He opens his mouth to say something, and I realize he must have been looking at my father because when my father bows his head, a tear drops from Abel’s eye, and he bows his, too. And, without a word and without protest, he is led out of the courtroom through the same door he had been brought into it.
I turn to my father and take his hand.
He looks at it, then up at me, and I see the agony on his face.
He pats my hand. “It’s right, Ivy. It’s what has to be.”
I hug him and hold him as he tries to stop the sobs. It’s a long few minutes before he shuffles past me and leaves The Tribunal building alone. I do not know if he will witness Abel’s execution.
Santiago walks me down and out of the courtroom where Marco is patiently waiting, his face, too, grave.
“Marco will take you home,” Santiago says, and I know he will stay to witness. I don’t blame him, and I don’t ask him to come with me. I had before. I had asked him not to watch, but I realize it wasn’t my place to do that. My brother stole so much from him. And Santiago needs closure.
I nod. But there’s one thing. I want to say goodbye. I want to tell Abel goodbye. But I know I won’t be allowed to see him, so I reach into my purse and take out a folded note. I hand it to Santiago.
He looks from the note to me.
“I want him to know I forgive him,” I say. Santiago must give me this. This is my closure even though I know he doesn’t believe Abel deserves forgiveness.
Santiago studies me for a long minute before he squeezes his eyes shut and closes his hand over mine. “You are too good for this world,” he says, and slips the paper from my fingers to his.
I reach up to cup his face. “I love you. And I understand what you need to do,” I tell him before leaning up on tiptoe to kiss him. I feel his deep, shuddering inhale of breath.
It’s over.
He will witness Abel’s execution, and it will be finished. And I don’t know if he expected to feel joy at this. I can’t say what he does feel, not really, but it’s not joy. He’s too human to feel joy even when his enemy is about to be executed.
I come back down to flat feet and look up at him. His forehead is furrowed, eyes heavy with emotion. He nods once and turns to walk away.
44
Santiago
The compound is on lockdown, the normally soft lighting in the courtyard even more dim than usual. It's late now. The traffic outside dwindling to a silence that only seems to preface the ominous occasions on a night such as this one.
The guards are at the gates. The Sovereign Sons and their respective families are all dressed in robes, the few women in attendance donning veiled hats. The men, including myself, are in masks.
Mercedes is beside me, Judge flanking her other side while we take our place in the crowd. Time passes slowly as each family walks the stairs to the gallows erected only for events such as these.
All the Society members who have been wronged by Abel have an opportunity to speak their final piece. Every family who lost someone in the explosion is in attendance, as well as some of the excommunicated members who were wronged by his false evidence.
One by one, they approach him while he stands on the wooden platform, hands tied behind his back. Some are too grief-stricken to speak. Others too quiet to hear. The slaps from mothers who have buried their sons can be heard echoing throughout the courtyard, and Abel bears them all through gritted teeth and a hardened jaw.
He was promised a peaceful execution, and for him, this is as peaceful as it will get. He will die by a broken neck or strangulation, but even that is too much for a coward like him. Someone who has inflicted so much pain cannot even consider the notion of receiving it himself. I have no doubt he was hoping for a large dose of barbiturates, a mercy only sanctioned for the particularly weak or vulnerable.
Since his fate was announced, I have swung between two extremes. One part of me knows it isn't enough, while the other logical part of me understands why it must be this way. He would have never given up the names of the others who participated in the crimes unless there was something in it for him. Now, all of the families can be at peace. Because we are tired. It is a fact I can no longer deny.
When I look upon my sister, at the grief she has shouldered since the loss of our family, I know this is what we need. Not just for Ivy's sake, but for ours too. It is time to put these dark memories behind us, and tonight, when I go to sleep, it will be with a clean conscience.