Page 64 of A Kiss of Embers
“Traditions can change. It is never too late to start anew.”
After a few moments of trying to dissect his words, she turned and continued down the tunnel leading to the man she loved. Attleglade could take their land, the Glades, their dignity, but there was hell to pay now that they took Bastien.
Ignorant Imp backhanded Bastien across the face, the strike hard enough to bring him to his knees. But still, he fought back.
“No!” he screamed as Cranky Cricket threw a torch inside one of the windows and closed the shutters tight. He twisted against his captors’ grips, barely managing to get free before two others jumped on him and pinned him to the ground. “My father is still in there. Please, I beg you. Please!”
The villagers around him shouted in outrage, demanding answers and a quick rescue. But the council’s lackeys restrained them, keeping them from helping his father.
“He’s done nothing wrong!” Bastien screeched, continuing his fight against the other men but losing when someone smashed his face into the grass. “I did it! I took Nyana to the Glades. No one else was involved, especially not my father. He’s innocent!”
More outrage on his father’s behalf, and when his father’s cough sounded from within the tree, Bastien screamed as he managed to shove the others off him. He sprinted toward the tree now with flames and smoke billowing from the cracks in the windows and door.
Before he managed to reach the door, something slammed into the back of his shoulder, and he cried out in pain, dropping to his hands and knees. The warmth of blood seeped into his tunic, shock coursing through his body like it did every time he received a new wound. His arm refused to lift when he tried to push himself off the ground again.
Through the pain, he managed to get to his feet one more time, reaching for the door. The fire burned his hand, and he knew his father was gone long before he touched the handle.
And then someone pulled him back and shoved his face to the ground once more, this time tying his hands behind his back and securing a tight rope around his neck. They pulled him to his feet, and he obliged lest the air strangle from his lungs.
“You are all cowards!” Bastien yelled to the other villagers as they simply stood by and watched the debacle. The rope tightened around his throat, and he struggled for breath. But he wasn’t done. “That man has done nothing but serve you for years! And when he needs you the most, you abandon him because someone told you to. Cowards! All of you!”
Some people lowered their heads in shame. Others stared with horrified expressions as the fire climbed the tree.
Ignorant Imp tugged him forward like an ox being led to the slaughter. Grief slammed hard into him as he realized he’d lost his father. With a snap of his fingers, it was all over and done. And it was his fault. This would never have happened if Bastien had stayed in line. If he hadn’t snuck Nyana into the Glades to heal her from her deadly curse. If he hadn’t fallen in love with Seraphina and brought devastation upon his family.
Although he didn’t know where Seraphina was, he doubted the fire could harm her. But his father had been defenseless against the flames.
Behind him, someone pulled the arrow out of his shoulder. He screamed at the sudden agony, and his surroundings spun as he attempted to juggle the pain, the grief, the devastation, and the hopelessness.
One moment, he was on his feet being led by the bit. The next moment, he landed on a hard floor in a prison cell, dirt and dust tickling his nostrils.
A boot collided with his side. He grunted as a new wave of fiery pain encompassed his ribs. Through the pain, he still managed a glare at the three guards in the prison with him. It seemed they weren’t taking any more chances after what happened when Ashryn broke Pri out of her cell. Though, he would take the secret to his grave.
Cranky Cricket peered at him through the bars and sneered. “Set up the gallows,” he ordered one of his soldiers. “It’s high time we see the half-breed hang.”
“What are you so afraid of?” Bastien seethed as he forced himself to his feet, towering over the older man. “You’ve coveted my father’s position as chief for years. Are you afraid thehalf-breedheir will ruin your chances to become chief?”
“Watch your mouth,” he hissed.
“You’ve done everything in your power to see my father suffer, though I suspect you meant to kill him a couple of times. Now I’m the only person standing in your path.”
After a nod from the old man, one of the soldiers punched him in the gut through the bars. Bastien grunted and doubled over as he tried to catch his breath from the blow.
“A half-breed can never rule as chief over Attleglade.” Cranky Cricket casually fixed his sleeves despite the rage sitting on his face. “It’s the law.”
“Show me this law. Prove it.”
The fist flew through the bars once again, too fast for him to dodge. This time as it struck him, he collapsed to his knees with his hand clutched to his stomach. Through gritted teeth, he climbed back to his feet and faced them down. If he were to die tomorrow, then they would have to fight him the entire way.
The stench of smoke permeated the prison house, reminding him exactly why he hated the council with every fiber of his being. His fists clenched at his sides. His blood boiled with rage. “Why couldn’t you just let us be? Why did you have to drag my father back here all those years ago and make a scene? Why did you have to destroy my family?”
“Because,” the man glared, “traditions must be upheld at all costs. Even if it means the death of the chief.”
Bastien wanted to grab the man through the bars and snap his neck. But his father wouldn’t have wanted him to stain his soul before his death. So he forced himself to step back and stare coldly through the bars.
“A person incapable of kindness should never be allowed in the chief’s seat.”
Instead of answering him, Cranky Cricket stormed out of the jailhouse, leaving him alone with the three guards. He was flattered, really, that they thought him equal to three men. And he wanted to prove them right. He’d escape through his father’s tunnels and…
