Four weeks had passed by the morning when Torello came in with a washtub.
I stared at it as if it were a foreign object. “What is this for?”
“Yer to wash.”
I blinked at the washtub, at a loss where to start. I felt my tangled hair, which had been long neglected, and looked down to my filthy skin.
“Either you do it yourself, or I will.”
I stood and went to squat beside the basin. “May I have some privacy?”
He sucked his teeth and stepped out, slamming the door behind him. I washed in the cold, cold water, sluicing the worst of the grime from my body. There were no mirrors, no one to tell me how dirty and bedraggled I had become, but I could see the water darken from the dirt coming off my body. I had no comb to untangle the knots in my hair and had to make do with my fingers. Once I was back in the same filthy gown that I had been wearing for the past month, the guard reentered, but he was not alone.
Adair sauntered into the room, his resplendent blue doublet with its silver buttons and crisp lines seemed grossly out of place among the squalor of my cell. I forced myself to stand and glowered at him with every ounce of hatred I could muster.
“Maea, you look… well.” He smirked, and I hated myself for loving that smile.
“What do you want from me, Adair?” I snarled.
“Temper, temper. I have never seen this side of you before, Maea, but I will admit I rather like it.”
His words infuriated me, and I cast about for something to strike him with. Perhaps I had gone a bit mad during my long confinement, but I had thought of nothing but seeing him die for too long.
“Now, I would not try anything rash. I am your last hope for salvation.”
“What do you want?” I repeated. My hands balled into fists at my sides.
“Straight to the point, then? Well, you have had a taste of what awaits you if you choose to be against me. I will not stand for those that oppose me to remain in my kingdom.”
“We are all forced to love you or be exiled?”
He smiled. “My people do love me, Maea, and you know that for a fact.”
I would not admit defeat in this. “I will ask again what do you want, Adair.”
“I want you to choose me. I meant what I said before, you are the woman I would have chosen for myself were it my right.”
I wanted to laugh in his face. That Adair had been in another world, a world where I was a naïve girl who would believe his lies. “How dare you say that to me when I know Sabine was always of your choosing. All of this was part of your plan.” I swept my arm, gesturing to the filthy cell.
He moved closer to me, and I recoiled, but he seemed nonplussed. He reached out to take a strand of my damp and messy hair. “Not this, Maea, I had great plans for this country with you by my side, but if you are unwilling to yield to me, I have no choice.”
My body ached to give in to his silky voice, the lips that I knew were soft and inviting, but my head rebelled against it. He had killed his uncle and imprisoned me for the crime. I could never condone such an act, but maybe there was still hope.
“Adair, I cannot condone your actions, but if you admit what you have done, turn away from this path of destruction you have chosen, then I may be willing to reconsider. Before I came to Keisan, before all of this transpired, I saw the death of everyone, and it sprang from your union with Sabine, the son you will have!”
He withdrew. “I know of the prophecy. Maea, you are not the first diviner to prophesize this, and my son will not be our damnation but a savior of nations.”
“You knew all along?”
“I did. Why did you think I desired your abilities so? I needed you. I still need you.”
I pulled away and pressed my back against the wall. He knew this entire time, and he used me. The shock of it cut me deeper than his betrayal. I could have forgiven him had he been ignorant of the truth, but to know and orchestrate the death of thousands willingly; it was monstrous.
“I will not join you in this, Adair. I would rather rot away in this cell.”
His expression closed off, and he retracted the hand he was reaching out to me. “I am sorry to hear that. This is your last chance. I will not show you mercy going forward.”
“I want none of your mercy.”
“So be it.”
He strode to the door and rapped upon it. It swung open, and he exited without a backwards glance. I knew then I had sealed my fate.
The next day two guards came for me. They shackled my ankles and hands before escorting me down the winding tower steps. At the bottom of the tower, one of the guards opened a secret passage down into the servants’ quarters; that way the courtiers would not see me, I assumed. Or perhaps Adair feared I would shout out his guilt as they dragged me to my trial.
We passed a myriad of turns, and despite my resolve to memorize them and somehow plan an escape, I could not. The tunnels were like an endless maze. Eventually, we emerged outside the audience hall.
A pair of guards stood outside, one on each side of the door. They opened them, and I was led like a dog on a leash inside. At the far end of the room, a panel of men sat behind an oak table. At the center sat Adair, a silver crown upon his head. Flanking him to the right and left were Duke Wodell and Duke Magdale and several other men that I recognized by sight but not by name. All of them made up the heads of the twelve Great Houses. Two seats remained empty, and I knew to whom they belonged: Layton and Johai, they were the only dukes not present. At the far end of the table Duke Sixton watched me, a frown creasing his brow.
I avoided his gaze, not wanting to see judgment there. The guards forced me to sit and shackled me to a chair. I sat, eyes downcast, thinking to gain the council’s pity, and perhaps if they played along, they would hear my side of the story.
Adair stood, and I chanced a glance at him. He addressed the men seated beside him in a regal tone.
“My lords, today we bring forth Maea, a daughter of the defamed House of Diranel. She is accused of murdering King Dallin.” Then, turning cold blue eyes on me, he said, “How do you plead?”
