Page 101 of The Flame and the Forsaken

How stupid she’d been, thinking she was ready to die.

Perhaps that had been true, before she had known love.

Several of the guards broke away to subdue Erran, whose desperate protestations followed her out the door.

Mariel was dragged from the room and into the hall, realizing she had no idea where they would take her. Did the Spires have cells or a dungeon? Would she be thrown in with the violent criminals in the village jail? Taken straight to hang, to avoid a scene?

Erran screamed after them. It brought her back to the island, to the howls of the dying boar holding onto the last vestige of life.

A door slammed.

Erran’s screams progressively disappeared into the ether of the past. Of a life that was beautiful for what little she’d lived it, a taste of what happiness was for others. It was always going to end this way, she finally understood, the toes of her boots skimming halls she’d walked freely. There was no justice for the powerful, only those who dared stand tall against them.

Life as the Flame was only possible without regrets.

But she had one.

Mariel wished with all her heart she’d told Erran she loved him.

The Heart is Incapable of Lies

Chapter22

The Two Piles of Fruit

Mariel had given up on tracking time about twenty days into her house arrest. One of the staff had told her yesterday it had been two months. She couldn’t imagine what Rylahn was waiting for. His indecision wasn’t a good look, for a leader who had the rare and precious opportunity to make an example of the biggest thorn in the side of the powerful.

She supposed he was embarrassed he’d let a criminal into his own house... let her marry his heir. Perhaps if he could uncover the names of the others, Mariel’s involvement might blend into the background and lessen the scandal. But the longer he held her, the more judgment would come down on him for his hesitation.

Butsomethingabout her scared Rylahn. She’d yet to solve what it was. House arrest in his own keep, no public declaration of her capture, no singing his victory far and wide... Those were not the actions of a man who should be on top of the world, parading his prize in a triumph for all.

Even if he was cautious about how it would look for Mariel to be the face of it all, he could have made an example of Destin, but he hadn’t. Yet.

She’d been treated surprisingly well. Fed the same meals she would have eaten if she were free. Attendants were sent to assist her, and her clothing was taken to laundry. They’d even unbolted one of the windows, so she could enjoy fresh air. That had been a recent change, Hestia’s doing. Mariel hadn’t asked for it, but she was grateful to breathe in something other than the same air she’d been stuck with for weeks.

The apartment was on the topmost floor of the keep, isolated from the bustle she had been used to, in a quiet corner overlooking the sea. She spent many of her hours sitting upon the bench she’d pulled to the window, reliving the day Erran had leaped into the sea after her. The dayeverythinghad changed.

She hadn’t seen or heard from him since the evening she’d been locked away. Whether it was Rylahn’s doing or Erran’s, she couldn’t know. It hurt the same.

The door opened behind her. She didn’t bother looking. It was noontide, the hour of her first daily interrogation. That meant it was Rylahn, come to whittle her down. Hestia would be by just after supper for her own round, with her softer touch to balance the approach.

“Are you still treated well?” He always opened with the same question.

“Aye.” She always responded with the same answer.

“Do you need for anything?”

“Nay.”

“Very well.” His chair scraped the stones as he dragged it to the window.

“How is my brother?”

“Still on house arrest, like you. Never misses a meal.” His answer never changed, but that was why she asked every time, because as long as Destin was still in the keep, he was safe. She was still grateful every day that Rylahn had moved him from the jail, even if his reasons hadn’t been altruistic.

The subsequent silence was for the question she never asked—couldn’t ask.And Erran?

“Mariel.” Rylahn straddled his chair across from her. “Sixty-one days you’ve been in here.”

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