Page 46 of Beauty

I tear the note into tiny pieces, taking my time to makesure no one can ever put it back together. I shove it into the seams of themattress and lay back.

My head still hurts, but my heart is worse. I’ll followinstructions. I’ll trust Niall, but I want Shim and Lach, and they don’t reallyexist. I’m damaged. So damaged.

I close my eyes, but sleep won’t come.

ChapterFourteen

Bronwyn

The light streaming in from the high window brings meout of the restless sleep I finally found sometime before dawn. I sit straightup on the hard cot and try to remember my dreams.

I can only remember one, but it was a little wild. Shim andLachlan. They have names after years and years of dreams. Odd. I never heardthe name Shim before, and I wouldn’t pick Lachlan. I always liked Padric andJames.

I stretch and see a wooden tray. A guard must have broughtit in this morning while I slept. A wooden mug of water and a dry crust ofbread. My last meal.

I shuffle over and sip the water, my throat a parched mess.I can’t even look at the bread, my stomach churning at the thought. I put downthe mug. Even the water tastes bad here.

I shake my head, trying to gather my thoughts. What’shappening to me? My mind flies back to so many years before. I was just achild, listening in on my parents talking. My father worried that I was touchedin the head. My mother tried to argue that imaginary friends are normal for asix-year-old. My mother touched my father’s face and asked him to spend moretime with me and Cian. I vaguely remember my father saying something about usnot needing his steadying hand the way Beck did. Then my father left and mymother wept.

I stopped talking about my Dark Ones that day. Even at six Iknew something was wrong, despite what Mother said. Six-year-olds might haveimaginary friends, but the Dark Ones didn’t seem imaginary.

And now I’m twenty-seven.

I can still feel Shim’s hold on his cock. He gripped it withthe confidence of long use. I can practically see him winking at meflirtatiously.

We’re coming, Bron.

That voice in my head is accompanied by the candle at mybedside flaring to life. But I blew it out.

Mad. It’s the only explanation.

I force myself to take another drink and then try the bread.If I have any chance at running, I’ll need some strength. After taking anothersmall sip and chewing through some of the bread, I turn to the window.

Something is happening. I stand on my small cot, strainingto see out the window above me. Grasping the bars that cover the window, I goup on my tiptoes and can barely see the courtyard outside. Guards work, haulinglogs into the clearing. They’re directed by the sheriff to place them in acircle surrounding a giant pole.

The maypole. Bastards. Yesterday it was decoratedwith colorful ribbons, the center of the children’s joy. Today it will be thecenter of the bonfire that will take my life. They’ll bring me to the pole, andthe executioner will tie me down and they will set me on fire.

I stare out, recognizing a few of the guards. They laughedand danced with me at the festivals, and now they will be the ones who light mybody on fire, the final payment for defying the pretender.

There’s the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. Loudand lumbering. Not Niall. I slip back down to the bed. I was so afraid thenight before, for Ove, for myself. Now there’s a horrible nothingness as thewindow in the door opens, and the mayor’s puffy face shows through the opening.

“Traitorous bitch.”

Yes, I’ll likely hear a whole lot of that. “Tell mesomething I don’t know.”

His face twists, contorting into a mask of fury. “I’ll tellyou something you don’t know. I’ve placed wards around the village. No magic isgoing to save you.”

I didn’t expect it to. It’s standard procedure to ward thejail against all magic. The sheriff certainly doesn’t want prisoners to be ableto escape death by way of witchcraft. I wouldn’t be surprised if Micha has thewhole damn village warded after yesterday. “I didn’t expect it to. I don’ttruly understand what happened yesterday. I know you won’t believe it, but Idon’t care. I didn’t mean to torch your guard.”

“He died, you know.”

I’m surprised to not feel a thing. It was the guard or Ove,and Ove didn’t do anything wrong. In that moment, I would have killed anyonewho tried to hurt the innocent youngling. I would do it again. I will never beable to sit by and watch. If I didn’t feel that power surge, I would haveattempted to stop the guard in some other way. I couldn’t sit idly by and watchas someone was killed for no reason.

But that’s what you’ve been doing for thirteen years,Princess Bronwyn.

“You don’t even care. I never knew you at all. Knowthis—I’ll find that brownie and I’ll throw her on a fire, too.” Micha huffs asthough he expected something more. Some groveling perhaps or offers of my bodyin exchange for a bit of mercy.

That isn’t going to happen. I’m not stupid. After whathappened yesterday, there will be no mercy for me. I’m happy someone hadthought to hide Ove away. “What do you want, Micha?”