulders, the hood casting deep shadows over my face.

Every sound, every slice of darkness feels like a threat as I follow the lines of townsfolk scurrying through the narrow streets like ants alerted to food. Disguised as another face in the crowd, I move with them, making my way to the amphitheater at the far edge of the city.

The weathered stone walls absorb the overcast gray sky, and narrow arches and columns line the entrance. The pathway into the amphitheater is lit with flickering torches, and I’m swept along by the crowd, the press of bodies leaving me little room to breathe as we funnel through the tight entrance. The air is thick with anticipation and the unsettling low hum of countless voices. The entire kingdom has gathered for this morbid display, and what’s worse is they’re excited for it.

Inside, the theater opens up, revealing a section of tiered seating that crawls along the far wall like a ladder and looks down onto the platform at the amphitheater’s center.

He’ll meet the blade at sunset.

The guillotine stands on the stage like a wolf locked onto its prey, its teeth sharp and deadly. Dark stains mar the wood where others have met their end, the basket below waiting to catch Kane’s head.

The VIP seating gradually fills with nobles and important figures of the court, their jewels and silks like dying stars against the unwashed gray. I spot Lady Whitmore’s peacock feathered hat before my gaze lands on her thin brows and pinched face.

The Empress thrums hot against my chest, a reminder of the magick that brought me here and the hope I cling to. The hope that’s been sliced thin under the shadow of the guillotine.

My ragged breaths stir my hood when my eyes land on them—Four and Ivy—two heads of a snake seated prominently at the front of the center tier.

Ivy’s eyes gleam with anticipation, her lips curled into a faint self-satisfied smirk. Four takes a seat next to her, and she touches his arm and leans into him, giggling as if he’s just brought back popcorn and candy.

Anger scorches my veins, and I press my palm to the card. The Empress pulses in response, and I channel my rage into pushing forward instead of holding back.

Plump raindrops burst against my shoulders and drum along the wooden planks of the platform. The steady beat of rain blends with the constant murmur of the crowd, and if I wanted to, I could close my eyes and imagine the ocean, imagine being far, far away from here. But I chose this path. I’m doing this on purpose.

I pull the cloak tighter and push through the throng jostling for a better view, my gaze never leaving the platform. My breath is heavy and ragged as I edge closer to the stage, to where they’ll kill Kane if I don’t stop them first.

A door creaks open, and chains slap the wood. Silence flares, prickly and hot as lightning. Every face in the crowd turns to the platform, their eyes fixed on the stairs pressed into the back of the stage. Kane is led out in chains, flanked by two men, cloaked and masked like reapers in head-to-toe funeral black.

The silence stretches as Kane and his jailors ascend the stairs, his shackles clanging against the wood.

I stare at him, unblinking, my skin clammy, my chin trembling. Kane’s tattered clothes are dark with sweat and rain. His black hair is plastered to his forehead. Water drips from the strands and trails down his neck, pulling at his shoulders, dragging him down further. He stumbles slightly, but the figures on either side keep him upright, their grips nearly as strong as his chains.

The crowd swells, their shouts merging into a thunderous roar of boos and jeers. The rain beats down harder, punishing them, punishing me, trying to wash us clean.

The guards shove Kane toward the wooden structure standing menacingly at the center of the platform. He doesn’t look up, doesn’t scan the crowd. His eyes are fixed on the ground, and my heart breaks all over again.

I edge closer to the staircase at the front of the stage, my stomach in my throat, every nerve ending on fire.

I can’t let them take him.

I won’t.

“Stop!” My voice cuts through the chaos like a blade.

Heads whip around, confusion rippling through the crowd as I charge the stage. My footsteps strike the wood. Water soaks my slippers and splashes my legs as I race up the stairs. My hood slips off when I reach the top, and I stand tall, the rain-soaked disguise clinging to my skin.

“Fawn?” Kane’s dark eyes encase me.

Gasps ripple through the audience, a collective intake of breath that seems to pause the very storm around us.

“Seize her!” The shrill shout comes from the stands.

I spin around to stare up at Ivy on her feet beside Four, pointing a shaking finger in my direction.

“No one is taking her.” Kane lunges at the nearest guard, shoving him aside with his shoulder. The second guard doesn’t have time to react before Kane’s hands are on him. He loops the iron chains over the guard’s head, pulling them tight against his neck. The guard’s eyes bulge, his hands clawing at the chains as he struggles for breath.

The first guard regains his balance and charges. Kane twists, his muscles bulging, his veins like cords under his skin as he fends off the attack. He maintains his stranglehold on the other guard, whose heels slip and slide against the wet wood planks. Finally, he goes limp. Kane tosses the unconscious guard aside, the body landing with a thud that is almost lost in the roar of the crowd.

The first guard comes at him again, but Kane is ready. He swings his chained fists, catching the guard across the jaw with a bone-crunching thwack . The guard’s head snaps back, his knees buckling as he crumples to the ground. The crowd’s roar reaches a fever pitch, fed by bloodshed.