I met his impassive gaze. “Not guilty, Your Majesty.”
The men rumbled in protest.
“Your plea is heard and acknowledged. Begin the proceedings,” Adair declared before retaking his seat.
A court scribe stepped forward and explained the proceedings to me. My accusers were to be given the floor first, then once a case was built against me, I would be given time to defend myself, and then those willing to speak would be given a turn. When he finished his speech, he took a seat off to one side, quill in hand, prepared to record the day’s proceedings.
Many spoke against me. It shocked me how many of my patrons numbered among them. People I had thought were Damara’s allies and friends seemed to relish the opportunity to condemn me. All had similar stories of me bewitching Adair and beguiling him with my treacherous nature. They spoke of my family’s history of treachery and, more specifically, my association with two convicted traitors: Damara and Johai. Both had been tried absentee and found guilty. The guards I had spoken to the night of the king’s death placed me at the scene. I bit my tongue and patiently waited my turn. Then they called the final witness.
“Duchess Magdale,” Adair called.
She sauntered onto the floor. I watched her progress, my mouth unabashedly agape. What could she possibly say against me?
“Your Majesty.” She bobbed her head.
“Tell us, in your words, what you have witnessed,” Adair said.
“I met Maea of House Diranel here at court, a vapid little thing. I have witnessed her on several occasions flirting with both the known sorcerer, Johai, and Duke Layton Florett. ” I made a sound of protest. A guard moved forward menacingly, and she continued. “Her consort, Johai, son of Prince Garrison, is infamous in Jerauch. His father deceived the head of one of our Great Houses and took his daughter as his bride in an attempt to overthrow both thrones. Maea told me in confi
dence that Johai had designs to rule Danhad with her help. The plan was for her to charm you, Your Majesty, gain your trust, kill your uncle, and use you to take the throne.”
“That’s a lie!” I shouted.
“Silence,” Adair cut across me.
I glanced helplessly at the council. Surely they did not believe her… but they all stared at me with harsh glares, except for Duke Magdale; his expression was unreadable.
“Do you deny your connection to the sorcerer Johai? You stayed in my country home with these people, and I discovered you out of bed late at night with this man,” Duke Magdale said.
“No, but he—”
“Enough,” Adair said. “Duchess, continue.”
And she did, weaving lies upon lies, claiming I was a seductress assuming the position of Diranel Diviner with no proof and with the intention of turning Adair from his engagement with Sabine to marry me instead, taking the throne for my own and then for Johai.
She even went so far as to claim that I took Beau as a lover and used him in an attempt to assassination Adair, which had gone awry and resulted in Layton’s injury instead. I tried to protest, but Adair stopped any interruption. It was preposterous, but no one besides me seemed to think so. When she finished, Adair dismissed her. She bobbed a curtsy and hid a smile as she scurried out.
I had known there was no winning from the beginning, but how could people think this of me?
“May I speak?” I asked.
“What could you possibly have to say in your defense?” Adair said with an air of triumph.
He was right, but I ignored him and rose, summoning what little dignity I had left. I looked over the council. I had one card left yet to play. I took a deep breath.
I stood before them; the shackles at my wrists and ankles clanked together. I looked each man present in the eye in an attempt to impress upon them how serious I felt, but many avoided my gaze as if fearing I might bewitch them. “You can believe what you want about me, but I am no pretender. I am a diviner. There are those among you who I have known, who have experienced what I can do. Can you truly say I am not genuine? Can you see my features passed down among generations of my family and deny it?
“I will not sit here and enumerate the reasons why you should believe me because, in the end, the decision is yours. But heed my warning as a diviner: you bring doom to your own doors and death hovers over this place while the man who killed King Dallin sits upon the throne!” I pointed at Adair.
He returned my glare without a twitch of his brow, as if people accused him of murder daily.
It was all I could do. Tell the truth. This must be the purpose the diviner had charged me with. If I were to die, then let my last words be to save everyone.
“I have seen the future of Danhad and of Neaux, and if the marriage of the king and queen bears a son, that boy will be the herald of death for us all. The son of two crowns will bring forth the destruction of life. Already the creature stirs, waiting for the gateway to be open. Heed my warning.”
I finished, and Adair stared at me with a cold look in his eyes.
“Unfortunately, false accusations and mad ravings will not spare you. I think we have heard enough. We shall put it to a vote. Those in favor of ending this delegation?”
Hands shot in the air among the council, easily over half. I was glad to see Duke Magdale’s was not among them nor was Duke Sixton’s or, surprisingly, Duke Wodell’s. He watched me with that same pensive look he had given me the night we met.
“It’s settled then; we shall discuss and return with our verdict.”
“How is this a fair trial?” Jon Sixton said. Standing, he slammed his hands down upon the table. “She does not even get a proper defense?”
Adair and half the council had risen from their seats.
“Do you come to the defense of a traitor?” Adair asked him.
“When your uncle was on the throne, even the lowest criminals were given a fair trial,” Duke Wodell said in his defense.
