The young woman stood in the line of the prisoners, wearing shackles, looking confused as she listened to the leader.
"How did the great emperors of old deal with threats to their lands? To their people? Did they exile traitors to a forest? No." He kicked the young Northerner onto all fours and waved for another warrior to take his hold on the young man's hair. "The great emperors of old knew how to deal with serpents."
His blade flashed, so fast there wasn't even time for a gasp from the crowd. The Northern merchant fell, and the warrior holding his hair swung his head into the air.
"That is how one deals with a serpent!" the leader boomed. "You chop off its head."
The warrior flung the young man's head into the crowd. A cry went up, delayed shock, and then the onlookers surged forward, enraged. The warriors fell on the first few, knocking them to the ground, holding them there, blades at their necks.
"Are the rest of you traitors as well?" the leader said. "I've shown you how we deal with them now, and I would suggest you take a moment to decide whether you are one of them."
The crowd rumbled and shifted. The old Northern merchant crouched by his grandson's body, weeping. The warriors kept their targets pinned, swords at their necks. Slowly, the mob backed off. Some on the edges began looking around, as if wishing to leave. Other false warriors appeared from behind buildings and carts, surrounding the crowd.
"If you are good citizens of the empire," the leader called out. "Then you will wish to bear witness. If you do not, we will know you are not good citizens." He turned to his men. "Let them decide for themselves if they have changed their minds."
Those pinned to the ground rose as soon as they were able and silently merged back into the throng. The leader strode to the next chained man. When a warrior went to grab him, the prisoner fought wildly, writhing and kicking, but three of the false warriors held him down. Others came forward to subdue the rest, and even as Ashyn saw the leader's sword rise, there was a part of her that did not make the logical assumption. That refused to make it.
He's bluffing. Threatening. Posturing. One death is enough. He does not need--
The blade fell. The young man heaved himself up at the last moment, in a final attempt to escape, and instead, lost the mercy of a quick death. The blade caught him too high, cutting but not slicing through bone. Blood sprayed like a fountain.
I'm not seeing this. I cannot be seeing this. The spirits. The ancestors. The goddess herself. None would allow--
Ronan clamped his hand on her collar and heaved her backward, dragging her off the roof of the cart. When she realized what he was doing, she stopped resisting and scrambled down herself, hitting the barrels hard, toppling one in her haste. She leaped to the ground, her ankle twisting, recovering fast as she lunged forward to race around the cart and--
Ronan hauled her back. She fumbled with her cloak's fastening, got free, and almost darted away again before he caught her by the tunic. He yanked her back and seized her arms instead.
"No," he said. "You cannot--"
"I must. Guin."
"You can't."
"I can try. I will try."
She gave a tremendous pull, but he only tightened his grip. When she began to struggle, he did the same as the false warriors in the square. He pushed her to the ground and pinned her there. Only he didn't pin her with a sword, but with his own body, holding her down, wincing as she kicked and fought. When she opened her mouth, he jammed his forearm against it, and she had to stop herself before she bit him.
"There's nothing you can do," he said. "Nothing."
She wriggled away from his forearm. "I can try--"
"How, Ash? It's a dozen men. Guin is chained. If you interfere at all, they will see who you are. You'll be captured, and Guin will still die."
"But I need to do something. Anything. Please."
"We can't. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
He touched her face, wiping away tears, and only then did she realize she was crying. He wrapped his hands around her face, fingers entwined in her hair, and he pressed his palms to her ears, shutting out the screams and struggles of the dying. She lay there, gasping for breath, trying not to think--
Not to think of what was coming? To ignore Guin's death? To leave her out there, surrounded by strangers as she died?
"I need to be where she can see me."
He shook his head. "No, you don't. That won't make you feel any--"
"It's not about me. I won't let her die alone again."
THIRTY-NINE