Page 65 of The Flame and the Forsaken

The touch of her old animosity for him was a dagger to the heart. He fastened his mouth to her forehead and fought back the swell of sadness rising in him. “No, Mariel. I would be devastated.”

She broke away and looked up, presumably trying to discern whether he was being truthful or mocking, whether to stay or run. “It’s as I said before. Obsidian Sky is likely over.”

“Likely isn’t good enough.” He gripped her face in his, deciding to hold back nothing. “I will give you all the gold you could ever want or need, to do whatever you want with it. More than you could ever steal. Whatever... whatever you want. Just please,pleasedon’t challenge him. He’s a fair man about most matters, but he wouldn’t be about this. The barons look to him to solve a problem that has affected them all, and he’s been under so much pressure... If I have to beg you, I will.”

“Erran...” Her face crumpled. “I’ll stop, all right?”

“Promise.” His voice was split with fear.

“I promise,” she breathed. Her hand reached to cup his face. “I promise.”

Erran kissed her in grateful relief, flipping her and pinning her against the bank with the temperate force she always went wild for. He couldn’t let such a wonderful day end on a somber note. “Now, about this soap...”

“Guardians, are you trying to kill us both with infections?”

He traced his hands down her cheeks. “Would you not die happy?”

Mariel laughed, an utterly magical sound he wished he could summon whenever his heart was heavy. Her eyes had softened, glossing over. “I would.” She pulled her expression into a mischievous scowl. “Unless the infection was painful and ghastly, in which case you better hope I die last because I would be one vengeful ghost.”

“That is now thesecondtime you’ve threatened to haunt me.”

“How many times must I repeat the threat before you believe it?”

Erran tilted her chin and kissed her. “You’re not worriedI’dhauntyou?”

“I don’t ken you would be a worrisome specter.” She frowned, her eyes fluttering upward in thought. “A little too nice, maybe, to scare anyone.”

“If this is a ploy to challenge my masculinity so I’ll despoil you to prove you’re wrong...” He pressed his hard-on against her, relieved to have the words behind him, her response exactly what he’d been going for. “It’s working.”

Mariel cinched her arms tighter around him and dragged her lip through her teeth. “It better be, princeling.”

Erran wasin the middle square of Whitecliffe. The crowd was so thick, he couldn’t see through it, but he knew it was the middle square, and not the east or west, by the scaffold in the center towering over all of them.

He couldn’t remember getting there. The morning was lost to him, as were the preceding days, but the dread settling in his chest meant some part of him understood why he was standing and waiting to watch an execution.

Hamish came up beside him with a heavy, resolved gait. He hung his head, shaking it. “Ye donnae need to watch this, mate, aye? Some things are jus’ more than a man can handle.”

Erran started to ask Hamish why he was there, since his friend seemed to know more than he did, but the same trepidation stayed his words.

“We did all we could,” Samuel said, appearing from thin air. “All we could, Erran. And we all tried, even Khallum. Even your mother stepped in.”

“Let us take this from ye,” Hamish said. “As yer best mates.”

The sinking feeling intensified as the crowd’s chattering lowered to a din. Someone called out an announcement for the king, and Erran was overcome with a relief that was just as confusing and elusive as the dread. If the king was visiting, then his father was probably making an example of some seditionist who had plotted against the crown, which had nothing to do with him.

A pulsing sound rippled through the air, but no one else seemed to take notice. Erran looked up at the sky, shot with green and gold, like it sometimes did when a cyclone was imminent, but the air was still.

The sound persisted, and he soon realized it was his pulse, so loud the entire world should have been able to hear it, but the other hundreds gathered were focused on the king’s impending appearance.

He realized Mariel wasn’t with him. He couldn’t remember how he’d gotten there or the last time he’d spoken with her. There were other women there. His last fully fleshed memory was from the island, the day they’d washed their clothes in the river and she’d sworn to stop her brigandry. How relieved he’d been then, but it was all gone now, washed away in the creeping uncertainty of a moment that felt like a turning point, but he could not quite put his finger on why.

King Khain stepped onto the podium, and a full hush blanketed the crowd. “We are here because there are some laws that transcend Reach. Our system of lords and stewards is sacrosanct, and predates even the crown. I traveled here to set an example for all others who would be tempted to follow the example of the defunct Obsidian Sky. If you remove the head, the body will fall.”

Mariel was dragged onto the platform, her entire body wrapped in chains.

“No!” Erran shouted, and everyone turned to look at him.

The king’s eyes narrowed in annoyance.

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