I was wrong about Aleksander. There is nothing good about him.
“How dare you!” I scream, not caring if he kills me. At least then, I couldn’t hurt anyone else.
And well…he would be dead too.
Without thought, I lean down, scoop up a handful of dirt and rocks, and throw them at him. He ducks, and most of it flies over his head.
Anger smolders in his dark eyes as he scowls at me. “Enough!”
I don’t listen. I’m beyond listening.
Instead, I scoop up another handful and throw it at him. But the bastard ducks again, and it enrages me even more.
“You monster.” The words tear from my throat as I grab more ammunition. “You evil, twisted monster.” Another volley strikes his shoulder. His chest. His arm as he tries to shield himself.
“They were murderers, Annora,” he says, his voice far too calm, “and they were condemned to die.”
“I don’t care. You made me kill them. You made me an executioner.”
“They weren’t innocent—”
“—and who are you to judge?” I bend down, fingers digging into the earth until they bleed. “Your hands drip with blood. But mine?” I straighten, chest heaving. “Mine were clean until you forced this evil upon me.”
He raises his hands, palms facing up. “Annora, be reasonable.”
Bile rises in my throat as I throw dirt and rocks at him, but he ducks again.
“You’re acting like a child,” he says, his voice oddly gentle.
I bare my teeth, ready to scream at him again, but something shifts in the air as he speaks ancient Hematite words, and flames appear in his palms. They dance with an unusual brilliance of deep crimson and glistening gold—unlike anything I have ever seen before.
A strange warmth wraps around me, seeping into my muscles, my bones. And my rage dims, turning to embers, then ash. I try to hold onto it, to feed the fury, but it slips through my fingers like fog.
How?
Confusion clouds my thoughts as I sway back and forth. “What did you...”
He steps closer and speaks in that same oddly gentle voice. “You needed to calm down, Annora.”
I blink, but the fog doesn’t lift.
He grabs my arm and turns me back to the fortress. As we walk, the strange magic wraps around me like a warm blanket, muffling my thoughts and dampening the horror of what just happened in the courtyard.
I should be screaming. Fighting. Crying. Shouldn’t I?
Instead, my feet move, following his lead while a distant part of my mind watches through a haze.
The moment we reach my door, Aleksander releases my arm. “Rest,” he says, gentleness still threaded into each word.
I nod, though I’m not sure why, as my hand finds the door, and I shove it open.
The bed calls to me as I cross the room in a daze. My legs give out, and I collapse onto the mattress.
Sleep tugs at my consciousness. I try to fight it, to hold onto awareness, but darkness creeps in around the edges of my vision. I welcome it, allowing it to take me.
As consciousness slowly creeps back,it hits me. The courtyard. The gallows. The three men I killed.
Ash burns my throat as I lift my hands, staring at them in the moonlight. These hands once held charcoal, sketched beauty into the world.
