Page 62 of A Kiss of Flame

Agony blinded her, smothered her voice and deadened her senses. All was pain.

The cold black power eating away at her wouldn’t relent. It sucked all the light from her, chilled her to the core and there was nothing she could do. It had been made to do this, designed with her power in mind, targeting her alone. She was helpless in the face of it and the Nox’s laughter echoed through her head.

Finally, it seemed to say, finally you’re mine. And the girl will be next.

Wren… her face, pale and frightened but still determined, still so perfectly stubborn, swam up out of the shadows and pleaded with Elodie to fight, tried to help her, even when Elodie told her to run. But Elodie was nothing now. Once a queen, once a witch, she was barely clinging onto herself.

There was only one way she could still protect Wren.

Give Sassone what he wanted. A confession.

Whatever he wanted her to confess. She didn’t know. She just needed it to stop.

If she could just catch her breath for even a second. Even a breath. If she could just…

They had erected a pyre in the top of the walls, a great stack of kindling and firewood. In the middle a single wooden post rose like a finger pointing at the sky. As they dragged her up the steps she could smell oil and tar.

Given to the flames… this was what it meant. Burned alive, choking, blistering, dying, consumed by the one thing that ought to give her strength. She was lost.

The light overhead was dim and night was already falling. Even if she could reach her magic, the dawn was hours away. The moon wasn’t due to rise tonight.

Panic raced along her veins like acid, careening through her. The wind cut at her skin like knives and she saw the lower city spreading out beneath her. The palace was so far away, a white shining thing on the hill, out of reach. There was a noise outside the gates of Castel Sassone, the sound of war. She knew it too well to forget it. Looking down, she could see them now. The Knights of the Aurum, still faithful to her… Horses and men circling, siege weapons being readied.

She hadn’t dared to hope they would come. But it was still too late.

Elodie knew this place. It had always been here, the stronghold of the Tarryns. And it was impenetrable.

A fortress as strong as the palace complex above it, and Sassone had made sure to keep it in perfect order, all his line had. They were no fools. The walls were tall and thick, not overlooked from the nearby buildings, offering no position to attack easily. All her knights could try to do was break through the gates and scale those walls, so securely defended. They would have to fight their way to her.

They would never be in time. That must be Sassone’s intention. Her knights would watch her die long before they reached her.

And they wouldn’t be the only ones. The whole city was watching. She could feel them, her people, some terrified, some angry, some curious and some delighted… those whose hearts were filled with hate, who blamed her for everything.

Rightly perhaps. She had taken the crown. Oh she had been young and naïve, but she had sworn vows and promised to protect them. And all she had done was plunge them into war.

They might have won it, but that was no victory of hers. She had been long gone.

No wonder they hate you, said the voice inside her which might have been the Nox, or the Aurum, or her own conscience. You are a traitor. You always were.

The Ilanthian embassy was in sight, all gleaming walls and gold-topped towers, pennants flying to show that royalty was in residence. Were they watching too? Was Leander even now looking on in triumph? He had everything he wanted now. She was going to die.

And Finn? Was he there? Poor Finn, so hopelessly lost between his heart and his duty and his blood…

But he’d protect Wren, surely. He had to.

The wooden pole, as thick as a tree trunk, struck her back as she was pushed against it, and her arms, still chained, were dragged up and secured above her head. The guards fell back, releasing her as if reluctant to touch her rather than eager for her death.

One of them muttered something. It sounded like a prayer, a plea to the Aurum to help them all. And well he might pray, she thought. He might not like what he was doing but that didn’t stop him doing it.

Roland was coming. He would be too late for her. But not too late to exact his vengeance.

His retribution would fall on each and every one of them and it would never be satiated. Roland de Silvius, her Roland, her love… he’d break the world apart with grief to have found her and lost her again.

Below her, the city fell to an eerie silence. Faces looked up at her, so small and lost in the encroaching darkness. Waiting. They were waiting. They were as helpless as she was.

She had to protect Wren. That was all that mattered. Whatever the outcome here, she had to protect Wren.

Once more, she struggled to free herself, fighting through the agony crawling along her limbs, through every spasming muscle. Her vision blurred, the edges eaten away with night.