Book 2: Death of a Traitor

Ainslee

The wind blows cold over the wasteland of a courtyard, only half-full when it should have been bursting with men. This is Kris’s fault, I remind myself through the sadness.

And he is about to be executed for it.

Zeke and a loyal guard named Lawrence, flank Kris on either side as he is brought before the throne, which has been moved outdoors for the occasion. The weather looks as bleak as our situation with Tormentia. I hope the throne doesn’t get ruined by rain.

“Kris Moore,” Rafe intones when Kris is forced to kneel before him. “You are accused of high treason against the crown. There is no doubt of your guilt, but if you have any last words in your defense…”

Kris, who looks as though he’s had a good going over by the guards we’ve also had to imprison for treason, merely glares at Rafe through one eye. The other one is swollen shut. He spits at him, most of the wad missing. The bloody goo falls on the ground near Rafe’s boot. “