All's Fair in Revenge

Chapter 56: Well Done

Things did not go as planned.

Rope ensnares my feet and wrists. The sharp corners of a beam press into my shoulder blades. A pile of chopped wood leans against the small platform where I'm forced onto my tiptoes high above the ground. There's a stage where Queen Nathara of Dorsette is due, a purple throne set with gold ornamentals awaits her.

I wince at the sky. At the clouds that have cleared to make way for the sun beating down on me, burning my skin which only serves to make me realize; how ironic how I thought it'd be me who'd burn Castle Moer to the ground when it's me who'll burn on Castle Moer's grounds. Gods be damned; perhaps I should've been more specific in my prayers.

Any words of wisdom, I asked the voice in my head. Any suggestions, she who claimed I'd understand everything eventually? Eventually is here. You are not. I jolt against the ropes. They cut into my battered skin.

Below, hundreds of faces stare up at me in silence. I meet the crinkled gaze of an old woman with blue jay eyes. Despite the wind blowing my hair all around me, I hold her stare if only because I'd like to win one battle in this world before I leave it. Eyr knows I've lost everyone before it.

When I walked out of the cell over an hour ago, I never considered I'd meet a brigade on the steps. I fought. Oh, how I fought them. But no amount of training or strength can best six well-built human men. They had me tied and gagged before the last two in line even knew what was happening. I didn't even have time to reach down and coax the dark energy. It was there. I felt it. But I was tired. So unbelievably tired. And sad. Heartbroken, even.

They dragged me outside with haste, past the parapets and stones walls to the set of stakes built on the training field. One would go unused. For some reason that bothered me. I have not the time to delve into the many reasons why. I'm too enamored with the rawness of my dry throat and the intensity with which my feet itch as though teeny-tiny hairs poked them. I try to scratch them on the edge of the platform, inching my largest toe toward its corner. The knot is too tight. The itch is too big. As uncomfortable as being tied to a stake is, an itchy foot is still worse.

Who knew?

I scream like a madwoman because what more is there to do? I'm filled to the brim with emotion, out of my mind with panic, and forced to stand feet above my death bed. It startles the gathering crowd, but something beyond absconds their attention. I follow their gazes.

A line of horses with guards holding torches appear uphill passing under an arch built into the castle's inner curtain. I count eight torches in total which in the daylight seems excessive to me. A bit overkill if you will.

Despite my intention to be brave and strong and fearless when faced with my fate, I find my lungs and heart have another plan. Both of which pump at irregular speeds. I'd be worried for a heart attack if I weren't already set to die. In fact, it's preferable to burning. Faster at least.

The horses part to reveal the newly crowd queen in her violet regalia. Her arrival to the stage, her dismount from her horse, and each step to the throne is a parade. She's sans her drunken, naïve facade. She lowers herself into her throne. The smooth fabric of her black and royal purple dress spreads over her crossed knees. She places her hands on either side of her chair and her caramel eyes fixate on me with much interest. They ask me something, ponder my position, my situation, my stance. They slither over me, stick to my face and it's then I realize, she's pondering what I'll do.

Considering I've all but resigned to my fate, that makes one of us. To go loudly would disappoint her and disrupt. Well, if there's one thing I know how to do...