Chapter 13 Thirteen.
The air is thick with the stench of blood. The acrid scent clings to my skin and to the very air I breathe. The crowd’s roars echo in my ears, a haunting reminder of Carter and his family's execution.
I’m still standing, my body held upright by the guards at my sides, though I barely notice them anymore. My eyes are fixed on the lifeless head of Carter Katz, then slowly I take it up to where his body is now arranged near the rest of his headless family. Blood pools beneath the piles of bodies, a dark stain spreading across the wooden platform. Eliana remains standing on the platform, head bowed to the floor as her body quakes with sobs. I can still hear the roars of the crowd, but it’s all distant… hollow, like I’m underwater. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to see any of this.
But I can't turn away.
Carter's rolling head is etched into my brain, the ghost of his smile before his death haunting me like a phantom in the darkness. His last look, his eyes locked onto mine—he was afraid. Yet, he smiled, trying to not show fear, as if to assure me that it's not my fault he's being killed… but how can I ever think it's not when it actually is. If my brother and I had never fled to the Shadow Moon Pack, if we’d never pretended to be Omegas, Carter might still be alive. His kindness wouldn’t have delivered him a death sentence.
The thought gnaws at my soul. I want to scream at King Sven, the roaring crowd, to rail against the injustice of it all, but my voice is gone. My throat is raw from crying, from shouting at a devil who will never hear me.
King Sven — the devil, sits there, completely unbothered, sipping from his goblet. His gaze flits briefly to me and he smirks as he stands up again. I know he's up to no good. Whatever he's about to say will either break me or what's the worst that can happen anyway?
“Now,” he announces, voice slicing through the noise like a blade. “As for the male Fae who the boy helped escape—let it be known, there is a bounty on his head. A picture of how he looks will be passed across the Kingdom, and anyone who brings him to me, dead or alive, will be rewarded with ten bags of denarii.”
“No! You can't do that!” I yell with the last of my energy as the words pierce through me like a dagger.
The thought of my brother being targeted like an animal haunts me. They’ve already murdered Carter for his role in helping him escape, and now they want to use my brother as a prize—a trophy to be claimed by anyone desperate enough to hunt him down.
My voice is hoarse as I beg again. “Let him live, please!”
“Let him live?” King Sven mocks. His smirk deepens as he strides toward me. A flick of his fingers, and the guards release me. My legs give out, and I hit the platform hard, knees bruising against the wood. He looms over me, a predator savoring the fear in his prey’s eyes. “And why should I let him live, little Fae? I don't think you're aware of how much everyone in this Kingdom hates your kind. Of how much, the whole world despises your kind.”
“Really?” I tilt my head, lips peeling back in a bitter smile. I feel frustration and anger seep through my bones. “Then why don’t you tell them the truth, Your Majesty? That you’re just as much a Fae as I am?”
I don't care that we're in public. In fact, I want them all to know. To know that their beloved King Sven is a Fae alongside being a hybrid.
For a heartbeat, the square is dead silent.
Then Sven laughs—a rich, confident sound. “Why don’t you tell them?” he challenges, spreading his arms. “Go on. Let’s see who they believe. A Fae or their own King?”
I'm suddenly reminded of how quiet it is. I take a quick glance around to see everyone watching us, and I decide to take this opportunity.
I stand on my feet with the support of my hands, and when I do, I move to the front of the platform. I half expect King Sven to stop me, but he doesn't. His guards try to, but he stops them too. He looks like he's actually enjoying all this, and there's nothing more that I want than for him to regret that.
With a clear of my throat, I begin to speak. “If you hate my kind so much, people of Māui, I have news for you,” My voice rings out, raw but clear. “Your beloved King Sven isn't who you think he is. Yes, he's a hybrid, but he's also part of the kind you so much hate — a Fae.”
Silence. Then—
Laughter.
Not shock. Not outrage. Mockery.
“Liar!” someone shrieks.
“As if we’d believe a filthy Fae over our King!”
“Die like the rest of your kind, you imbecile!”
The insults come from every side.
A rotten tomato splatters against my chest. Another hits my cheek, dripping foul and cold. Eggs, stones, curses—they rain down, but I don’t flinch. I stand my ground as I begin to talk again, lips trembling, tears clouding my eyes. “But why? Why do you hate my kind so much? We've done nothing wrong.”
Just then, I'm turned around and a sharp slap lands on my cheek, the sting radiating through my face. I stumble back, tears springing to my eyes. Katniss Whitlock grips my arm, her fingers digging into my skin. The pain throbs, a dull ache spreading across my forehead as tears spill down my cheeks.
“Nothing wrong? Don't make me laugh,” she sneers as she grips my arm tighter. “Have you lived in ignorance all your life to not even know the fact that your kind owned the first ever set of slaves? Your kind built an empire on our backs. Thousands of people from the Kingdom of Māui, including my own great grandfather, were slaves to your Kingdom. Your people used magic to chain us like dogs. Or did you think history would be forgotten?”
Her words land like a punch. Because she’s right.
I didn’t know, and I don't want to believe it.