When the dungeon door rattles, my skin prickles, and I know even
before opening my eyes who will escort me to the gallows.
“Morning, Snake,” I greet him.
“Get up, bastard,” Marcus says. “It’s nearly dawn, and you have an
appointment.”
Four unfamiliar Masks and a squad of legionnaires stand behind him.
Marcus looks at me like I’m a roach, but strangely, I don’t mind. My sle ep
was dreamless and de ep, and I rise languidly, stretching as I meet the
Snake’s eyes.
“Chain him,” Marcus says.
“Doesn’t the great Emperor have more important things to do than escort
a mere criminal to the gallows?” I ask. The guards clamp an iron collar
around my neck and hobble my legs. “Shouldn’t you be out scaring small
children or killing your relatives?”
Marcus ’s face darkens, but he doesn’t rise to the bait. “I wouldn’t miss
this for anything.” His yellow eyes glitter. “I’d have raised the ax myself,
but the Commandant thought it unseemly. Besides, I’d much rather watch
my Blood Shrike do it.”
It takes a moment before I realize that he means for Helene to kill me.
He’s watching me, waiting for my disgust, but it never comes. The thought
of Helene taking my life is strangely comforting. I’d rather die by her hand
than an unknown executioner’s. She’ll make it clea n and quick.
“Still listening to what my old lady tells you, eh?” I say. “Guess you’ll
always be her lapdog.”
Anger flashes across Marcus’s face, and I grin. So, the trouble’s already
begun. Excellent.
“The Commandant is wise,” Marcus says. “I ke ep her counsel and will
do so as long as it suits me.” He drops the formal posturing and leans close,
the smugness rolling off him so thickly that I think I’ll choke on it. “She
helped me with the Trials from the beginning. Your own mother told me
what was coming, a nd the Augurs never even knew.”
“So what you’re saying is that you cheated and you still barely managed
to win.” I applaud slowly, my chains clanking. “Well done.”
Marcus seizes my collar and slams my head into the wall. I groan before
I can help myself, feeling as if a great chunk of stone has been driven into
my skull. The guards unleash a volley of punches to my stomach, and I
drop to my knees. But when they back away, satisfied that I’ve been cowed,
I dive forward and take Marcus out at the waist. He’s still sputtering when I
snatch a dagger from his belt and hold it to his throat.
Four scims whip out of their scabbards, eight bows notch, and all are
pointed at me.
“I’m not going to kill you,” I say, nestling the blade into his neck. “Just
wanted you to know I could. Now take me to my execution, Emperor.”
I drop the knife. If I’m going to die, it will be because I refused to
murder a girl. Not because I slit the Emperor’s throat.
Marcus shoves me away, grinding his teeth in rage.
“Get him up, you idiots,” he roars at the guards. I can’t help but laugh,
and he strides out of my cell, seething. The Masks lower their scims and
haul me to my feet. Free, Elias. You’re almost free.
Outside, the stones of Blackcliff are gentled by the dawn, and the cool
air warms quickly, promising a scorching day. A wild wind races through
the dunes and breaks upon the granite of the school. I might not miss these
walls as a dead man, but I will miss the wind and the scents it carries, of
faraway places where freedom can be found in life instead of death.
Minutes later, we arrive at the belltower courtyard, where a platform has
been erected for my beheading.
Blackcliff’s students dominate the yard, but there are other faces here
too. I see Cain beside the Commandant and G overnor Tanalius. Behind
them, the heads of Serra’s Illustrian houses stand shoulder - to - shoulder with
the city’s top military brass. Grandfather isn’t here, and I wonder if the
Commandant’s moved against him yet. She will at some point. She’s spent
years coveting rulership of Gens Veturia.
I straighten my shoulders and hold my head high. When the ax comes
down, I will die the way Grandfather would want me to: proudly, like a
Veturius. Always victorious.
I turn my attention to the platform, where death await s me in the form of
a polished ax held by my best friend. She glows in her ceremonials, looking
more like an empress than a Blood Shrike.
Marcus breaks off, and the crowd shifts back as he moves to stand
beside the Commandant. The four Masks march me up the platform stairs. I
think I catch a flash of movement beneath the gallows, but before I can look
again, I’m on the platform beside Helene. The few people who had been
speaking fall silent as Hel turns me to face the crowd.
“Look at me,” I whisper, needing , suddenly, to see her eyes. The Augurs
made her swear fealty to Marcus. I understand that. It’s a consequence of
my failure. But now, pr eparing me for death, she is cold - eyed and
hardhanded. Not a single tear. Did we never laugh together as Yearlings?
Did we never fight our way out of a Barbarian camp, or fall into joyful
hysterics after successfully robbing our first farmhouse, or carry each other
when one of us was too weak to go on alone? Did we never love each
other?
She ignores me, and I make myself l ook away from her and into the
crowd. Marcus leans toward the governor, listening to something he says.
It’s strange not to see Zak at his back. I wonder if the new Emperor misses
his twin. I wonder if he will think rulership is worth the death of the only
human who ever understood him.
On the other side of the courtyard, Faris stands taller and wider than
everyone else, his eyes bewildered as a lost child’s. Dex is beside him, and
I’m surprised at the streak of wetness that runs down his rigid jaw.
My moth er, meanwhile, looks more relaxed than I’ve ever seen her. And
why not? She’s won.
Beside her, Cain watches me, his cowl thrown back. Lost, he said, just a
few weeks ago, like a leaf in the wind. And so I am. I won’t forgive him for
the Third Trial. But I can thank him for helping me understand what true
freedom is. He nods in acknowledgment, reading my thoughts one last time.
Helene removes the metal collar. “Kneel,” she says.
My mind snaps back to the platform, and I submit to her order.
“Is this how it ends, Helene?” I’m surprised at how civil I sound, as if
I’m asking her about a book she’s read but that I have yet to finish.
Her eyes flicker, so I know she hears me. She says nothing, just checks
the chains on my legs and arms and then nods to the Commandant. My
mother reads the charges against me, which I don’t pay much attention to,
and pronounces the punishment, which I also ignore. Dead is dead, no
matter how it happens.
Helene st eps forward and lifts her ax. It will be one clean swe ep, left to
right. Air. Neck. Air. Elias dead.
Now it hits me. This is it. This is the end. Martial tradition says a soldier
who dies well dances among the stars, battling foes for all eternity. Is that
what awaits me? Or will I slip into endless darkness, unbroken and quiet?
Uneasiness latches onto me, like it’s been waiting around a corner all
this time and only now has the gall to emerge. Where do I fix my eyes? On
the crowd? The sky? I want comfort. I know I won’t find any.
I look at Helene again. Who else is there? She’s only two feet away, her
hands loose around the ax handle.
Look at me. Don’t make me face this alone.
As if she’s heard my thoughts, her eyes meet mine, that familiar pale
blue offering me solace, even as she lifts the ax. I think of the first time I
looked into those eyes, as a freezing six - year - old getting pummeled in the
culling pen. I’ll watch your back, she’d said, with all the gravitas of a
Cadet. If you watch mine. We can make it if we stick together.
Does she remember that day? Does she remember all the days since?
I’ll never know. As I stare into her eyes, she brings the ax down. I hear
the whoosh as it cuts through the air and feel the burn of steel biting into
my neck.