Adair glared at the two of them as if seeing them through fresh eyes. “My uncle no longer holds the throne. We have put it to a vote, and the council has decided to end deliberation. Come.” He motioned to the council to leave.
Jon Sixton’s gaze lingered, and I wondered what he could possibly gain from my defense, but he shrugged and followed the other men out.
My heart sank as they filed out, one by one. The guards led me into a small antechamber to wait. My body trembled no matter how hard I tried to stop it. This was it. My fate was to be sealed. I could see no other escape. I wrung my hands and unraveled a loose thread on my gown once my hands began to ache from the tugging. It was the longest wait of my life, but too short a deliberation. They had convened for perhaps ten minutes when the guards led me back into the audience hall and the council reentered. Adair stood before the crowd.
“We have come to a decision.”
I held my breath. My heart pounded audibly in my ears. This was the decisive moment.
“For the murder of King Dallin, Maea of House Diranel is sentenced to… death by beheading at dawn.”
Chaper Twenty-four
I did not sleep that night. I sat in the far corner, my knees drawn up to my chest, and stared out of the slit window. I contemplated my life and my coming death. I prayed to the Goddess for mercy and begged the first diviner for answers that never came. The minutes crept by into hours, and hours turned into dawn. The first sliver of light fell on my face, and I wept.
I had long ago given up on rescue. Anyone who might have considered risking it all for me I had pushed away long ago. I had burned all my bridges. I wrestled in those final moments with the idea of begging for Adair’s mercy. In my final desperation, I thought if I could look the other way, maybe, just maybe I could find a way to stop the prophecy and live.
I knew it was futile. If I had learned anything, it was that I could not thwart destiny, except with my death. At least this way, I would not be the hand that slew Johai; it was a small twisted comfort.
Footfalls sounded on the landing, and I knew my time had come. I stood to face them when they arrived. The door creaked open, and torchlight filled my chamber. The guards’ silhouetted forms filled the doorway. Emotion overwhelmed me, and I found it difficult to breathe for a moment, and a few stray tears rolled down my cheeks.
“Time to go,” one of them said.
“I know,” I replied.
The one who spoke entered my cell, and his heavy booted footsteps seemed to echo off the walls. They hammered through my skull, ringing through my ears. Death. Death. Death. I stood, my hands outstretched, and let them shackle my wrists together and then my feet. The chains clanked into place, rattling as I moved and followed the guard out the door. I spared the small tower room a parting glance. It had been my final home, I had come from so high, and I had fallen so low. Perhaps it was a fitting punishment for my avarice.
Once more, we made our way down the spiraling stone steps, each step drawing me closer to the executioner’s block. As we walked, I reflected on my life, brief as it was. My folly seemed glaring in hindsight, and I tried to focus on the happy things. They seemed few given the circumstances. I hoped Johai would be safe and remain hidden. Selfishly, I wondered how he would take the news of my death. Would he mourn me, or had I scorned him enough to push him away? I hoped he would find a way to break away from the specter and live a long fruitful life, though I doubted it would be so easy.
The mourning sound of the wind brought me from my thoughts. I looked up, and the blue sky opened up before me. I drank in the sight, having missed it during my long confinement. The court was crowded at the edge of the cliff face; pale faces in a sea of black turned to regard my entrance. Less than a year ago, I had been among them, on the opposite side, watching Count Braun being brought to his death. I wondered if he laughed at my fate in the afterlife.
I kept my head cast down, refusing to meet their disappointed faces, and I feared seeing a familiar face among them.
I hoped Sabine and Adair were not among them because if I were to see either of them, I knew it would destroy what little composure I had left.
The guards led me to the dais, where the same thick-armed executioner awaited. The waves crashed, and the howl of the wind seemed fitting to be the song to play upon my death. I glanced at the sharp edge of the axe. The executioner nodded to me, and fear twisted in my gut. I do not want to die! I thought. I want to live. The axe glinted in the dawning sunlight, and a shiver slithered up my spine. The guards yanked on my chains and forced me to my knees. A wild hysteria was building in me, and I involuntarily wrenched at my bindings. No, I cannot give in. I shouted something wild and incoherent.
A steady drumbeat picked up, and for a panicked moment I thought a vision would grip me in those last moments, saving me from any pain, but it was not so. It was the death chant, a thrumming lament to guide me into the afterlife. The guards forced me to bow forward and shackled my arms to the block, forcing me to face the sawdust-covered ground. The shackles locked with a clink. I had just enough room to lift my head and gaze at the crowd. I took one sweeping look across them. Their faces all seemed to meld into one gray and black blur. I realized I was crying. I blinked, trying to stop my tears, but they pattered onto the sawdust beneath my head.
Heavy thuds sounded as the guards left me with the executioner. I closed my eyes as the sound of their feet faded away. This was it, the moment I died. Seconds ticked by as I waited the fall of the axe.
Nothing happened. The crowd grew restless, and a murmur moved through them. I held my breath for a few more bated seconds; then I twisted my neck as far as I could to look at the executioner. His lean arms swung back as he prepared for the killing blow. I closed my eyes tight and muttered a prayer to the Goddess.
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