“You aren’t heading to the execution?” I asked.
“I’ve seen enough death.” Her husky voice barely reached me. Her pale gold eyes found mine. “Why aren’t you running off to join the crowd? You aren’t afraid you will miss it?”
I wish I could miss the execution. I glanced toward the castle, and I wrapped my shawl tighter. “I’ve heard tale Sir Grigfen Tomlinson was with the prince the night of the treason. But no one has seen him since. You haven’t heard any rumors—”
“About your brother?” She scratched her dog’s ears. I lowered my eyes. “Aye, I know who you are, miss. I also know you’d do anything for information, so how’s about a trade?”
I knelt before her table. “I have few coins.”
“No, coins aren’t enough. I’m looking for land. Far away from the city.”
I scoffed. “You expect me to trade my family’s land for information?” This was not my first market day.
“No, miss.” She bit her lip. “There’s no information to be had. Not one soul knows where your brother is. I tell you true. I’m offering you more than information.” She glanced over her shoulder before she pulled an unassuming silver bottle from a shell-lined pocket. “I’m offering you answers, and a path to a good future, for you and your family.”
I leaned away from the table. King Edvarg published every word of that contract my father had signed, and the Devout proclaimed to everyone who would stop at the Abbey gates about the council’s decision to drink the Savak seer water. With her words and the twisting in my stomach, I recognized the contents of the bottle without a taste. Seer water. Treason and answers in one gulp. But why reveal it to me now? Seer water was worth a thousand gold pieces at the least.
I stared at the woman. This kingdom was such a melting pot; there were merchants from every kingdom, each one a different height, weight, nationality, and gender, but somehow, they seemed stamped from the same design.
Except her.
Her dyed silver hair. Her pale eyes. Of course. She was a Savak in hiding, and if she wanted to flee … The Savak hated deserters more than any enemy. If she was found here when they came to claim our throne, she’d be among the first to die.
“One year’s lease,” I offered. But where would she be safest? “The orchard at Avenlo. It’s been closed for decades, but there should be wild apples, plenty of squirrels and rabbits. The house isn’t much, but it should be warm enough when frost comes. Three days west, follow the river until Forest Hill when you turn south.”
“My wife and I thank you heartily.” Her eyes shone. “Goddess blessings on you,” she whispered.
The moons-light brightened and I felt a swelling of hope in my chest. I would find my brother. I had to. No one else was looking.
I took the seer water and sniffed it. Not well water or wine. I’d never smelled something so crisp before. There was no trick. She’d sold me seer water for a year lease. I’d never won such a bargain before. I closed the stopper and tucked it away before anyone could see me.
“Best hurry, my lady,” she said. “Don’t want to miss your summons.”
I swallowed. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Her leathered face creased in a grin. “I’ll keep your secrets if you keep mine.”
I offered my hand and she shook it. “That’s a deal if I’ve ever made one.”
The gong sounded again. Third time. I drew a breath. I couldn’t delay any longer. I had to be about my father’s business.
* * *
God below, guide my axe.
My thoughts were more prayer than plan. I stood alone in front of the tall stone doors, as nervous as the first time I attended a ball, but this time my older brother wasn’t here to push them open for me. This time I was heading toward death, and it was not my own. My knees shook, and I couldn’t move. I wasn’t ready to step out of the dark tunnel and into the gallows.
Not yet.
Heavy drums pounded in the distance, each boom echoing in my rib cage. The black robes of the King’s Executioner covered my corset and bloomers, and the weight of the gilded axe pressed into my shoulder, heavy as a bag of laundry.
Would the blood stain my robes?
Don’t think about it.
I drew a breath, but didn’t open the door.
The tunnel smelled like my father—of ink and blood, sweat and polish. It smelled of his tears. He’d warned me taking a life would not be easy. He said it destroyed a piece of his soul to do it.
But he still did it. And with Father gone, I had to take his place.
If only my brother were here to answer the summons. If Grigfen had worn the robes, he wouldn’t have stood out. His height was closer to my father’s, his shoulders larger.
Perhaps it was good he wasn’t here for this. It would kill him to kill another. He’d received the muscles, but I was the one who’d inherited my grandmother’s strength.
I tugged the sword belt lower on my hips and widened my stance. I was a large woman, thick as my father. Perhaps they would not think me a woman below the robes.
I could do this.
My fingers twitched inside the witch-made gloves. I lowered the black hood over my mask and tried not to think of the person I would kill on the king’s orders. It could be anyone. A dissenter who spoke out against our new king. A traitor, like the servants who helped King Vinton leave.
The new king demanded a show of strength. With war looming on the horizon, our people needed it. And there was no stronger hero than the King’s Executioner—he who came from below the streets to kill in the king’s name. He mingled with the Undergod. He was holy and secret and sacred.
His title was the mask my family wore, and that was worth protecting.
I pressed the door with the palms of my golden witch-made gloves. The solid wall slid open in front of me, and I stepped through into the night.
At the base of the castle, where some kingdoms would keep a moat, my kingdom held an arena. A half circle of steps made risers to aid the crowd’s view.
The awaiting crowd scattered away as the wall behind me closed. Half-melted candles arched around the wall, where names were etched.
The onlookers cheered for my arrival as if I were the star of a theatrical. It’d been too long since I’d heard a kind word, so now this mob celebrating my presence felt like a feast to the starving. Almost comforting. But the lie in their love made the warmth curdle at the base of my throat.
I’d been spat on for my father’s actions. They were cheering for a title, and not the girl behind the hood.
I focused on the raised platform, covered in straw at the center of the arena, and the blackened block that awaited me. I walked the way my father would have, shoulders wide, hips straight, keeping silent as the lowborn moved out of my way. No one could see the tears scratching my cheeks. No one could hear my pulse racing.
No one except me.
I could face this. My father had. My grandmother had. My family had carried the secret title and responsibility for four generations, hiding our heavy duty behind our noble name and lands. I’d always been proud of it, of my grandmother’s kills, which had stopped the Devani revolt, of my father’s high standing with our old king. But I never thought twice about those who died.