“He’s lying. My name is Lady Aveen Bannon,” I insisted. Didn’t he know he was condemning me to death?
Rían reached into a bag at his feet, withdrawing a piece of parchment. “According to this death certificate, Lady Aveen Bannon died last March.”
The crowd resumed its whispering. The magistrate motioned for Rían to bring forward the damning document. Rían crossed the floor, his back ramrod straight.
“What are the charges against the witch?” Rían asked, fiddling with his shiny silver cufflinks.
The magistrate set the paper aside. “Murder.”
“Murder, you say?”
The magistrate nodded. “The witch murdered a young man named Robert Trench.”
Rían’s eyes darted to me for a split second before returning to the front of the room. “And how has it pleaded?”
The judge’s chair creaked. “How do you plead, witch?”
How did I plead?HOW DID I PLEAD? “He tried to force himself on me!” I shrieked. If they wanted to see a witch I’d give them a bloody witch. “He attacked me! He slammed my head against a wall and tried to—”
The crowd started to shout and swear, hurling insults and slurs.
The gavel cracked against the desk. “I will have order!”the judge demanded.
“And I will have justice!” I hurled back at the man. “I have a right to defend myself. I have a right to—”
Soldiers grabbed my arms, ramming me down on the stool.
“The punishment for murder is death,” the magistrate announced. “Tomorrow at dawn, you will be brought to the gallows and hung by the neck until dead.”
Rían cleared his throat.
The judge shot him an irritated glare. “Yes, emissary?”
“With all due respect, hanging isn’t the most effective way to execute a witch.”
I always knew Rían would break my heart.
I just didn’t think he’d take my life as well.
“And what, pray tell, is the most effective way to execute a witch?” asked the judge.
Rían’s eyes sparkled black when he smiled. “Beheading.”
34
I ignoredthe pewter dish of moldy bread and tin cup of sulfur water that the old guard slipped beneath the cell door. My eyes fell closed and I prayed to whoever would listen. I said I was sorry for taking a man’s life—that I was sorry for everything. As much as I didn’t want to die, I deserved this punishment. I had committed a crime, and it was only just that I suffered the consequences.
At least that’s what I told myself.
Because every time I thought of how bloody unfair this was, I wanted to burn the entire prison and everyone in it to ash.
Someone kicked the iron bars of my cell.
My eyes flew open. Rían stood on the other side, arms folded and nose wrinkled as he studied the barrier. The candle’s flickering flame reflected off the damp walls and instruments.
“What a mess you’re in,” he drawled.
Though the guard remained seated on the stool, his head lolled to the side.