Page 5 of Ash and Roses

This is my first time watching an execution. I’ve seen only seven winters, and would have happily gone a hundred more without witnessing this.

The Commander lowers the whip and at the snap of his fingers, two Guardians cut the man down. He’s limp in their arms, and I know without the faintest doubt that he’s dead. Even without the immense blood and sobs from the crowd, I would know this is what death looks like.

“Bring the boy,” the Commander barks over gasps and quiet murmurs of objection. I watch in horror as a young boy—possibly the dead man’s son, judging by his tanned skin, sand coloured hair, and sea-green eyes—is pulled from the gathering. These are people of the Jade Coast, possibly from one of the small seaside villages or Marein itself. We don’t have many Sealanders here, but their heritage is not the reason for this brutality.

“You can’t do this,” a woman from the crowd pleads as one of the Guardians ties the boy’s hands to the post, high above his head. He’s almost too small, and he needs to stand on the tips of his toes in order to keep from pulling his shoulders from their sockets. He can’t be much older than me, and seeing him on the post, which is still slick with the dead man’s blood, has me envisioning myself there.

The Commander ignores the cries of protest. No one dares interfere because they, too, would be labeled traitors to the Crown and find themselves next on the pole. I know what many of them are thinking. This boy’s death means one less mouth to feed, and food has become so scarce in recent months. His death could mean another’s survival, and that’s what makes this acceptable. Better another’s child than your own.

“What’s your name, boy?” the Commander asks once he’s secured. The whip in his hand twitches, but not in fear or reluctance. The Commander looksexcited.

“J-Jade,” the boy stammers. His head turns toward the dead man’s body, and the wetness of his eyes brings out the striking green in them. I want to look away or flee, but the Guardian holding my arms would never allow it. My father has decreed that I must watch this, and so I have no choice.

“Do you know why you have been sentenced to death?”

“I was hungry.”

“We are all hungry, but most know better than to steal.”

So that’s it. The family weren’t traitors or murderers. They were just hungry, and for that reason alone, they will die. First the father, and now the son.

Crack.

The first lash comes swiftly, and the boy’s shriek makes my stomach twist violently. I didn’t feel the sting of the whip, but by my body’s reaction, I may as well have. If there was any food in my belly at all, I’d be at risk of having it come back up.

Crack.

The Commander shows no mercy as he brings the biting leather down again and again. I no longer hear the lashes or the boy’s wails over the ringing in my ears. This is wrong. These are our people—my people.

“Stop,” I say. Or, at least I think I say it. My mouth moves, but I hear no sound so I try again. “Stop!”

The hands on my arms tighten. “It will be over soon,” the Guardian whispers in my ear. He doesn’t seem to be enjoying this either.

“No, no, no. Commander!” I elbow the Guardian in what must have been a sensitive area, because he lets go of me with a forceful huff. I dart into the square before anyone can stop me and skid to a halt between the boy and his executioner.

“This is no place for you, Abilene,” the Commander says, wiping droplets of splattered blood from his brow with the back of his hand. “This boy is a thief.”

“This boy is hungry. Release him at once.” I try to sound like my sister, but my voice is too young and small. Arabella might be younger than I, but her voice holds the force of a queen.

“The King would never allow it.”

“Commander,” my father’s voice booms from somewhere nearby. The crowd parts in bewilderment as he passes through them, flanked by four Guardians. “Do not presume to declare what I would or would not do.” His eyes flick to me. “Come here, daughter.”

I obey, because he is my king as much as he is my father. He bends down so that he’s at eye level with me, waiting for me to speak. “Please show the boy mercy.”

His response is so low that only I can hear. “I cannot. Times are hard, and the people are unhappy. They need to see what happens to criminals, otherwise they’ll all turn to thievery and far worse than that.”

I flinch as another scream fills the air. The sudden lash has me pushing away from my father and planting myself in front of the Commander again. “I said stop!”

The Commander makes a sound of annoyance. “Your Highness, perhaps she should be removed—”

“Make an example out of him,” I say, the words coming in a flurry. “Alivingexample.” The two men stare at me in confounded anger, so I jump into a hurried explanation. This is my only chance. Any moment someone will drag me back to the palace. “Look at his back. He will forever be marked. Don’t you think this child’s back will be a better reminder of what happens to thieves than killing him now? He will disappear from memory, just as that man will. Unless you allow him to live to serve a purpose.” I point to the dead man on the ground, doing everything I can to still the tremor in my outstretched arm.

“This is why a girl has no place at an execution,” the Commander scoffs. “May I resume the lashing, Your Majesty?”

My father is silent for a long moment, as if lost in deep thought. “You may not,” he says finally. “Cut him down.”

The Commander grumbles in protest, but does as he’s ordered. He pulls his sword from its sheath and slices clean through the rope. The boy—Jade, I think his name was—falls hard to the stone ground in a heap of crumpled limbs. Blood oozes from his flayed back and spreads around him in a wide crimson circle. If not for his ragged breaths and the trembling of his body, I’d think it already too late. Even still, it might very well be.

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