The platform shakes as Kane charges forward, the chains swaying from his wrists. Rain pours from the sky, cold and relentless, soaking through my dress as he nears. My heart hammers, my breaths ragged, every detail of him etching itself into my memory. His intensity. The sheer force of his will. The rain in his hair, the sharp cut of his jaw, those endless dark eyes as they lock onto mine. The crowd’s noise fades to a distant murmur, life narrowing to just the two of us.

“You came back.” Kane’s voice is rough, choked with surprise and something deeper, something that makes my heart twist.

“Someone has to save you for a change.”

The tarot card pulses against my chest, a reminder of the magick that brought me here, that binds me and Kane together.

Rain slides in rivers across the hills of his muscled chest, and the rugged lines of his face soften as he reaches out, tucking a strand of wet hair behind my ear. “I can’t believe you’re really here.” His fingers trace my jaw, and my entire body tingles.

“I couldn’t leave you.” I reach up, cupping his face with my hands, feeling the rain-slicked warmth of his skin beneath my fingers. “Not like this.”

I lift onto my tiptoes, my breath mingling with his as our lips meet. His mouth is warm against mine, and for a heartbeat, the world stops spinning.

The moment shatters as rough, meaty hands grip my shoulders, tearing me away.

I cry out, fighting against their grip, against being taken away from Kane as soon as I’ve found him again, but they’re too strong. Kane shouts, his chains clanking as he struggles, but even he can’t fend them off. Not when reinforcements have come and so many guards surround him.

A guard drags me backward, and I summon every ounce of strength to wriggle away from him. His sandpaper-rough hands scrape against my arms as I spin out of his wet grasp and rush to the edge of the platform. The crowd jeers and boos, but I raise my voice above them.

“Your kingdom is tearing itself apart!” I call out, my voice strong despite the fear cramping in my gut.

The guard recovers, seizing me by my bicep with bruising force. I know I’ll have marks to remember this by—if I manage to stay alive long enough.

I take a deep breath, my thoughts spinning. I need to buy time.

“Pentacles deserves better,” I continue, struggling against the guard’s hold. “You deserve better.”

The guard’s grip tightens, and he yanks me across the stage like a rag doll.

The crowd’s noise is a constant roaring wave, but I press on, raising my voice even louder. “I know you’re angry. I know you’re afraid. You should be. You were forgotten. Worse than that, you were treated like a burden. Lied to. Manipulated.

The crowd’s shouts have quieted to a murmur. I have their attention, and I need to keep it.

I push forward, sending up a silent hope that Marion and McDougall are close. “It’s not too late to force them to see you as human, to save your kingdom and one another. You’ve been living this nightmare for too long.”

The hesitant hush shatters, and my fragile hold on their attention slips when a voice strikes out. “The warrior used his magick to curse the kingdom! He poisoned Pentacles from the inside.”

My heart pounds as I search for the man who spoke, but the faces blur together—angry, hungry, afraid.

“Lies!” Kane is cut short by a swift punch to his stomach that makes him double over, gasping for breath.

“Cut off his head!” another spectator shouts, shrill and vicious. “And his whore’s!”

A murmur of agreement turns into an uproar. I try to raise my hands to quiet them, to regain some kind of control, but the guard pins them to my sides. “They’re lying to you! Kane’s magick is a gift. He’s not your enemy. He’s—”

“Spill both their blood!” another person roars, and the crowd erupts into chaos.

A guard flanks Kane and slams his boots against the back of Kane’s knees until he cries out through gritted teeth and drops in front of the pillory.

My gaze frantically scans the crowd and the private boxes for any sign of Marion or McDougall.

Instead, Ivy’s eyes meet mine straight on. She crosses her arms over her chest, a triumphant sneer curling her lips while she looks down at me with cold satisfaction.

As if she’s already won. As if there was never a battle to begin with.

But Ivy’s underestimated me.

Kane’s breath is ragged, his muscles trembling, straining to stay upright as the guards shove him down against the wet wooden plank and force his neck into the half-moon-shaped hole of the lunette.

I can’t let this happen. I can’t lose him again.

This won’t be another mistake.

The crowd’s uproar intensifies, and they surge forward. Bodies press against the wooden stage, and it shudders beneath me. I’m teetering on the edge of a precipice, the ground crumbling beneath my feet.

“I can prove it!” I shout to the guards, to the crowd, to whatever gods watch over this realm. “I can prove you’ve been lied to. Give me a chance to show you the truth.”

I’m scrambling. I know that, but I also know that I don’t have a choice.

There’s no more time to wait for Marion and McDougall and the plan we set in motion before I left the palace. There’s not even time for me to fully think about what I’m going to say before it leaves my mouth. I’ve gotten this far, and I have to keep going if I have any chance of saving Kane.

The crowd roars, and it’s impossible to tell if they want me to show them proof Kane isn’t the monster who’s cursed their kingdom or if they want my bloody, lopped-off head in the basket next to his.

“You want the truth?” I shout over the uproar.

The guard jerks me back. He hisses a warning in my ear, but his threat is swept up by the clamor of the crowd. My gaze snaps to Ivy, knowing that one gesture from her could seal my fate, could send me to join Kane with my head on the block.

Ivy’s cold gaze meets mine as she lowers into her seat, crossing one long leg over the other. To her and Four, this is a spectacle, a game with predetermined rules that can only end one way, so I might as well give the crowd a show.