Page 90 of Forged By Malice (Beasts of the Briar #3)

89

Rosalina

“N o!” I scream, but my voice is stolen by the crowd. They gasp, they sob. Others yell.

The High Prince has been unhelmed.

No , I think. He’s not the High Prince anymore.

I look at Kairyn. Emotionless. Still. Radiating with power.

Maybe it was done in the name of their creed, but it was done with villainy. “You betrayed us,” I snarl under my breath. Flames flicker on my fingertips. “I’m going to make you pay—”

Strong arms wrap around me, pinning me to an ice-cold chest. “Control your anger,” Kel rumbles in my ear. “Now is not the time nor place. Ezryn must complete his punishment. Otherwise, it will all be for nothing.”

My rage cracks, and a sob breaks out of me instead.

“I know,” Kel whispers, his own voice raspy. “I know.”

Ezryn kneels atop the dais, chin up. His face—his beautiful face I only discovered yesterday—is stoic, impassive. But I feel it through our mate bond: a shame and guilt like I’ve never experienced. The weight of it has me clutching at my chest. I want to run away and throw myself into the dirt, never to see the light of day again.

“One last thing.” Kairyn’s voice echoes hauntingly. He whips a slim knife from the folds of his black cape. “All who look upon you henceforth will know you as creedbreaker.”

He grabs Ezryn’s chin and jerks his head to the side.

Ezryn does not resist as Kairyn slides the knife along the tip of his pointed ear, arcing it in a curve. Cutting off the point, rounding it like a human’s. A flick of his wrist and he’s done. The tip of Ezryn’s perfectly pointed ear falls to the dais in a wet slap. Blood drips down his face, down his neck.

I fall then, an unhuman scream wrenching itself from me. Shaking, I clutch Keldarion’s leg and vomit on to the ground.

Another wet slap, and I know Kairyn has taken the tip of Ezryn’s other ear. I need to stand. I need to be there for my mate.

“Help me,” I croak.

Keldarion lifts me up, and I can tell by the tremor of his fingertips, the cold prickling in the air around us, he feels the same as I. But his tortured gaze confirms my own thoughts. We must bear this for Ezryn.

“You are no longer welcome in Spring,” Kairyn calls out. “You are the Traitor Prince. The Matronslayer. Let it be known what your people think of betrayers as you make your final walk through the city.”

Ezryn’s deep brown eyes flash, but he says nothing. Blood drips along the sides of his face. He takes a step down the dais. Then another.

“Boo!” a citizen screams. “Matronslayer!”

“Shame!” another screams.

My throat tightens. “Be quiet. All of you.”

But the voices are a chorus now, shouts of murder, of disgrace. They make way, parting before Ezryn with each step he takes.

I can’t let him do this alone. I push off from Kel and run after him, shoving my way through the crowd. The other princes run right behind me.

My heart hammers as I try to keep my eyes on him amid the throng. He walks so stiffly, so proudly, shoulders back and head held high, blood dripping behind him. But inside, he’s breaking.

“You have brought shame to Spring!” one fae man calls from the edge of the path. He whips back his arm and tosses. A rotten head of lettuce smashes against Ez’s shoulder. Ez flinches, then keeps walking.

“I’ll fucking cut his arm off,” Dayton growls, but Farron places a hand against his chest.

“And if we interfere, what will happen to Ez then? This isn’t our dominion, Day.”

“Then I’ll fucking cut Kairyn’s head off,” Dayton snarls back.

Farron gives a pained expression. “That’s not what Ezryn wanted. He willingly passed on the Blessing. He truly believes Kairyn is the most fit to rule.”

“Yeah, well, Ezryn’s an idiot,” Dayton mumbles, but doesn’t make a move toward the citizen.

As much as my heart is breaking, I know Farron’s right. This is Ezryn’s will. He would never forgive us if we retaliated against his citizens or interfered.

So, all I can do is push my way through the crowd, staying near him as we walk solemnly between his parted people. Or those that used to be his people.

A hiss roils up from someone on a balcony. “Long live Princess Isidora!” she cries, then throws a small rock. It clips Ezryn in the brow. More blood oozes down his face. He doesn’t look toward his assailant, but only keeps walking.

