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Chapter 28

Morgana

O tscold is quiet for this time of day. Too quiet.

I arrived here quicker than I expected. The sturdy pony I could afford with Damia’s gold didn’t look like it would get me anywhere fast, but the animal was tireless. I rode through the morning into the afternoon and saw the village on the horizon by four o’clock.

The place should be pretty busy right now, with field hands heading home before supper and children skipping out of the schoolhouse. But as I move deeper into the little hamlet, I barely see a soul.

Of course, I’m trying to make sure not a soul sees me , but I’m good at that. Sneaking around all those years means that I know the back streets and shortcuts of the village. It’s knowledge I rely on now as I creep toward the square that holds the sanctuary.

For all its holy significance, it’s not a majestic sight. In a small community like Otscold, the building used for prayers and rituals on holy days is just a squat, stone structure with an entrance at either end.

I’ve never been inside, but it’s the spot in Otscold that’s most associated with the Temple. Technically, it’s supposed to be a place to worship all the gods. But several decades ago, the scythe of Ethira got carved over the front door, just like it did in most places in the land.

If there’s going to be a purge, that’s where it will happen.

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.

“No, Kit. Enough.”

I jump at Hale’s stern tone.

“We can’t just sit here and let her die!” Kit snaps back. I can tell this is an argument they’ve already gone over countless times.

“And what good is there to be had by you running in there and getting yourself killed too?” Hale barks. His expression is thunderous, but I can see the cracks running through it. He’s a man too close to breaking.

“We can’t do anything now, Kit,” Una says, her voice catching. She reaches for her son’s hand, but he snatches it back.

“Please,” she begs, and I have to look away to keep my own heart from shattering. “Please Kit, I cannot lose both my children.”

Kit turns to me, his eyes bright with desperation.

“You’re meant to be queen—can’t you do something? Call a stop to this? Surely the cleavers have to follow your orders?”

“I’m sorry, Kit,” I say. “My title means nothing while they still believe I had something to do with my parents’ murders.”

He nods, his jaw clenched with disappointment.

“But what about the rest of the village?” I ask. “Haven’t any of them offered to help you? Surely there are some people who aren’t ready to just roll over and accept this? There’s barely a person who doesn’t drink in this tavern or buy your food. Your family is the heart of this village.”

Una’s face sags, like my suggestions are just piling more weight on her back.

“They’re frightened, my dear,” she says. “They don’t want to become targets. I wouldn’t let them help—not if it means more families getting swept up in this evil.”

“Alright,” I say. If it’s just Kit and me on our own, it will be much harder. But we have to try.

“Alright?” Kit asks.

“I’ll find a way to get her out,” I say.

“I’ve been thinking about it for hours,” he says. “All I can come up with is some kind of distraction.”

“Neither of you will be doing anything,” Hale says. I can tell he’s trying so hard to be strong, to hold the remains of his family together.

“I’m sorry Mr. Holms,” I say, lowering my eyes respectfully. “I understand you’re afraid. But your daughter is simply too precious for me to let her die. She saved my life in a hundred different ways over in that manor, and now it’s time to repay my debt.”

Una lets out a sob as I turn to Kit. “I’m going to go back to the sanctuary. If we’re going to create a distraction, we need to know exactly how many guards there are. I’ll scout it out and come back.”

“I’ll come with you,” he says. “You can’t go on your own. You don’t know what they’re like. When they came to take Tira, it was awful. Those cleavers…” He shakes his head, unable to find the words for a moment. “It’s like they’re not even human.”

“Believe it not, I’ve actually had a run-in with the cleavers before,” I say grimly.

He gapes at me. “What? How?”

“A lot has changed, Kit. I’ve changed. So just trust me. Stay with your parents for now,” I say. “Keep them safe. I’ll be back soon.”

The Holmses don’t argue, but Una gives my hand a tight squeeze as I leave the tavern.

It’s getting dark again as I steal back through the streets. It makes it easier to move past Otscold’s houses and shops unseen, but I’m conscious that every passing moment brings us closer to Tira’s execution. We need to come up with a working plan fast.

I stop, thinking I hear footsteps in the alley ahead of me, and dart down another side street. But there’s sudden movement in the shadows here too. I reach under my cloak for the knife at my belt?—

Only to relax when I see it’s only a black cat darting around the corner.

“Those are bad luck you know,” says a voice in the gloom. Then a pair of large hands grabs me.