"...so be it..."such an escape...see you soon, my silent assassin..."
Setia retreated silently. She stepped outside, facing the entrance to the dungeons. She felt a knot in her stomach and the blood pounding in her temples. She could barely breath as something deep inside her was gripping her hear tightly.
Betrayal.
Fucking Orchad had betrayed her.
How could she have been so naive? Never leave your enemies behind, or you'll have to look back all your life. That was her father's advice. She became careless after a comfortable life here in Emfer and she was way too trustful. She had a dagger in her boot as she was always carrying it there. Old habits don't die that easily. She breathed hard and her heart was pounding like crazy. She knew she had to make a decision fast.
She knew she mustn't be weak.
In the world of mercenaries being weak meant death.
She heard his footsteps; she only had this one chance. Jefre was faster and stronger than her; if she hesitated, she would lose. She stood in the alcove next to the door and held her breath. Orchad appeared in the doorway, and when he turned his back to close the door, she plunged the dagger into his side with a single thrust.
"Death for treason," she whispered in his ear and pulled the dagger out. Jefre made no sound and he crumbled to the ground while Setia turned around and ran to the castle. She had to call the guard and make sure Aktis knew there was no escape.
Adrenaline was pumping through her veins. Her mind was in absolute confusion. She didn't turn back, she couldn't finish him off in the second go. No, she didn't want to look at Jefre. For a moment she thought that this wasn't real. She stopped at the wall and leaned her forehead against the cold wall, tears flowing silently down her cheeks. Her hands bounced off the wall in an act of helpless despair until blood appeared on her palms. Setia wanted to scream something deep inside her hurt like hell. All those moments they shared together were flashing through her mind. She landed on her knees unable to stand.
Jefre.
She thought that he, that together... no, she won't speak of him again.
Never again.
Breathe in and breathe out. She has to focus on herself.
After a moment, she regained control. She did what she had to; if not today, then tomorrow, he would betray her, such was the nature of the snake that he was. She did the right thing, wiping her tears with her sleeve and letting the light spring wind dry the moisture from her face. Setia stood up. She must remain strong. Three more deep breaths and she headed straight for the servants' room.
A small woodlouse slowly wandered along the crack by the window. It moved quickly, its gleaming armored body reflecting the moonlight. Stars appeared in the sky, and a gentle breeze blew through the window. Which was a welcome change.
The end.
Die now, or wait for tomorrow's spectacle, lay my head on a chopping block, knowing that in a moment a great axe would shatter my cervical vertebrae and my severed head would roll in the mud with a slosh of gushing blood. What was it like to lie in a sack over my head on a chopping block, waiting for the blow? She had witnessed several executions, always turning away in disgust. Some screamed, others begged for mercy or soiled their clothes with urination from fear. Would she do the same? The proud Queen of Fenigrid, a beautiful and deadly ruler. The world used to lay at her feet.
And now?
She was sitting on a bundle of dirty straw with a bottle of poison in her hand. No one would come to save her, Brandis was dead, Jefre had left her, she had no sons or daughters. The lords would be happy to be rid of their inconvenient competition. She regretted many things. She could have handled the trial differently and demanded a legist, her own legist. By the time he was brought from Fenigrid, much could have changed. She didn't truly believe they would convict her. And yet… The end. She fixed her hair; she still wore the royal diadem, stood up, and smoothed her dress. Then she lay down on the bench, opened the bottle, and drank the contents in one gulp. It had no taste, it was like water. Jefre had said it was gentle and would simply fall asleep, without pain. Images from her life flashed before her eyes. Playing with her sister and talking about the future, her mother's kisses, the wedding with the King of Fenigrid, the disappointment and pain of his betrayal, the longing for her child and the passion for Jefre, the peace and stability that Brandis gave her and the faces, the faces of the people she ordered to kill. Will she meet them all in the afterlife? Oh well, the one true Queen of Fenigrid is leaving; the new one will only be her faint reflection.
She closed her eyes tighter, feeling moisture on her cheek and a drowsiness, powerful, dark, and final. From somewhere in the distance, she heard the sound of footsteps and the clang of bars before everything became fuzzy and silent.
The Queen Fenigrid was gone.
"She's dead," a young guard with red hair touched Aktis's hand—still warm, it must have happened moments ago." He looked at his fellow guard.
"Let Idir cover it with his wing," a fat guard with pockmarks on his face cursed, calling the god of death. "Who will tell this to the dutchess?" He looked at his friend and scratched his head with a dumbfounded expression.
"Neither you nor I," the redhead smiled triumphantly. "The shift commander is Borwin, let him tell her everything. And by the way, Sagro and Faren will be punished for drinking on duty. I almost feel sorry for them."