Chapter 57: Cecelia and Matthew's Execution
I stood in my chambers, the pale light of dawn creeping through the narrow windows. The room was still. Today marked the execution. A grim necessity that weighed heavily on me.
My attendants moved with practiced precision, helping me out of my nightgown. The soft fabric slipped away, replaced by the light touch of a linen chemise. Next came the corset, finely crafted from silk and whalebone. The attendants laced it tightly, their fingers swift and sure, drawing it in until I could feel its familiar grip. I winced at the pressure but said nothing.
A petticoat followed, adding volume to my frame, its delicate embroidery a reminder of the kingdom’s artisans. The gown came last—heavy, regal, crimson velvet. It was a deliberate choice, a symbol of both my authority and the blood that would soon be spilled. The high neckline and gold-embroidered bodice reinforced the weight of my station as if the very fabric mirrored the gravity of my decisions.
Once my attire was secure, the attendants turned their attention to my hair. Normally left loose, it was today gathered into a crown braid, woven with gold pins and pearls. The style was severe, fitting for the day ahead. Finally, a diadem. A simple band of gold set with rubies. Was placed upon my head. It was not my most ornate crown, but it conveyed the message I needed. I was a queen about to deliver justice.
I stared at my reflection. Gone was the woman who had once feared this responsibility. In her place stood a sovereign—steady, resolute. With a breath, I steeled myself, turning from the mirror to face the inevitable.
I left the chamber. The weight of my gown trailed behind me, but it was nothing compared to the burden of duty. My footsteps echoed through the castle’s stone corridors, each one bringing me closer to the execution grounds. Guards lined the path, their faces impassive, embodying the gravity of the occasion. I moved through them, my gown whispering across the cobblestones.
The sun had risen fully by the time I reached the square, its light harsh against the assembled crowd. A murmur rippled through them as I approached, the sea of faces reflecting a spectrum of emotions—curiosity, fear, anger. At the center of the square stood the gallows. My eyes lingered on the noose for only a moment before I looked away. Andrew stood at the base of the platform, waiting. Barely eighteen, he looked both determined and sorrowful, his royal attire mirroring mine but less ornate.
"Mother," he murmured, offering his arm.
I took it, grateful for the support. Together, we climbed the steps to the platform. Each creak of the wood seemed to echo the tension in the air. Nathan was in the crowd, his expression briefly betraying his anguish before he masked it with impassivity. His silent presence was enough to stir doubt in my heart, but I quickly buried it. There could be no hesitation now.
The executioner stood ready; his face hidden beneath a hood. He gave me a small nod as Andrew, and I took our places. The crowd quieted.
"Today, justice must be served," I said, my voice steady as it carried over the square.
"It is with a heavy heart that I stand before you, but the law must be upheld."
The crowd was still united in their focus. From the far side of the square, guards escorted Cecelia and Matthew through the throng. Chains clinked as they walked toward the platform, their faces pale but resolute. Cecelia’s defiance was clear in the way she held her head high, while Matthew’s quiet determination mirrored hers. They ascended the steps.
"Cecelia, Matthew, you stand accused of treason against the crown.”
“You have conspired to undermine the peace of our kingdom, and for this, you face the consequences."
Cecelia stepped forward, meeting my gaze.
"I did what I believed was right for the kingdom.”
"I sought to protect our people from a ruler who has forgotten their needs."
“Your grief makes you weak.”
A murmur swept through the crowd, but I remained composed.
"Your actions have caused harm, no matter your intentions.”
“The law must be upheld."
Matthew, beside her, spoke next.
"We are ready to face our punishment," he said, his voice firm.
"Queen Adeline the truth will prevail.”
“The people will remember our sacrifice."
I nodded, acknowledging their words. I signaled to the executioner.
"Proceed."
The nooses were placed around their necks, the crowd watching in strained silence. Cecelia closed her eyes, a single tear slipping down her cheek, while Matthew faced forward, his jaw set. My eyes sought out Nathan’s once more in the crowd. His sorrow reflected my own, though I forced my expression to remain unreadable.
With a sharp pull, the executioner released the trapdoors. Cecelia’s body jerked once before going still, her face serene in death. Matthew struggled briefly, his muscles tensing before the inevitable overtook him. The life drained from his eyes, and the square fell deathly silent.
I stood tall, my grip tightening on Andrew’s arm as I fought the sorrow rising within me. The crowd remained hushed, their collective grief a palpable presence in the square. I turned to face them, my voice steady despite the ache in my chest.
"Justice has been served," I declared.
"Let this remind us all of the cost of treachery and the price of peace."
I turned away, descending the platform with Andrew at my side. We walked through the crowd in silence, the air heavy with the weight of what had just transpired. Back inside the castle, away from prying eyes, I paused, my hand tightening on Andrew’s arm as the enormity of the moment washed over me.
“We will make it through this, Mother.”
"For the kingdom."
“Their deaths were necessary.”
“A ruler is no good if they do not uphold the laws.”
I nodded, but the burden of what we had done lingered, a shadow that would follow me long after the day’s end.