It’s as if these few have emboldened the others. More heckles rise. A tomato smacks against Ezryn’s chest, then a small clay pot cracks against his thigh. He buckles but keeps walking. A rotten stench roils up into the air as refuse flies into his path, landing on his shoulders, his arms, his hair.

Tears stream down my face. “Stop it,” I whisper. “Please, stop it.” I want to shield him, want to wipe away the blood and sweat and debris that mar his body. But there’s nothing I can do. The thought makes me feel useless, weak. Feelings I never wanted to experience again.

“Move,” Farron growls beside me, shoving people out of the way. Some move with indignant looks, others too focused on Ezryn to care. But this person is rooted to the spot, swaying, eyes wide and unblinking. Farron shoves them again, but they don’t budge.

“Come on.” Dayton grabs both mine and Farron’s hands and pulls us forward, so we don’t lose sight of Ezryn. Kel has already muscled his way far ahead.

“He hasn’t got much further to go. It’s almost over,” Dayton says lowly, squeezing my hand.

I want to take solace in that fact, but I can’t. Because I can feel the blood on my own face, the disgust and judgment of these people as if they’re gazing at me.

“Have these plants always been here?” Farron mumbles.

“Now’s not really the time, Fare,” Dayton says, yanking us forward again.

The gates leading outside of the city lie straight ahead. Ezryn’s steps are wobbly now, but we’re almost there.

Farron pulls free of Dayton’s grip. “No, look. These red flowers. They’re the same as in the throne room. And they’re all over the city.”

“Matronslayer!” one of the soldiers guarding the gate snarls. He leans down and rips up a chunk of earth. “You will pay for what you did to our High Princess!” With a cry, he hurls the soil. It cracks against Ezryn’s knee, and he falls.

I pitch forward, too, sobbing. The physical pain is nothing; my heart is ripping from my chest.

“Rosie.” Dayton gathers me in his arms, then looks around. “Fare? Where did he go?”

Ezryn staggers up. His brow is coated with blood, one eye bruised from a rock. He takes a trembling step toward the gate.

“Shit, he’s looking at those damned flowers,” Dayton grumbles, peering over the crowd to find Farron. “I’m getting you outside of the city, then I’ll grab him.”

I can’t even speak. My vision is blurred with tears. One step at a time. That’s all I can manage. Once we’re outside the city, we’ll be together. It will be okay.

A wind courses down the streets and over the gathered people, carrying Kairyn’s voice: “And so our city is rid of the Traitor Prince. Let us usher in a new dawn for Spring!”

With Kairyn’s words, Ezryn takes his final steps out of the gate and leaves his home city behind.

Relief floods through my breast as I watch him step behind the huge doors. Kel is waiting at the entrance and wraps his arms around me and Dayton. “Farron?” he asks.

Dayton rolls his eyes. “Got distracted, as usual. I’ll grab him once I see Ezryn’s safe.”

Kel nods, then slips us out of the doors as they slam shut.

We stand in the grassy, tree-covered forest outside of the city. The jeers of the crowd fade away, and finally, I feel like I can catch my breath.

Kel steps forward, looking around. “Ezryn?”

He’s not in the small clearing. But there are so many trees, he must have just—

“Well, well, well, that was a moving little ceremony, wasn’t it?” A woman’s voice cuts through the quiet.

She steps out from behind one of the trees, her shimmering blue dagger held at Ezryn’s throat.

The Nightingale.

Three helmed knights flank her. My heart seizes. Two of them carry divine weapons: one a lance, one a trident.

I’ve seen these weapons before at the top of Queen’s Reach Monastery. Didn’t the legend say they were only to be wielded by the Queen’s chosen?

A mask shrouds the bottom half of her face, but her blue eyes flicker with mirth. “Keldarion, handsome, be a good dog and hand over your sword.”

The ground goes out from under me. Sharp needles dig into my flesh as her brambles wrap tighter and tighter around me, digging into my skin.

The Nightingale’s eyes smile up at me before she turns back to Kel and Dayton. “Or I’ll pluck the life right out of your pretty little Rose.”