“Now,” Fenn began, coming to stand before Seph at the stump, “which hand was it that you used to crop a loyal solider about the face?”

Which…

Hand?

“You cannot do this,” Seph told him.

“It doesn’t matter,” Fenn replied, “as I’ll be taking both.”

“No!” Seph shouted, twisting savagely, but inconsequentially, against his captors. “You cannot do this, brother! We are one! We are The Rising!”

“Do not worry, brother,” Fenn responded. “We are all trained. We will staunch the flow of blood and stitch you. You will not lose your life this crisp Dellish afternoon.”

But Seph wasn’t listening.

He was struggling.

The only priest not holding him down came forward to tightly tie a leather truss at the meat of Seph’s forearm.

The priest to Seph’s right shifted as Fenn moved into place and raised the ax.

“No!” he shrieked.

The next sound that came from him was also a shriek, but it was not a word, though it communicated perfectly the depths of pain that swept it out of Seph’s mouth.

Oddly, losing his other hand, Seph didn’t even feel.

Mostly because, seconds later, he’d lost consciousness.

54

The Significance

Tedrey

Receiving Chamber, Manor of Lorenz, Captain of the Trusted, Fire City

FIRENZE

Tedrey sat on the plush cushion in the seat set in the window and stared out at the bustle of the street at the front of his master’s house.

Firenz citizens moved to and fro, carrying baskets in hands, on backs, on heads, or bags in arms (or on backs). Or their hands held the hand of a little one who trotted beside them. Or they sat atop a fine, sleek Firenz steed and cantered along the road, going about their business.

There were some who were smiling. Some laughing. Some frowning. Some expressionless and deep in thought or intent on whatever they were doing.

Life went on.

But weeks ago, their king’s palace was attacked. Men were executed publicly. But hours after that, their king took his queen in matrimony even more publicly and the city buzzed with excitement as the air rang with revelry.

And but a few days later, it was known and spoken about widely, of the quiet, private, but noble funeral that had been held for the wife of a traitor, a woman forgiven by a king and sent to the next realm with adoration and respect.

And today…

Nothing.

It was just any other day.

As the day before the attack on the palace was.

As the day after the royal wedding was.

And every day in between.

Life just went on.

It was all…

Insignificant.

“Tedrey.”

He jumped when he heard the deep voice growling toward him and turned his head to see the warrior, his master, and the owner of the manor walk into the room.

“My lord,” Tedrey replied.