"I walked across the village courtyard, anger striking my gut. I did not want to be here. I did not want to watch what was happening.
But I was forced, being related to the convicted.
My brother was tethered to the tall wooden post in the center of the courtyard, bound to it by his wrists.
Even from here I could see the red, irritated skin on his wrists where the rough rope dug into it.
Trenton was going to be whipped. Harshly, brutally.
And by the blues, of all people.
A slender, tall female blue stepped forward from the group of patrollers, her gaze cold and calculating. She held a black, coiled whip in one hand, a burning hot brander in the other. The brander was used to burn the kingdom's label into wherever the prosecutor saw fit, depending on the crime.
My brother was convicted of a crime he didn't commit.
She reached him, and I turned away,
just as Trenton's scream of pain reached my ears, and the smell of burned flesh arose in the air."
YOU ARE READING
Smoke King
FantasySamuel Bachelds is a peasant, a thief, a greyblood. Being a greyblood in a world of powerful, deadly bluebloods with unimaginable powers is a harsh life, one that millions of other greybloods have had to live. He grew up in the run-down, war-torn vi...
