The Princess's Servant

71. The Execution

The Wardian palace had one amphitheater for all entertainment: plays, concerts, and executions. The stage transformed into a gallows by morning, and then — once all bodies and their fluids had been cleared — back into a stage by night. Holden had always found this mixing of death and amusement distasteful, but not half as distasteful as the vendor who shouted at him "Ghost on a stick! Get your ghost on a stick!" as he shoved something in Holden's face. A straight twig with a line on the end that tied around a bit of cloth with a face. Children would wave these around during a hanging and dangle them into the faces of their parents and siblings. 

"Free of charge, your Highness," the vendor said, and Holden stared at him. For a moment, he considered snarling at the man, or even snapping his ware over his knee, but Holden did neither. He quietly declined the simple gift and made his way over to his seat.

His brother already sat in his chair. It was an onyx throne, a few rows up and dead center of the amphitheater. Next to his brother's intimidating seat, was smaller matching one, meant for the heir — which was presently Holden. To the other side of Thomas was a smaller seat still, meant for the emperor's wife. That chair had long sat empty, though Holden had once seen Sebastian sneak a sit.

"I'm impressed," his brother said without bothering to look. "I thought you'd be too faint-hearted to watch."

"Call off your men, Thomas," Holden said. He didn't sit down. "That's my wife down there."

Thomas rolled his head in a stretching motion. "Yes, Sebastian told me about a wedding. Except, funny thing about the marriage loophole." His brother watched him from the corner of his eye with hooded lids. "It only applies if you wed before the sentence." He returned his attention to the stage, where the princess was brought behind a noose. "Sybil will be hanged, dear brother, and Lailoy will be destroyed. You, on the other hand, have only happy days ahead of you. The woman who tormented you will be no more, and the fair trial you dreamed of will reach its fair conclusion. I'll even seek out a new bride for you to bed so you can forget this whole sordid affair."

"What? No, I—"

Thomas held out his hand. "So I say it, so it is," he said, and he brought his hand to his arm rest. "Now sit and watch as your past perishes before your eyes, or leave and be content to say no more."

"But I—" Holden tried again, but Thomas held out his hand again more firmly.

Holden scowled but spoke no more. He turned heel from the emperor and strode off, his cloak brown as earth billowing behind him in the fresh morning air.

Thomas gave a sharp nod down to the stage where the gallows stood erect.  A short man in a long red toga nodded back.

"We are gathered here today to witness the execution of Princess Sybil of Lailoy," the man said. "She has committed many crimes that have made her worthy of her fate, including kidnapping a royal, detaining a royal, battering a royal, insulting a royal, winning a bet against a royal..."

Sybil watched as Holden huffed away from his brother and towards the exit of the amphitheater. When he crossed into that dark archway, Sybil felt the blood drain from her. That wasn't right. He'd... He'd just married her. He wouldn't leave her there, alone at the gallows. He'd said he was going to save her. He'd said he'd wanted to help her save Lailoy. He couldn't just leave. He wouldn't.

Sybil stared still at the stoney archway where he'd left. Stillness. Silence. Nothing.

"Covering a royal in honey, failing to ask a royal what they'd like for breakfast, attempting murder, dressing a royal in peasant clothes..."

Prince Thomas made a twirling motion with his pointer finger, signaling to the announcer to wrap it up.

The man nodded at the motion. "And so on and so on and many wicked deeds," he said. "And it is in light of these affronts to his royal highness Prince Holden and to our noble empire of Ward that Prince Thomas, the First of his name, Regent to the Emperor Warrick the Second, Commander of Ward, condemns the Princess Sybil to death by hanging." The red-robed man rolled his scroll and turned to Sybil. "Have you any final words?" He asked.