Page 75 of Uncrowned

“I shouldn’t want them to live. I… I should be enjoying this.” Her fingers pressed into her lips and she lowered, crying out as she sat back in the chair. “How is one supposed to enjoy death?” She turned, searching my face. “Does it get easier? Will I… Will I be able to stomach this someday? …Should I?”

“Please!”

The screams grew louder. Penelope’s head turned to watch, and I was glad she’d been distracted. I didn’t want to tell her, yes, in time it would get easier. A large part of me didn’t want her immune. But it would happen. Especially after the rapes. Penelope wasn’t innocent anymore. The Order had taken that from her. My guards had stolen something so precious, and now they were paying for it.

“Can I hold your hand? Am I allowed to do that?”

Penelope’s pitch was higher through her anxiety as she continued to watch. Even though she asked, she was already searching for my hand. I slid my fingers through hers, letting her squeeze as both executioners took position next to the guards. Both had large knives in their hands, and I could see that Penelope was confused by it.

“This won’t be quick. There are stages.”

“Stages?” She glanced over at me. “They’re not going to just cut them apart?”

My head shook. “They have my blood inside of them. Do you see that trench around the platform?”

Penelope’s neck craned and she nodded.

“First, they’re going to make incisions to bleed them out. While they’re bleeding⁠—”

Both executioners lowered beginning to make the incisions along the inside of the arms and along the inner sides of their thighs, all the way down to their ankles. Harder, Penelope held to me. Her free hand was at her mouth, and she was pale as she stayed glued ahead. The men were convulsing, thrashing as the knifes drew back from their legs. The volume in the room was deafening as they went wild in the cuffs.

I leaned in. “Next, they will be disemboweled.”

Wide blue eyes jerked to me.

“Vaughn—Don’t let me get sick. I can’t get sick.”

“You’re going to be queen. You can handle it.”

My nose nuzzled along her ear, and I breathed her scent into me. Calmness settled, and I lifted, soaking in the flames that flared to life in the large pit not feet away. The executioners drew back their blades, thrusting deep in the stomach, closer to the hip. While each cut towards the other hip, I couldn’t stop myself from bringing Penelope’s hand up to my mouth.

To kiss her was to ground her. The distraction as she watched was enough to slow her breathing, but for me…

I grazed my teeth along her finger, kissing the slip in my lust away.

For me… to kiss her was to love her. And I wanted her to know that. To feel it. Each hour was getting harder. All the weight of my world was bound to add up. But if she could remember this—me—amid the worst, perhaps there was a chance. I prayed there was, because to believe she wouldn’t run again was unwise. I knew she would.

“Penelope?”

Her head turned, and I hated the glazed look in her eyes. Her pupils were bigger now, and she was as pale as a ghost. Shock was setting in.

“Do you remember our conversation about the past?”

“Of course.” I nodded, watching as both executioners began pulling and scooping organs and intestines from the men’s bodies. “We talked about your family losing its title.”

“Yes.” She scanned my face, turning to take in the executioners, only for her wide stare to come back to me in a panic. “The king—Evans.” She stopped, tilting her head as she blinked through thoughts. “King…”

“You were right about the name. The Duke of Ironhold, David Evans, is who betrayed and killed Vaughn Edward Ambrose Masterson the first. He was the real king, and he was framed to appear as though he committed treason. He did not. Our line became The Black Line, and ever since, we’ve been searching for the proof to set things straight. I’m so close to having that proof.”

“To be king? The real king?”

“Yes.”

Silence.

Gurgling sounded. Fire crackled and hissed as they began shoveling the contents into the roaring blaze. It drew Penelope’s attention, and she squeezed my hand. Seconds passed, and she turned back to me. Her gaze searched my face. When it went to the upside-down crown and then back to me, I waited. Nothing came. Nothing but more looks, more confusion, and more squeezing to my hand as she put her focus on them hollowing out the cavities of the guards.

When they grabbed the axes to begin the quartering, Penelope sat taller. She didn’t balk. There almost seemed to be a numbness sinking in for her. That, or her mind was so consumed, she truly wasn’t seeing anything before her at all. I couldn’t tell, and I didn’t like that.