Page 71 of A Kingdom of Destruction

“You don’t need to be. But you can still stand up for what’s right. The man’s wife is sick. Please.” She’d get down on her knees and beg if it would make a difference.

To her growing frustration, she knew nothing would.

“It’s time for the mortals to learn that there is nothing they can do to stand up against Mourningvale!” King Donal lifted his voice until every syllable rang from the rafters. The electric charge of magic filled the air, and the strength of it brought queasy waves to her overheated stomach.

A cheer lifted from the rest of the crowd, bloodthirsty and eager.

The young son huddled against his father, the chains like an anchor around his neck and his face bleached of all color. A dark stain spread across his breeches—he’d wet himself in terror.

Roran held Aven tightly, locking her in place to force her to watch the spectacle. That was exactly the scene in front of her, the barbarity of it.

“Why does it matter?” Aven hissed to him. “Why would anyone deserve such a harsh punishment for stealing a few scraps of bark?”

He grabbed her around the middle, holding his wrists to create a chain around her when her body refused to still. “I’m sorry.”

“Tell me.”

He only shook his head, and it fueled the fight inside of her. Poured fuel on a spark of flame and turned it into a raging inferno. It didn’t matter that there was no way for her to help. The injustice prevailed with the rest of the fae exuberant. Waiting for blood to spill.

24

“Aven, you need to calm down.Now.” Roran bit out the last word, gnashing his teeth beside her ear in a clear warning.

There was no calming down. Not as the fae guards lynched both father and son to the poles and dragged them up by their feet to hang them upside down. Not when the boy’s terrified shriek tore through the air. Not when the father screamed his love for his son, begging forgiveness, his voice breaking with every word. Not when the crowd erupted, wild and frenzied, as magic crackled and surged, filling the air with an electric charge and the acrid stench of burning.

No, that wasn’t the magic. Woodwasburning.

Someone had lit the kindling beneath them, and both humans struggled to free themselves. The Fae King had finally gotten the pyre he’d desired, only she wasn’t the one about to burn to death.

Aven saw red. Where was Cillian?

Why wasn’t he here doing something to save their lives?

She fought harder against Roran to get to them. She had to save them in whatever way she could. She’d steal the guards’weapons and cut down whoever got in her path. She’d draw runes from blood and set the entire ballroom on fire to get that man and his son free. She’d?—

“Enough.” Roran’s power pulsed through her body as he changed positions to wrestle her into calming down. “You’re going to getyourselfkilled.”

It didn’t matter what happened to her. Not with the other humans slowly dying and being tormented for the pleasure of the crowd, the pleasure of a destructive king who had more interest in some pathetic tree bark than empathy. Compassion.

Those things didn’t exist in Mourningvale. They were fae. Monsters.

How had she forgotten?

Aven shouted, but the sound was lost under the roaring cheers from the savage fae in the crowd. Not from the humans, with whatever they’d done to the tree. Only beasts like these nobles took pleasure in the suffering of others.

“I don’t care,” Aven raged. “Kill me, then, and be done with it.” She bucked and kicked to break his hold on her.

Roran was just as relentless as the rest of them. With a grunt and a growl she felt down to her soul, he spun them both around, handling her through her rage and walking out of the room.

“There is a reason,” he began once they reached the relative hush of the hall, “that mortals have magic and are hated by the fae for it. There is a reason for such strict punishments when mortals trespass on our lands and steal. Have you ever askedwhy?”

It was harder to breathe out there for some reason. So much harder than before. Her heart thrashed in her chest, an offbeat tempo just above the hollow gauntness of the voice in her chest. Madness sparked through her, and she knew she wouldn’t stop until she got back in that room. Before she saved those people.

Fury mingled with everything else, and her veins filled with it as she screamed at Roran. “Does it really matter? It’s a tree! They were taking bark off a damn tree. His wife was dying.”

He flipped her onto her back on the floor and straddled her, struggling to maintain his hold through her outrage. His short silver hair spilled down over his face, his eyes just as angry and boring into hers. He bared his teeth and said, “What’s the use in explaining to you if you’re just going to go crazy? You don’t listen to me.”

She sent her fist into his ribs, and Roran let the hit bounce off him like he hadn’t even felt it.

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