Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 83933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“The crimen.” More pressure. Almost enough to break bones. “It draws the beasts.”
“You and our audience are the only beasts in the vicinity,” I snipped. “And I don’t even know what a crimen is.”
“Lack of knowledge doesn’t alter the truth or what must be done to safeguard the town.”
As my legs threatened to snap in half, the metallic odor of Rags’s blood reached my nostrils, overshadowing the intoxicating, earthy perfume. I gagged on a surge of bile. Strength draining…
“What did you take?” Jasher asked. He almost sounded curious.
“An elixir for my wrist. But I dropped it before drinking any,” I admitted, because why not? “Won’t you show me a shred of compassion?”
Jasher didn’t hesitate. “I will not.”
He proved his words, too, increasing the pressure. Still I fought. Fought so hard sweat dripped down my temples. But in my weakened— and weakening—condition, there was no outlasting him. It wasn’t long before I sank to my knees and rested my upper body upon the wet wood.
“I’ll make it quick, my aim true,” he vowed, both merciful and pitiless.
End of conversation—end of the line? No. No! Such a travesty of justice would be stopped.
Jasher’s clothing rustled, and I didn’t have to glance over my shoulder to know he readied his weapon. I opened my mouth to say something, anything.
“A law has been broken,” he called, and tears welled.
“I’ll pay for the elixir,” I babbled. “I just need time.”
“There must be payment in blood,” a woman cried, frenzied with worry as dozens of lightning bolts zigzagged above our heads. “Quickly!”
Murmurs of agreement blended into a terrible, grating song.
“Will anyone show mercy and take her place?” Jasher asked, a replay of Rags’s last minutes alive.
No one offered, same as before. A new clap of thunder shook the dais. The audience went still and quiet as my would-be executioner lifted his ax. I squeezed my lids shut.
This couldn’t be my last few seconds alive. I was supposed to return home, ensuring my dad didn’t spend the remainder of his days missing another woman he loved. Needed to enjoy one last lecture. Rye, he might say. You’ve never truly lived. Stop wasting precious time, get out there, and fall in love.
An invisible metal spike speared my chest. Would the death of his only child spur his?
Jasher shifted.
I braced.
The crowd held its collective breath, waiting with anticipation.
“I’ll pay her debt,” Mr. Green announced, and my lids popped open. He stepped toward us. “But in return for my extreme generosity, she must agree to muck my stable.”
Finally! Something was going my way. Clean a stable? Done.
“Do you accept, Moriah Shaker?” Jasher asked, a thread of warning in his voice.
Upset that he wouldn’t meet his beheadings quota? “Yes!” I scrambled to my knees, my feet. “I’ll work off those silvers, no problem.” Shouldn’t take more than a day, possibly two.
Mr. Green waved to a rotund, bald man, who stood beside a roofless cart with barred walls. A pole separated the cab from the caged wagon, with a gagged redhead tied to it, scarecrow style. She looked young, maybe sixteen years old. A slightly older brunette and two pale hair boys sat shackled nearby.
Baldman reached in and freed Brunette. A little too rough for my liking, he hefted her out. She wore a potato sack, and she didn’t fight him.
Prickles erupted over my nape. Did she carry Mr. Green’s wallet or something?
With a hand on my lower back, Jasher urged me forward. “Go.” His hard baritone welcomed no arguments. “Now.”
Legs shaking, I slowly made my way over. At the same time, Baldman gave the brunette a hard push. She stumbled onto the stage, holding her head high. Defiance glittered in her lovely blue eyes.
As we passed each other, she muttered, “Trust no one.”
At the steps, I paused to cast a worried glance over my shoulder. Just in time to watch as the other woman willingly knelt at the chopping block.
What the—No! “She’ll toss a few silvers on the stump then go on her merry way, right? She isn’t meant to die for me. Right?” The last word escaped as a screech. “I agreed to muck the stable!”
Looking annoyed, Baldman stomped up the steps to clasp my good wrist. “Mucking a stable means dying for your titleholder, you fool.”
I grappled for freedom, attempting to get to Brunette, but Baldman proved too strong and quickly wrangled me inside the roofless cage, using a metal cuff to shackle me in place. Hay provided a cushion, at least, but it stunk.
Realization set in. I’d become Mr. Green’s prisoner—in Brunette’s place. I fought my bonds. The boys reeked of sweat and fear. The teenager fought her bonds. For the time being, I ignored all three, choosing to press my face against the bars and peer out.
Jasher moved behind Brunette. The “substitute.” Provided by Mr. Green, the “titleholder.” The words made sense at last. I only wished they didn’t.