“They speak spells,” he said. “That’s all they ever do.”

We came to a small grove, and Adrian dismounted, helping me down. My boots sank into the snow, the cold seeping beneath my skirt, as we took our place at the center of the grove.

Daroc and several guards had already prepared the attackers for execution. Among those already present was Killian. Seeing him stole what little warmth was left within my body. His expression was severe, and when he met my gaze with those haunted eyes, they turned glassy.

I felt his emotion, and it welled inside me too. I mourned deeply for him and for Violeta, for what they had before she died, and what might have been had she lived.

There were fifteen prisoners, a mix of men and women. Their hands were bound before them, bodies bruised and beaten. A few glared at me through swollen eyes; others kept their gazes on their feet. I could not stop looking at them, feeling so many confused emotions tangling inside me. I wanted to demand answers, but I also did not wish to hear them explain their hate.

Each prisoner stood on a wood stump, and each had a noose around their neck, the knot secured before the ear and the lower jaw.

There was no fanfare—no words of warning, no shouts of protest—only silence as the guards and Daroc stepped forward to kick each stump from beneath their feet. The ropes creaked and the bodies swung, and there were a few strangled sounds, but mostly, there was silence as the bodies convulsed and jerked violently. Their faces swelled; their eyes bulged; their tongues jutted from their mouths. It was horrible to witness, and I watched until they ceased to sway.

***

When we returned to the castle, a pyre was being assembled in the courtyard in preparation for Violeta’s funeral.

“Does she have to burn?” I asked Adrian, watching the progress blindly.

“It’s safest,” he said.

I knew that, and I knew why—buried bodies could rise again, and while I did not wish that for Violeta, it felt wrong to reduce her to ash and bone.

“How will I visit her?” I whispered, my vision blurry.

Adrian lifted my hand to his lips, and I looked at him, swallowing hard as he kissed me.

“Why don’t we bury her ashes in the garden,” he said. “Perhaps, when we return to Lara, you can bring a few of your mother’s flowers.”

More tears gathered in my eyes.

“I want to see her,” I said.

Adrian froze. “Isolde—”

“You do not have to take me. I will go by myself,” I said.