Without a King (Greatest Thief 1, mxm)

Chapter Twenty

I woke up slowly. The first time I opened my eyes, I was still alone in the cell. I couldn't tell if my arms still hurt or not. It was hardly a second before my eyes drifted closed again. The next time, the guards were back, but the director was nowhere in sight. I had trouble understanding that one of them was undoing the straps that held me to the chair. I was pulled to my feet and held up by one guard while the other tied my wrists together with a rough rope. This time I stayed awake, though things seemed slow and blurry. They dragged me from the cell and down numerous hallways that I instinctively tried to remember.

The sight of a courtyard ahead cleared my mind. My thoughts came into focus and I reined them in. I didn't have the same control over my body, which stayed limp in the guards' arms. The courtyard was small, bordered by the prison's walls. It wasn't the main courtyard that led out of the prison; this one was private and secluded. A thick wooden pole stood in the centre of the courtyard. About halfway up it, hammered into the wood, was a metal hook. I knew what I was looking at.

The two guards pulled me over to the post. They stopped nearby, each holding an arm as if one of them wouldn't be strong enough to hold me. We were facing a wooden door opposite the one we had walked though. It was closed, but just as we stopped, it swung open. The director walked in first, and I winced when he looked at me. He turned around to greet the men who were following him. Of course, executions often drew crowds. Usually they were held in the market square. I'd been present for quite a few of them but I never watched—it was easy to sneak amongst the distracted shoppers and merchants. My execution seemed like it would be a more private event.

A handful of men walked into the courtyard, one of whom I recognized. Malte arrived, looking exactly as he had four years ago. He didn't even look at me as he went to join the other men. A flicker of blue over by the door caught my attention, and I instantly felt better. Whether he could do anything or not, seeing him filled with me with a sort of relief I couldn't quite make sense of at that moment.

The director didn't bother officially greeting Tannix. Instead, they exchanged a quick nod before approaching the rest of us. They joined the group and the director began to explain what exactly was going on. Tannix was staring at me. I could tell when he noticed the brand, because his eyes widened and his hand, which was resting on his sword pommel, tightened. He glared at the director so hatefully I almost thought he would pull out his sword and cut off the man's head right there. It was nice to imagine.

My two guards started moving, and I was pulled over to the wooden post. One guard lifted my arms so that the rope binding my wrists could be slung over the hook. It left me standing on the tips of my toes, facing the pole. Pain flared through my left shoulder, radiating out from the brand and reminding me harshly that it was there. My right wrist was throbbing again, and in some vain attempt to lessen the pain I tried to adjust so my weight was on my left arm. It wasn't much better. The guards completely cut away my cloak and tunic, leaving no protection between the skin of my back and the whip.

I looked at Tannix, comforted by his presence. I thought about Zianesa, and about Siour and his chariot. I thought about Baisan and the others, waiting for me. Mostly I let my thoughts settle on Tannix, because he was there. His blue eyes met mine, calming me down despite what I knew was about to happen. Part of me, the small part still thinking clearly, didn't want Tannix to have to watch me being beaten to death. The scared part of me needed him there, so I could stare at him and try to block out everything else.

The director unhooked the whip from his belt dramatically as he approached me. "Is there anything you want to tell me?"

I looked away from Tannix for a second. "There's nothing else to tell," I said as steadily as I could manage.