I hear the thudding of hammers against iron before I see them, peering round a corner to spy a sight that makes my mouth go dry with fear. Eighteen men and women in maroon uniforms are hard at work in front of the sanctuary. The cleavers work like an army of red ants, crawling over the low wooden platform they’re busy assembling.
My mind can’t help but picture it soaked in blood, and I look away, nausea creeping up on me.
I was right to come as fast as I could. They’re already constructing the execution site, which means they’ve probably also collected the condemned from their homes. Yes, they would’ve rounded up the lambs before they brought out the butcher’s block.
I shiver as I watch the cleavers stare intently at their work, their black eyes unblinking. I can see another pair stationed by the front entrance to the sanctuary. The Otscold “heretics” are probably in there, huddled against the stone walls praying for salvation. But even with my new powers, I’d be stupid to try to take on the cleavers alone. I might as well sign Tira’s death sentence now if I attempted it.
I need backup—and a plan.
Reluctantly, I turn away, slipping back through streets to the painted sign of the Fox and Deer. A note on the door says it’s closed, but I push against it anyway and find it unlocked.
The door creaks as it opens, and I’m hit with all the familiar scents of the tavern. It feels like only yesterday the guards dragged me out of here. I take a moment to breathe it in, letting the familiarity of it ground me.
“Can’t you read? The sign says we’re clo?—”
Kit stops dead in his tracks at the sight of me.
“Ana?”
“Hi Kit.” My voice cracks as I say his name.
He rushes forward and pulls me into a hug. His body shakes as I squeeze him tight.
“They took Tira,” he sobs into my shoulder. “They’re going to kill her.”
“I know,” I say, fighting back my own tears. “I know, Kit.”
“Kit?” Una’s voice calls down the stairs, thin and wavering. “Kit, who’s there?”
I almost don’t recognize Kit and Tira’s mother as she descends the steps. The colorful woman who brightened my life for years is gone. Her usually golden skin is ashy, stained with tear tracks, and her vibrant clothes have been swapped for layers of black.
“Morgana! Sweet Firesta, what are you doing here?” Una claps a hand to her mouth.
“I heard about the purge,” I say as Kit and I separate, and Una sweeps me into a crushing hug of her own. “I had to come.”
Una’s husband follows behind her, not looking much better than his wife. Hale Holms is a man of few words, but the strain on his features tells me everything I need to know about his mental state right now.
“But how can you be here?” Una takes my face in her hands. “My dear, aren’t you a princess now?”
“She was always a princess, Mom,” Kit says. “We just didn’t know it.”
“Oh, I knew you were special, kept away in that big house like that,” Una says. “But to think…” She shakes her head.
“It’s crazy, Ana, what the rumors have been saying,” Kit jumps in. “We heard you’d made some kind of deal with the fae and run off with the Nightmare Prince.”
“That’s not what happened,” I say, wondering exactly how to explain the madness I’ve been through in the last few weeks.
“Of course not,” Una sniffs. “We knew it was nonsense. But my dear, I was so worried. They’ve put a bounty on your head, and now with the cleavers—” She stops herself, too horror stricken to continue the thought. “You can’t be here,” she concludes.
“I had to come,” I say. “For Tira.”
“They have her in the sanctuary,” Kit says. “She’s in there with all the others—Freya, Liam, the Rennet twins. They only turned nineteen last week.” His voice grows harder with each name. The anger in his voice gives me hope.
“We’re going to get them out, aren’t we?” I say.
Kit lifts his chin, the despair on his friendly face hardening into determination.
“The execution is set for just after sunrise tomorrow. I’ve been trying to think of a way to get to them before then,” he says.
