She’d been twenty. Six years had passed in loneliness and then another three in a frustrating reaching. She would grasp and then the dream would be gone, like a ghost that had never really existed. Every morning she’d awakened aware that she hadn’t gotten what she wanted and then…
That kiss.
Her whole life, the happy part, played out in a long dream.
She’d given up everything for a damn dream.
There was a scratch at her door.
“They’re coming.”
Niall’s voice.
“What should I do?” She kneeled before the door. It was time to make her play, but she felt so tired. Her hands shook slightly. The world was a little fuzzy. Was she starting to panic?
“I don’t know.” The words were hesitant. “They’re coming early. It was supposed to happen at noon. It’s only ten.”
Micha was running early. He probably thought that if he could get rid of her, Gillian would stop her assault. He would burn her before the township was up and able to protest that she hadn’t had a fair trial. She hadn’t even seen the town magistrate.
She’d made a terrible mistake. Micha had upped the timeline because now he didn’t want her talking. Goddess, she was terrible at this. Horrible. She didn’t know what to do except to try. She wouldn’t be walked to her execution calmly. Dignity wasn’t going to help her. Besides, no one had gathered. No one would bear witness. And no one would help her.
They had all turned their backs.
She would fight until the flames took her.
“They’re coming, Your Highness. Please don’t call attention. I have a plan. Someone has run to tell Gillian.” Niall’s voice was thin through the cracks of the door, and then the only sound she heard was the hard thud of boots against the floor.
The door slammed open, and she was faced with two of the largest guards in the village. They were each a foot taller and had a hundred pounds on her, but they were armed to the teeth as though she was the most dangerous criminal on the plane. They each held a sword and had knives at their belts.
She knew how to use a knife. She could certainly get one of them, but could she get both?
Niall had begged her not to draw attention. There was some plan in place.
Your Highness. Goddess, Niall had called her “Your Highness.”
“Isolde, are you going to come quietly or should we cut out that pretty tongue of yours right here?” Arik, the older of the two guards, asked.
“I think we should have a bit of fun with her before she goes out. Seems a shame to leave this life without ever knowing the touch of a man.” Theo leered at her.
Arik held out a hand. “Don’t touch that one. You weren’t here yesterday. It’s best that one just goes out in the flames. Come on, wench. Time to go.”
Bron took a deep breath and made her decision. She would give Niall some time. He knew something. Gillian had brought him in on the secret, and that meant Gillian trusted him. She nodded to her captors and smoothed out her dress before stepping forward to follow them.
The hallway was utterly silent as they moved toward the stairs that would lead them up and into the main hall. She followed Arik, who lumbered in front of her. All the long walk, she could feel Theo’s eyes on her. She began to feel an ache low in her gut. Fear? It was a horrible rolling sensation.
“Got a hot fire going for you, witch.” Arik’s voice echoed off the stone walls.
“But not so hot it won’t take a little time to work. Wouldn’t want you going out too soon, now would we?” Theo said with a hollow laugh.
“Wouldn’t want to disappoint the crowd.” Bron frowned, her feet shuffling in front of her. One foot in front of the other. She had to get through each moment. She tried to focus. Her skin felt hot. Was it starting again?
Arik stopped at the bottom step. “Ain’t no crowd. Heard they was too afraid of you. The mayor is trying to calm them, tell them he has you under control. I’m sure by the time the magistrate passes sentence, they’ll come out in droves and see you ain’t nothing to be afraid of.”
But Theo was frowning. “I heard they wouldn’t come because they love her. She gave a lot of people in this village food. That sister of hers healed a lot of Fae.”
Arik’s eyes went hard. “That’s the way witches work. They bring you in. Who knows how many she really hurt? My neighbor lost two cows last week. I bet it was her.”
Theo seemed to pull his energy back around him. He nodded. “You’re right. Me ma’s wrong. She’ll see when the witch dies and things get better around here. Move it, Isolde. Don’t think just because a few of us are too stupid to see that you’re evil, that they’re going to help you. More’s like those who don’t come will get punished.”
She found a comfort in the fact that they were rebelling, even if it was in a quiet way. The people of this village seemed so deeply content with the status quo, but perhaps that was because Torin hadn’t really touched them yet. Things were changing. Bronwyn just had to find a way to live long enough to see it happen.
She tried to focus on the heat that threatened to take over her body. It needed to be in her hands, not low in her gut.
Arik turned back around and had a foot on the first step of the stairs. Bron began to follow. There was nothing else to do. The corridor was narrow and didn’t lend itself to fighting. But if she could start a fire, maybe she could run.
Bron heard Theo shuffling behind her. He gave a soft grunt, and then there was a hand on her elbow. She turned and looked into Niall’s brown eyes. He held a finger to his lips, an obvious request for silence. Theo was on the floor, his body in a crumpled mass. Bron checked her gasp.
Niall held a blade in his hand, the knife slick with blood. Theo’s blood.
The enormity of it grasped her. Niall was killing to protect her. Did she want that responsibility? Did she have a choice? The choices she would make if she pursued this path hit her squarely in the gut as Arik moved up the stairs and Niall stalked him.
Bron clung to the side of the wall, her eyes moving between Theo’s body and Niall’s arm as he reared back. The burning sensation hadn’t gone away. What in all the planes was happening to her? She had to think.
She made the decision. There would be no going back. There would be blood and death, and she could not shrink from it. She would eat the guilt because that’s what it meant to be a leader.
Niall slit his throat, the knife moving in utter silence. He held Arik against his body, his arm around Arik’s shoulders in an odd approximation of intimacy. Niall brought the larger man to the ground. He never had a chance to shout or say a word.
Her protector eased him to the floor and held the blade at his side. “Your Highness, I need you to trust me.”
“Gillian told you. Gillian trusts you.”
His face contorted in confusion. “Gillian? No. Gillian knows who sent me. I talked to her yesterday. I knew she wasn’t your sister so I figured she had to be the Unseelie princess who went missing.”
Bron stared at him for a minute. “Who sent you? Who told you my name?”
Niall’s eyes were on the stairs above. “You have to play your part, Your Highness. We don’t have another way out. Just take a deep breath and follow my lead.”
He took her elbow and started to lead her up the stone steps. But she had a few questions. If she was going to be the center of this revolution, she was going to start playing the part.
“If Gillian didn’t send you, who did?” Bron could feel the sweat on her brow, the ache in her gut. But it wasn’t her gut. Not really. It was lower, deeper—an ache with only one cure.