It was amusing how I was the one banned from the city, yet it wasn’t me who stood waiting to watch girls hang to death with a bored expression. But that would be too logical a question to voice.
It had all begun around six o’clock while I was sitting in the dining room, watching Farah as she made me some more powder for my ring. It took a special kind a witch to be good at spells, and I’d learned soon after arriving here that I just didn’t have the patience for it.
The front door had flown open, and in came Clinton, his eyes glinting with malice. I sighed, thinking Alis must have shared his intentions to pledge with Juliana. “You did this! You compelled him to do this!”
The few servants in the hall ran out to find Agnes, but before he could even reach me, the magistrate and ten king’s guards filed in the door behind him. The magistrate was in his fifties with a silver mustache and a high air about him like he was King instead of an incompetent official.
He announced a warrant for the ‘wheaten-haired whore who worked at the Royal Affair,’ stating they’d received an anonymous tip that she was the Girl in Black. I directed my glare at the only bitch—I mean witch—who knew about the whole issue. “Really?”
Farah lifted her shoulder. “You ruined my cards and my charm. The deal was only for the cards.”
Ugh, witches and their grudges.
Agnes had made it into the room by the time they were shackling magic-proofed cuffs on my wrists. She denied any knowledge of who I was and gave me the strongest glare I’d ever seen from her.
Well, if anything, it had gotten me away from Clinton, who watched me, a bit cross, as they escorted me to the door. As I passed him, I pursed my lips, contrite. “Tell my mother that I love—”
“If they don’t execute you, I will,” he hissed.
“Rude,” I muttered as they pulled me out the door.
Shit, shit, shit. This was the point I began thinking I was in a bit of a tangle. I couldn’t compel ten king’s guards at one time. I could bite my lip hard enough to let some blood drip, but the thought of doing that again sent a shiver through me. I’d promised myself. So, I decided I would just wait until they put me in a cell and I would escape that way. But they never did; they took me directly to this wooden platform I was standing on and slipped the noose around my neck before I could even blink.
I was going to kill Farah when I got out of this . . .
The magistrate began reading off my crimes to the crowd:
“Arson of two of the Crown’s ships,” his voice reverberated through the air. “Murder of fifteen of the Kings’ advisories—”
I rolled my eyes at that. They were nothing but slave traders, and I didn’t murder them . . . exactly; they just couldn’t withstand the compulsion.
“And finally, Treason by threat of the magistrate’s wife.”
My eyes shot to the group of king’s guards off to my side, searching for two in particular. Finding them near the middle, it seemed they were evading my gaze with everything they had.
“Traitors,” I mumbled, shaking my head. “And here I thought we were becoming friends.” My voice was light, but this was actually where a cold sweat began settling in underneath my skin.
My gaze caught on Henry who was pushing himself anxiously to the front of the crowd, to Tasha who sat on his shoulder, eyeing me like I’d finally gotten what was coming. Should have never saved the bastard from his hanging.
While the magistrate finished off some, ‘By order of the Crowns,’ and unnecessary, ‘Here ye’s,’ I tried to force the burning in my palms, tried so hard that the back of my eyes hurt.
But as the king’s guard grabbed the lever that would drop the floor beneath my feet, the panic set in like a cold snake running down my spine. I stared blankly at the crowd, a chill running through me like I’d been dunked in ice water as he pulled the lever.
The tiniest spark ignited in my palms, barely flicking—
And then I dropped.
Right onto the dirt in an alley around the corner. I lay on my back, staring at the orange cloth blocking out the sun. My heart stuttered in relief, imagining everyone’s blank faces watching an empty noose swing back and forth. I wondered if they had even blinked.
That was so close, though. Too close.
A relieved laugh spilled up my throat.
“Did I somehow miss the humor?”
My heart unwillingly warmed at his voice, and I sat up, pulling off the worthless magic cuffs and brushing the dirt off my arms. “You saw that?” I asked Weston. “Wasn’t it great?”
His boots skimmed the edge of my sandaled feet, and I leaned back on my hands to look up at him. I should have been holding onto the anger I had for him, but it was a reaction I couldn’t control: my entire body heated in his presence, my heart skipping. He didn’t look so happy to see me, though, with that muscle ticking in his jaw.