Damian was on his knees near the stairs down to the dungeon. His ankles were tied together, his wrists bound in front of him. A guard was behind him with a blade. The king and queen stood not far away, along with Jovita and a few more guards. Cas was not there.
It didn’t seem as if the king and queen, who had their backs to her, had noticed her presence, but Damian stared right at her. He was filthy and bloody, one eye partially swollen shut.
She couldn’t move. Tears welled in her eyes, but his were clear, his expression grim but steady. His lips twisted into the saddest smile she’d ever seen.
“Em, they might see you.” Iria tugged on her arm. Em wriggled free. Iria grabbed her again. “If they see—”
“Let go of her.” Aren’s voice was a growl, and Iria’s body shot backward, as if suddenly hurled across the lawn by an invisible force. Aren gasped as she hit the ground.
Aren raced across the grass to her crumpled body. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“I’m fine.” Iria slapped his hand away.
Em turned back to the lawn. The king made a motion for the guards to proceed.
“Aren.” Her voice came out as a strangled whisper. “I can’t let him die.”
He was behind her suddenly, his hand finding hers. “You will not die with him.” His voice wobbled.
Damian was still looking in her direction, and she watched as he brought his bound hands up to his heart. He tapped his fist against his chest twice in the official Ruina salute to the queen.
The guard raised his sword.
Aren lowered his forehead onto her shoulder, whispering, “I can’t look.” She could barely hear him through the blood rushing in her ears.
“For the crime of murder and treason, the kingdom of Lera sentences you to death,” Em heard the king say. “May the ancestors see something in you that we did not.”
The king nodded at the guard holding the sword. He lifted it into the air, hesitating for a moment as he found his mark.
The blade crashed down.
NINETEEN
“HE WOULD BE an excellent leader, Emelina.”
Em looked up at her mother, then through the open window to where Damian stood outside. He ducked suddenly, barely missing the ball Olivia threw dangerously close to his head.
“Oops,” Olivia said with a giggle. Her long, dark hair was pulled tight in a ponytail, and it swung back and forth as she bounced on her heels, extending her hand as she waited for the ball to return.
“I guess,” Em said to her mother, turning her attention back to her book. “If Olivia likes him.”
“I meant for you.”
Em looked up, surprised. Wenda Flores stood with her back to the bookshelves, the red, green, and black spines extending far over her head, almost all the way to the ceiling.
She cocked one thin eyebrow at her daughter. “He likes you. I’m sure you’ve noticed.”
“He’s too powerful to marry someone useless,” Em said with a hint of bitterness.
“Just because your Ruined power never manifested doesn’t mean you won’t pass it to your children. You’re still a royal. You’ll lead the Ruined, and he belongs in that position with you.”
“Olivia will lead, not me.”
“You will be your sister’s most important adviser. You’ll have almost as much influence over Ruina as she will.”
Em shrugged, glancing out at Damian again. He caught her eye and smiled. He wasn’t the worst choice. But she also didn’t look at him the way her mother looked at her father. Like the world would go up in flames if something happened to him.
“Em!” Olivia ran to the window, bracing her hands on either side of it. Her eyes were wide with excitement. “They caught another spy from Lera. They’re bringing him now!” She pointed past Damian, where a wagon and horses rolled toward the castle.
“That was fast,” Wenda said, the skirts of her red dress swishing across the floor as she walked to the door. “Have you been practicing, Olivia?”
“Every day,” Olivia said seriously.
“Good.” Wenda smiled at Em. “Your sister is going to take that man’s head clean off his body. Would you like to come watch?”
The memory slammed into Em’s brain just after waking. A sick feeling rolled through her stomach and she darted out of bed, gasping for air.
She’d forgotten that day. It had been shortly before Lera attacked, and the memory had faded in favor of the bigger, more horrifying events that followed.
Em had gone to watch. Olivia hadn’t been able to do it (though she did break the skin around his neck), so a guard had eventually stepped in with a sword. Em had looked away when it happened.
But she hadn’t wondered who he was. She couldn’t even remember his face now. If he was young or thin or if he had a beard. She remembered blood dripping down his neck. She remembered the screaming.
It hadn’t occurred to her at the time that he could have been someone’s Damian. Someone’s friend or husband or father.