watch the festivities waiting." Tyr grinned at me as I stared back at him. "Your death will be our entertainment for the day," he said. "It will be only one of many to befall Faekind and soon, all that will be left is a memory of what you once were."
His words were merely for the benefit of the guards surrounding us. There was no possible way he could want his own race to be killed. That was … genocide. As Tyr approached and bent down, and I gazed up into his eyes, I had to wonder … maybe he really didn’t give a fuck who won this war after all. Because in the end—no matter who was left to claim victory—both sides would lose. That was how war went.
Clamping my lips shut, I glared up at him. It was difficult not to show my fear.
"So quiet now,” Tyr commented. “What's wrong, little Changeling? Cat got your tongue?" He grinned as he reached for my wrist and yanked me up to my feet.
My lips parted, but before I could utter a word in response, he reached out and grabbed my face, pinching my chin in his tight grip and squishing my cheeks. “You're very pretty for one, you know,” he commented. “A Changeling, that is. What a pity."
I gasped as quick and sharp as a whip, he tilted my head to the side and then dragged his tongue up my cheek, from the bottom of my jaw straight to my temple. A shudder of disgust ran through me.
“I expected salt,” he said, “from last night’s tears. Did you not cry, little Changeling? Attempting to be brave?” He used his grasp on my face to shake me back and forth. “You taste delicious, nonetheless. There's something to be said about the fear of a young woman about to die. I can never quite get enough of it," he whispered just as he flipped my head to the other side and licked my other cheek in the same manner.
My muscles tensed as he chuckled against my temple. More disgust whipped through me. I shuddered with revulsion even as my gaze darted to the guard standing by, silently pleading with him to stop this. When our eyes clashed, however, he merely curled his upper lip back and looked away.
Why? I thought. Even if I was a prisoner, why in the world would anyone treat another person like this? Why would he just stand there and let it happen?
"Keys," Tyr said abruptly, holding out the hand that wasn't clamped onto my face to the guard. I heard the jangle of metal as the keys landed in his palm, and he finally released me so he could undo the chains that had been anchoring me to the wall. The second the weight of the fetters was gone I wanted to sigh in relief, even if they were just replaced with a set of new manacles that would lead me out of this hole and into something far worse—death.
The metal was cold on my wrists. Tyr’s hands found my shoulders and turned me around, shoving me forward until I stumbled towards the door and I took solace in the fact that he hadn’t chained my feet. “Let’s get moving,” the guard said, turning and allowing me out into the corridor.
I shuffled along, darting my eyes from one side to the next. There was no opportunity in sight, though. No spare moment where I wasn’t surrounded by human guards with swords and dark looks. They would no doubt be more than willing to kill me before I even got to wherever it was this execution would take place.
They led me down a winding staircase and out of the prison tower—past silent cells where eyes gleamed in the quiet darkness. The silence was far more insidious knowing what was to come. Then finally, I was led out into the morning light. I halted just as fresh air—and the sunlight—hit my face. After being locked up for so long, the brightness of the sun was overwhelming and my vision was overcome with intense pain as I squinted to try and see my surroundings.
Slowly but surely, my eyes began to adjust. The guards, however, paid no heed as they shoved me along. I stumbled, nearly falling several times, as I was marched out into what seemed to be a courtyard. When I spotted the stage they had set for my execution my feet froze and refused to move again no matter