The rejected crown (book 1)

The Past and the future collide

Ezra

Ezra sat in the cold, cramped cell, muscles aching, mind spinning. A week had crawled by since the witch trial—the one where he'd watched them actually burn a woman alive. He thought he'd seen enough horrors in his own time to be numb by now, but this medieval kingdom had a brutal sense of justice that felt different. The cruelty of his world was hidden behind screens and procedures, cold and impersonal. But here... here, it was raw, visceral, like a wound that refused to close.

What disturbed him most was Giovanna's intervention at that trial. She'd been the only one bold enough to stand against the mob, defying the court to defend the second woman accused of witchcraft. He remembered her voice, fierce and commanding, cutting through the chants, daring anyone to oppose her. Against all odds, she had saved the young woman. But now, it was Giovanna herself awaiting judgment, locked somewhere within this fortress for her defiance. And Ezra knew exactly where that path led.

He could still hear the crowd's chant—"Witch! Witch!"—echoing in his mind, each shout sharpening the memory of the flames. He'd stood there, rooted, watching as Giovanna's fierce gaze turned on her accusers. Her expression was both defiant and resigned, as though she'd always known this would be her fate.

"Why do I even care?" he muttered, forcing the memories back. "She threw me into the arena like I was a circus act."

He paced his cell, stretching his sore shoulders and easing the ache from countless fights. Battle, he could handle. But this? Watching innocent people burn? That was different. For all her arrogance, Giovanna had shown something he hadn't expected: integrity, maybe even compassion. It reminded him of the few leaders back in his world who'd dared to stand up to their broken system, no matter the cost.

Ezra stopped, running his hand over the rough stone wall. "Damn it, Giovanna," he muttered under his breath. "Of all people, why'd you have to go and do the right thing?"

Giovanna's name was familiar to him, not as a person but as a legend, a tragic figure in forgotten histories. He'd read about her from old archives in his world, where tales of her sacrifice and fall were recorded in hushed tones. Every version ended the same way—her courage leading her to ruin.

He'd watched her stand at that trial, protecting a terrified woman while the court demanded blood. In that moment, she was more alive than most people he'd ever known. And now, her life hung by a thread, awaiting a trial that would undoubtedly end in her destruction.

"What are you doing, Giovanna?" he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck. She was like a myth come to life, and her tragic ending was already written. But somehow, knowing her fate made watching her struggle even harder.

Before he could sink too deep into his thoughts, the door creaked open, and he looked up to see Lord Roderick entering, his dark cloak trailing behind him. The advisor's silver hair gleamed in the torchlight, his gaze hard and calculating.

"Ezra," Roderick began, voice smooth and unreadable. "I hear you've been asking about the princess's situation."

Ezra shrugged, masking his unease. "Just wondering what happens to someone who stands up against your court. Pretty sure the crowd would love to see her burn like the last one."

Roderick's smile was cold. "You've seen the consequences already, haven't you? Giovanna's 'noble' act made her enemies, and now she'll pay. But her trial is none of your concern."

Ezra studied Roderick, who lingered in the doorway with faint disdain, as though spending too much time here might soil his cloak. Ezra knew his type—powerful men who hid behind others, who manipulated from the shadows. In his world, they thrived behind polished desks; here, they controlled the throne.

"So you came down here to tell me it's none of my business?" Ezra said, keeping his tone lazy, like the advisor's threat meant nothing to him. "That's a lot of effort for a lowly gladiator."

Roderick's eyes narrowed. "You're more than an amusement, Ezra. Don't mistake curiosity for power. People are... interested in you, no doubt because of your ridiculous claim to be from the future. The court loves a fool to mock. But I suggest you keep those stories to yourself. This kingdom has no tolerance for madness—or lies."

Ezra scoffed, leaning back against the cold stone wall, feigning nonchalance. "Oh, believe me, I've got plenty more lies where those came from. People eat it up, don't they?"

Roderick's lips tightened. The tales Ezra spun—about machines, cities of glass, and leaders no one trusted—had made him a fascination. To most, he was just a madman. But every time he spoke, he noticed Roderick's unease, as if some part of it struck too close to the truth.

"Giovanna's fate is set," Roderick continued, voice icy. "She's an idealist in a world that doesn't allow for idealism. Her pride and her foolish ideas about 'justice' will cost her, just as your arrogance will cost you if you're not careful."

Roderick's gaze was cold as he turned to leave. "Remember, you're nothing more than entertainment here. A fool with wild stories. And if you know what's good for you, you'll keep playing that part."

The door shut with a sharp clang, and Ezra let out a frustrated breath. His mind raced. Roderick feared him, or at least the things he claimed to know. He couldn't shake the feeling that Giovanna's fate was already decided, that her trial was only a formality, a brutal game with a predetermined end.

Ezra clenched his fists, pacing the cell. Giovanna didn't know the end of her own story. To her, this was a fight she could win. But he knew better.

He stopped, heart pounding. If he was just here to entertain the court, then he was disposable. And if he was disposable, he might as well take a risk.

Ezra spent hours working at the lock on his cell, using what scraps he could find to fashion a crude pick. It took patience, and his heart pounded with every noise, but eventually, he heard the faint click he'd been hoping for. The door swung open, and he was free.

The hallways were quiet, and Ezra moved swiftly, his instincts sharp. He slipped past the guards, blending into the shadows, moving deeper into the fortress toward the great hall where he knew Giovanna's fate was being decided.

At last, he reached the edge of the hall, slipping into the shadows, just another face among the onlookers. He saw the crowd gathered, their expressions tense, eager. In the center, Giovanna stood, unchained but resolute, meeting the gaze of each judge without flinching.

Ezra's heart raced as he took his place among the crowd, barely daring to breathe. Her life was in the balance, and he'd come this far. Whatever happened next, he would see it through.

And there, in the shadows, he waited as the verdict was about to be delivered.