Elven Legacy

Chapter 75

Zemisha

A stormy breeze teased the air underneath thick, ominous clouds. Zemisha and Moira, in scant clothing of the most expensive, delicate sort, in themes of gold and silver, stood in the center of the cobbled square. Holding hands with clammy palms, swallowing hard against the fear, hearts pounding in sync.

All around them, at an equidistance of one and a half yard, a thick red line had been painted. Along the line at three-foot intervals, Neros' guards stood, to keep the people from crossing it. And in between the guards, thick weave baskets bearing gray stones the size of fists.

Neros himself had a prized spot, seated at one corner of the square in a black-painted, ornate sedan chair held up by numb-eyed male slaves. Around the young emperor, a massive retinue of guards, charged with protecting him no matter what happened. A part of Zemisha's mind acknowledged that Neros, all things considered, perhaps wasn't a complete and utter idiot. He must've known that not many among the city's populace were fond of him. Thus, any public outing posed a risk.

However, he certainly didn't wish to miss this particular execution. And clearly Neros wasn't the only one who felt that way.

People swarmed in from all sides to watch, like vultures to carrion. Their vague cheers, their chatter, their hushed anticipation – the buzzing, droning sound of it all made Zemisha dizzy. Her head swam, fear stabbed through her, and Moira's trembling hand in hers was about the only thing that kept her standing upright, chin held up with relative dignity.

Her mother was there, too.

Lakensha stood as close to Neros as his wall of bodyguards permitted and she outright sobbed and pleaded. The beautiful makeup Zemisha knew she wore every single day of her life was leaking profusely down her face. Her hair like a long dark curtain beside her weeping face as she begged Neros to stop. Everyone could hear her. But no one cared. Neros probably enjoyed it, actually. It was the only reason Zemisha could think of for him not ordering his men to shut her up.

It seemed as though Lakensha was realizing only now that Neros was indeed an evil person.

Too little, too late, mother, Zemisha thought, not letting herself look again toward her mother.

Neros raised his arms in his sedan chair, his hands reaching high toward the sky. An excited hush rippled over the crowd. Lakensha kept on sobbing and muttering incomprehensibly.

Everything seemed to become unnaturally still for a short moment. Even the humid breeze, already faint, seemed to pause with the rest. The Azurian flag held up by one of Neros' soldiers folded slackly on itself, the golden sun on it no longer visible. The first hint of thunder groaned somewhere in the faraway sky.

Zemisha and Moira exchanged a panicked look. But in that short second as their eyes met, other emotions pushed through, stepping over the fear.

Warmth and affection shone in Moira's pale eyes. She'd been crying earlier, Zemisha knew, but now Moira was oddly calm. No redness across the freckled skin. She was pale and resigned. Tired, but determined to fight 'til the end. Zemisha could feel it, and it gave her strength. In spite of everything, Moira didn't blame her. Something inside Zemisha broke.

"I love you," she whispered to Moira.

The last word hadn't left her mouth when Moira claimed her lips, hand tangled in her hair, other arm snaking around Zemisha's waist to pull her close and transform the kiss into something more intense, something Zemisha longed for and returned full force.

She threw her arms around Moira, because there was no tomorrow. With tears in her eyes, she held her as if their kiss could somehow make everything else disappear. As if they could vanish and reappear somewhere safe. Wake up in each other's arms on a bed, and cry and laugh at how awful that nightmare had been.

The moment felt surreal. Suspended in the atmosphere, along with the crackling hum of the pre-storm air.

Until the first stones hit.

Reality dawned on Zemisha at once. They pulled apart with gasps and screams. The tang of blood rushed inside her nostrils, the thumps of stones striking Moira's skin made her wince and panic, the cheering of the people gathered round left a trail of nausea up her throat And, funnily enough, the sharp aches from stones hitting her own back and legs claimed her focus last.

But once the initial shock passed and the pain kicked in, it consumed her, made her scream and falter. And when a stone struck the side of her ankle, Zemisha lost her balance. Moira fell down with her. More cheers roared, ringing cruelly inside their ears as their knees hit the cobbles. They held one another to protect their faces as best they could. They shook, flinched and shuddered with every stone that hit home, leaving bruised rawness in their wake, and multiplying in intensity with every new strike. She thought she heard her mother weeping and begging in the distance, but couldn't be sure with all the hollers and encouragements from the men throwing stones. The only thing that kept Zemisha from crying was holding Moira tight in her arms.

Then a stone hit the back of her skull, and haziness overcame her. It was all she could do not to collapse onto the cobbles. She was leaning into Moira's arms now rather than holding her. It wouldn't be long before they both fell.