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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 Governor 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 awaits 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
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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, preparing 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 look 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 mother, 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 steps forward and lifts her ax. It will be one clean sweep, 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
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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.
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