Excalibur's Seven | ✓ [LGBT]

~ 32 ~

SO MANY TIMES, THEY'D come close to losing their own lives. But this time, dying was the least of Kit's worries. As he watched his brother pick up the shards from the ground, he realized that his failure didn't just doom the seven of them--er, the six of them. He doomed the entire kingdom, perhaps the entire world.

The chains were heavy around his wrists as they were dragged through the courtyard, out the portcullis, and down to the village stretched out before them. The people there watched with wide eyes as Kit and his companions were taken to the square.

Silence followed them as they passed, the villagers stopping to stare at the spectacle before them.

They were already bleeding out. Kit couldn't decide whether a noose was a mercy or if it was overkill. He tried not to look at Chalice, he had no idea whether they were even still alive slumped in the arms of a knight, frail wrists bound in iron chains.

Giselle was awake now, escorted by Morgana, whose empty wrist was now wrapped in thick linen. He didn't seem angry about his hand, at least not angry enough to switch sides again.

It hurt to watch. Kit agonized over the thought that he could be dead in that cell, he cried every night, just for him to be alright after all, ready to send them all to their deaths. It felt wrong, watching him escort Giselle to the noose, a grave expression on his face, as though he couldn't do something.

God, he better be planning something.

The knights pushed the people back, clearing a space for the six of them. They were all tossed to the ground in front of the people, and Kit's eyes settled on a line of men off to the side. The Knights of the Round Table watched as two of their own faced the death sentence.

A fanfare played as King Wylan stepped forward, cutting through the crowd and facing his people.

"Citizens of Avalon," he bellowed, opening his arms to greet them all. "Before us are six traitors to the throne. Let them serve as a warning. If any of you wish to disobey my orders, if any of you wish to threaten the throne that rightfully belongs to me, you will face the same fate as these disgraceful individuals."

He nodded to a Knight, and one stepped forward, removing his helmet. Kit and Selene both gasped at the sight of his uncle, the insufferable Sir Conan, ready to usher his wife to her death without so much as a tear.

"Is this who they replaced me with?" Selene whispered, looking up at her husband with loathsome eyes.

Conan's eyes flickered to Giselle. "Is this who you replaced me with?"

"At least she's prettier than you. And just completely better at everything, honestly."

He scoffed and yanked Selene to her feet, ripping the chestplate from her torso. "There's no way a fucking Seelie is nicer than me."

Selene stared him in the face. "Go to hell."

"See you there, my dear," he replied, pulling her up onto the platform.

Kit's stomach churned as Selene was raised up onto a stool, the rope falling loosely around her throat. The Lady didn't show an ounce of fear on her face.

"Any last words, Selene O'Leary?" the King asked.

Selene's face curled into a smirk. "You men will never be half as strong as me, half as good as Giselle, half as clever as Eurion. Don't you ever forget it."

Kit flinched as the stool was kicked from beneath her feet, body falling limp and the rope tightening around her neck. He turned to look at Giselle, who was crying into her hands.