Eventually.
Much as I hate her, the bitch doesn’t know how to fail. A seed of hope I’ll take to my death.
Stony-faced servants of The Crown cradle bowls of what I can only imagine is some sort of animal blood, splattering me with throws of it. Drenching me in its metallic reek as a thunder of Moltenmaws shadow the sky, the booming beat of their powerful wings thumping … thumping …
Much like my rallying heart.
A speck of snow settles on the tip of my nose, and I look up, smiling, certain everybody else thinks I’m suffering from the brisk weather. But I wonder if our Water Goddess knows otherwise. If Rayne’s waving me off with frosty tears that actually bring me a sense of comfort—chilling the fire in my veins and the anger in my heart. There’s no point to it anyway. Not anymore.
It’s over.
Done.
I’ll go to my doom shackled by only two regrets: that I never got to flay Rekk Zharos from cock to throat, and that I failed to experience life in the way Fallon explained it before she passed. This beautiful, bolstering freedom that was always just out of reach.
Both regrets feel like splinters in my heart as I’m escorted toward a stairway chipped into the north side of the wall, zigzagging up the levels until I’m almost close enough to the clouds to catch them in my mouth.
To taste them.
Nearing the top of the wall, I begin rolling onto my tiptoes every few steps, craning my neck, determined to steal a peek of the moon I love so much … one last time.
Just a little higher, and I might be able to—
I scan the low, snow-spewing clouds that blanket the sky in all directions, obscuring the moons.
Every moon.
My heart drops, something sharp pricking the backs of my eyes.
I’m shoved into a tunnel lined with flaming sconces, and I snarl, the cloudy view blocked by stone and flame. The beat of stomping boots echoes off the walls, and I’m certain those boots are stomping my chest with the weight of my disappointment, fracturing my ribs. Crushing my lungs.
Brush it off.
Stuff it away.
I lift my chin as we turn down another tunnel before I’m led up a swirling staircase that spits me out upon the central stage of the coliseum—so vast it makes me feel like a speck of dirt at the bottom of a basin.
Tiny.
Insignificant.
The thick stone awning shelters a single layer of seating that crowns the building, protecting the vibrant elementals who’ve come to watch me die, willing to risk their lives to witness the grisly spectacle.
They laugh, gasp, and murmur, pointing in my direction as I’m backed against a wooden stake, my feet lost within crusted layers of snow.
I give them a shackled wave, flashing them a smile. “Thanks for coming to send me off!” I yell, followed by a murmured “assholes.”
The guards jostle my hands to my sides, binding coils of fibrous rope around me until I’m secured so tight it’s hard to pull a full breath. They thread back down the stairs while my lungs wrestle against the constricting bind.
A burst of panic explodes behind my ribs.
I’m trapped. Powerless.
So fucking alone.
The realization stabs me in the heart, fear seeping through my veins in a rush of boiling blood. My breaths come short, sharp, and fast, that terrible tremble that shook me in the cell resurging with a vengeance.
Perhaps noticing my sudden discomfort, some of the elementals laugh, cackles pelting me like thrown rocks.
Cheeks blazing, I refuse to look at them again. Instead, I throw my stare skyward, eyes widening on the vibrant beasts circling above, cutting through the clouds, whisking the pretty colors into a churning iris focused on …
Me.
Flakes of snow pepper my hair and face as I try to halt my chattering teeth and slow my shallow, frantic breaths.
This is a slumber-terror I’m going to wake from. As with every slumber-terror, you don’t wake until it breaks you enough you jolt free.
That’s it …
I just have to break. Then I’ll be free.
A swirl of action within the imperial box snags my attention, and I see a female move through a crew of parting soldiers, her pale complexion such a stark contrast to the red crown that garnishes a river of ruddy hair.
The Queen …
I didn’t think she attended these. Guess I’m high profile enough to earn the privilege.
The feeding bell tolls, and my next breath is a punch to the back of my throat, each gong ratcheting through my bones as her Imperial Highness reaches the balustrade. Her gaze falls upon me, and she stills, eyes widening with a flash of … something.
Shock?