The Wicked Crown

CHAPTER 13

"I swear! I didn't—" the knight cried.

"Enough of the lies!" The queen hissed. But deep down there was that guilt... the guilt of what she had done. What she and Darius had done.

She knew it wasn't fair.

The knight was pretty innocent, first of all. Not completely innocent, since he had lied to the queen and king about glamouring Clara. But he wasn't the one who killed Vivienne.

That didn't matter, though. Not when no one would know the truth.

The knight was sitting on a chair, his hands bound tight together behind his back. He was a knight no more.

"Bring the Graspirine!" the queen said. She was sitting elegantly on a gold chair, her crown perched on her head, her hair neatly made. Eleanor's eyes were glittering with an emotion no one could describe. A mix between guilt, joy, and sadism. She was sadistic, for sure. But how could that be?

She was a queen. The queen of Vastraxus. The Royals were not sadistic.

In Vastraxus, how much you would suffer in the execution would depend on how big the crime was. That is, if it even was grand enough to lead to an execution. If the crime was not that immense, it would vary between different types of poison.

Graspirine was one of those... poisons that made you suffer plenty. It was too atrocious to even be called a poison; too atrocious to describe what it did to you. A liquid that felt like torture when ingested, perhaps?

A servant came over with a tray, carefully. A vial of Graspirine was on the tray.

After opening the vial, the executioner forced open the knight's jaw, and slowly poured it in, in front of the entire court. Though no one saw, the queen smirked as she heard the cries of agony come from the knight, the blood that he wretched out, struggling against the rope that tied up his hands. She watched as the Graspirine did what it usually did.

Slowly, the screams of anguish faded away.

The body of the knight was limp. Crimson stained his clothes and the wooden chair.