Page 70 of A Kingdom of Destruction

The ice continued down into the pit of her stomach as a strong sense of foreboding filled her mouth with a bitter taste. Too soon they were back in the throne room where she’d stood all those days ago. Right before Cillian had stepped in and saved her from whatever King Donal had planned to do to her in retribution. A fae life taken.

Today, only a few strips of bark had been stolen. No, not stolen, she mentally corrected. The soldiers recovered any strips the two men stuffed into their rucksacks.

So why the fuss?

Why the display?

The room filled with more people than there had been during her own sentencing. She glanced from side to side, growing smaller with every passing beat, until she was nothing but a scrap of dandelion fuzz on the wind, only held in place by Roran’s punishing grip.

This time the Fae King sat alone on his throne. Cillian was nowhere to be seen, and where she’d once stood, the two human men huddled together.

They looked so small, so fragile. With chains wrapped around their arms and necks, dragging them down, they might as well have been carved from sand in some child’s box. Just as easily smashed as well.

“Watch,” Roran whispered harshly in her ear, his breath icy against her skin.

“Why are you doing this?” she wanted to know, looking up at him.

He lifted his lips up in a snarl urging her to stay silent. Aven could have sworn those teeth lengthened into canines, but when she blinked, the imagery passed. With no other choice, she turned to the humans, her horror growing as the guards pressed in closer.

“Do you have any idea the severity of your crimes?” King Donal, unbothered, studied the tips of his boots. Like the stitching there was more important than the punishment he was surely going to mete out today.

What other choice was there?

He wouldn’t have urged everyone into the room unless he fully planned for a spectacle.

Even with the horror growing inside of her, rage kindled along with it, until the two feelings twined together into an unbreakable rod of steel. She felt it inside of her.

“Speak.” The King barked out the word, and both humans flinched.

“We needed the bark,” the older man insisted. His voice was a tremulous and reedy thing, too thin to make any real impact. “My wife is sick. A tonic made out of the bark will break her fever and bring her back to good health.”

“And you thought stealing it from my land would be the right way to do this?”

“I knew you wouldn’t give it to me if I were to ask. Your Majesty.” The human showed remarkable strength of character. He lifted his head and even from his crouched position, he stared the Fae King dead in the eyes. “You have a low opinion of humans, but the bark is only found here, in the forests around your stronghold. I took a chance.” The man glanced at his son. “Please don’t punish the boy. He didn’t want me to come along, but the entire thing was my idea. He had nothing to do with it.”

King Donal lifted himself from the throne. “Oh, I highly doubt you’re telling the truth. Mortals are known to be liars. It’s pathetic.”

Although he didn’t look at her, Aven knew he’d spoken those words for her benefit as well.

“The bark does not belong to you. The healing properties are not yours to access. You trespassed on my land, and no matter your intentions, you stole from me. That type of behavior warrants a strict punishment. I believe I will make an example of you. There is truly no other option.”

“No.” Aven struggled against Roran’s grip to free herself. To do what, she didn’t know. She had to get there. Had to get between the King and those men. The son was younger than her; he still had a long life ahead of him.

“Hold still,” Roran hissed. “You’re going to draw attention to yourself.”

“How can I hold still when something terrible is about to happen?”

There was no justice here. Not in any sense of the word.

At the King’s command, guards brought in several sturdy poles, the wood gleamed dully in the light, freshly oiled. They hoisted them in the center of the room, magic securing them to the marble floor with a sickening finality.

Aven’s stomach lurched as she realized their purpose.

Gods, no. They won’t—they can’t?—

“Please, Roran, you have to do something,” she urged. She turned to him and pulled him down to her, gripping the fabric of his shirt. “You have to stop this.”

“I’m no hero.” He refused to look at her. “You know that by now.”

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