drumming in my ears. The prince muttered feverishly, “This is wrong. This is wrong. Please don’t let me die.”
Father wouldn’t want me to do this. So many nights Father would stay awake speaking with Grigfen about the influence he could have on Ryo. The prince had the potential to be a great king and a great man, if we guided him. But Father had left me with nothing. Not a word of goodbye, not a coin for food. What he wanted me to do didn’t matter when he’d left us to starve.
I lifted the axe high. The prince gasped for air, his frenzied pleas clear as starlight as the mob silenced. Strange the stars still shone, even on such a night as this.
King Edvarg was the only one not grieving. His slimy tongue slipped over his lips, curved in celebration so sharp it could only be lust. For all his pious words, he was glad to see his rival killed, even though it was his own nephew.
The idea of Edvarg as my king made my stomach roll. My heartbeat stilled. There was only one opinion I could trust now.
My own.
The weight of the axe made my arms quake, but I could do this. I arched my wrists and swung the axe.
Deep into King Edvarg’s stomach. His blood sputtered out around the axe blade, dripping down the handle and staining his fine robes.
“You are not my king,” I roared into the shocked silence. “And I’ll have no hand in this execution.”
Then the night caught fire.
4
DAGNEY
Torchlight blinded the stars, and the heavy gloves lightened as if I’d gained strength by that act of violence. Ryo’s shallow panicked breathing was the only noise audible, until King Edvarg’s body collapsed to the straw and the crowd erupted in screams. I stepped back, my hands held close to my chest. The axe. I need the axe.
The Devout priests rushed to the king’s side, whispering incantations, their hands quickly becoming blood-covered as they tapped prayer dots down his nose. The axe was surrounded. Not worth it.
The lowborn scattered with voices ragged with coarse laughter and bitter terror. The Everstriders split ranks, half the guards rushing to the king while the rest turned their swords to me.
I may have broken out in hives.
An inner compass behind my eyes pointed like an arrow toward safety. I jerked the prince by the rope stringing his arms together, trying desperately to breathe through the thick black hood covering my face and mudding my vision. We had to get out of here.
I shoved through the line of Historians. The crowd scattered away from me like I was diseased. What was I thinking? I saved Ryo. RYO. I axed the Undergod’s appointed king, and my father was missing, and I couldn’t find my brother, and WHAT WAS I EVEN DOING?
Running toward the Executioner’s wall. That’s what I was doing.
I pushed through the crowd, pulling the bound and blindfolded prince behind me.
We were surrounded.
Breathe, Dagney. Breathe.
“King Edvarg is dead!” a priest cried out.
Ryo let out a breath. “Long live King Vinton!”
The crowd pushed forward. “That traitor.”
“Blasphemy!”
Sharp hands ripped at us, pulling at Ryo’s tattered clothes, as if trying to find something to sell. Everstriders fought to keep the crowd under control, pushing back, while the king’s guards advanced on us.
“Go!” an Everstrider hollered. “We’ll hold them back!”
I cut the ropes keeping Ryo bound. He ripped his blinder off and shoved a lowborn back.
“This way!” I grabbed the prince’s arm and led him toward the tunnel.
I’d never fought anyone except my father or my brother, but I held tight to Ryo’s arm and shoved the crowd out of our way. I was no weak lamb. I was thick and strong.
We ran like a hole in a stocking.
A king’s guard blocked our path. He raised a crossbow at us.
“For King Edvarg,” he shouted. The guard pulled the trigger and the shaft ripped through the air. I yanked Prince Ryo toward me as the arrow’s sharp edge sliced my hood.
And lodged into Prince Ryo’s shoulder.
He fumbled into my arms and grunted in pain. Royal blood stained through his shirt.
I swore.
The arrow breached any semblance of order in my mind. I fought a wave of panic and shoved Ryo toward the Executioner’s wall. The guard lowered his crossbow and reloaded with a new shaft.
The crowd surged closer.
Forward. Move forward. The rough wall pressed solid against my arms, no handle on this side of the massive stone doors, the witch-made gloves the only key. I shoved my palm