Page 118 of Brutal Crown

And yet… I want to see her defy them.

Not because I want her dead. God, no. But because some fucked-up part of me needs to know she’s still her. That even after they break her, burn her, bleed her, there’s something in her that refuses to bend.

She can’t win. But maybe she can survive without surrendering.

Or maybe the prophecy will shield her.

A flame bearer starts a low chant, and in a few seconds, everyone follows. The soft, echoing Latin hum fills the room. The walls and the pillars seem to carry the sound.

Nothing comes out of my throat.

Lia doesn’t flinch when a guard steps forward to remove the binding from her wrists. The moment the ropes fall away, she steps forward in steady steps.

The chants become louder.

Her foot hovers above the first glowing coal.

I grit my teeth without meaning to.

The first step lands with a soft hiss. Flesh against fire. Her face doesn’t change, but I see her fists clench.

The second step draws blood as a jagged stone cuts open the arch of her foot. A smell rises in the air. It is sharp, metallic, revolting—the unmistakable scent of burning blood and skin.

The third step is slower than the last two. The humming turns into a steady thrum behind my ears. A few people look away. Most stare harder and hum louder.

She stumbles on her fourth step, but she steadies herself. I barely notice I’ve stepped closer, past the pillar now, my fingers digging into the stone as if I could stop this somehow.

“She won’t make it,” someone whispers behind me.

But she keeps moving.

Another step. And another.

Her body jerks with the pain, but she doesn’t cry out. Her jaws are clenched tight, her hands balled into fists at her sides. Her knees buckle slightly after the sixth step. There is more blood now, the crimson drops sizzling on the blackened coals behind her.

I’m breathing through my mouth now, barely holding myself from rushing over there and taking her away.

I would walk this path a million times in her place if I could. I would lay my life down to save her from this… evil.

The chant rises again. The air is thick now, smoke and heat curling into my nostrils, pressing against the skin.

My heart pounds harder than I can regulate. I dig my fingernails into my palm. I tell myself to stay still. Don’t move. Don’t show any emotion. I remind myself of how much worse the situation would get if I tried to interrupt the ceremony.

My jaw is locked so tight it aches.

She’s not going to make it.

But she keeps going.

I’m not the only one who has a hard time watching. Marco has taken a half step forward, his hands twitching like he wants to catch her. Rivulets of sweat pour down his forehead. I see the wet outline on the neck of his cloak.

But like me, he knows the rules. No interference. She must finish this alone.

By the time she reaches the final stone, her legs collapse beneath her. She falls hard, her knees slamming into hot stone. A quiet gasp rolls through the crowd, but she doesn’t scream or cry in pain.

I want to run to her. I want to carry her out of this place and damn the consequences.

But Marco beats me to it.