The King & the Stable Boy

LIV: Guillotine

Last chapter! Next chapter is the Epilogue, hard to believe. It's been a years long journey, and I'm so sad to say that this is Noah's final words. I never expected this story to do as well as it has, but let me get on to the chapter and save the emotions for the note at the end of the epilogue.

I woke up to a sharp scream echoing down my cell block. It sounded young, boyish. That poor kid. Chandler called out in comfort to the little one.

The rebels dungeons smelt like urine, feces, vomit, and decay, its inhabitants not faring much better. I've been down here for three days at most and not once have I been graced with a meal. Say what you will about how cruel the Royal dungeons were, but at least we have some sort of humanity.

The worse part about being down here wasn't the sounds or the smell, no it was the link that tied a Royal to their people. It's as if their pain amplified my own down here. Their misery was suffocating.

I heard a pair of heavy boots coming down the corridor, and turned my back to the cell door, feigning sleep.

The door loudly swung open and a firm hand dropped onto my shoulder.

"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty. Execution days come."

I contemplated being silent, but then I thought I'd have a little fun.

"Sleeping Beauty? I believe you have your Royal analogies all mixed up. I'd like to think I'm more of a pauper. Though, while we're on the subject, you do resemble Gaston... If he got caught in the middle of a really bad potion battle between two bags and his face melted."

He slapped my face, hard, I was sure it'd leave a mark if I was mortal.

"You really need to wash your hands. I'm not sure if it's the lack of food, but I could have sworn dirt simply flew off of it on impact." I taunted.

He rose his hand to lay another hit, and I turned my unmarred cheek towards him, unbothered. I could practically feel the rage pouring off of him before he let out a calming breath, roughly grabbed my arm, and dragged me out of the cell.

"Careful, this blouse has more value than what your boss would estimate your life to cost."

"I thought you royals were supposed to be prim and proper." The grunt says through gritted teeth.

"You can take a boy out of the stables and put a crown on his head, but you never quite take the stable out of the boy."

He's silent for a moment before a wicked grin spreads across his face.

"Is your ass sore?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You've been riding horses then hopped on the king's dick, and who knows how many other nobles, I just thought I'd express some concern."

My jaw dropped for a second before I regained my composure and glared.

"I somewhat respect him for that comment." Chandler says.

Of course the funniest interaction of my life would happen my death day. The fates must have a sense of humour. If I survive this, I'm sure William nearly die laughing, however at this rate, I fear I'd die first.

We finally got to the exit of the dungeons, the sunlight blinding me at first, causing me to stumble as I'm dragged off to gods know where.

I look around, trying to grasp my bearings. We are still in Hemera, that much is for sure, but where? The town seems to be crawling with rebels, not a civilian insight, unless of course they've all welcomed the intrusion to their village.

The guard practically paraded me around the streets as some trophy, which I suppose I was. To these people I was nothing more than a bragging right, and that irritated me to no end. How many other lives have they taken for selfish ambition? Who's blood has stained this soil unjustly?

I didn't have long to dwell on such thoughts as we drew close to what I knew was meant to be my final destination.

Twenty or so feet before me was a platform, just at the center of the square, a horde of shifters crowding around it, cheering and taunting. At first I wasn't sure what to make of it, but when the sun gleamed against the silver blade and we drew close enough to see one of my guards forced on his knees, his head in the notch just a few short feet below it, I knew.

Guillotine.

I'd never seen one up close before, I knew that they were used obviously, but I never had the desire to see someone's head chopped off their body. Today however I had no choice, as the executioner cut the rope, and the guard held the back of my neck tightly, stopping me from looking away. I couldn't slam my eyes shut fast enough, in the darkness behind my eyelids the scene of Amin's head coming off and rolling replaying.

When I reopened them, the crowd seemed even more ferocious and blood thirsty, some female siren officer of the rebellion making a sick show of kissing the severed head before drinking blood from it. I wanted to puke, to set my body aflame and get the hell out of here, but I knew I was too weak to do so and powerless to stop myself from being pushed forward to where a man just died, his blood still staining the blade as it's being repositioned.

I'm held at the bottom of the staircase leading up to the platform, as the rebellions leader takes a stand at the center to address the crowd.

They ate up his words but they fell deaf onto my ears as I caught sight of a familiar, very alive face.

"Samara!" I yelled, catching the attention of my witch of a best friend who was being held back by two guards just a few feet to my right.

She shook them off with ease, running to me and throwing her arms around my neck.

"How are you so well?" I ask her, looking her up and down after she pulls away.

"It takes a lot more to weaken a witch than a shifter." she says. "You look like shit my dear. The past week and a half has treated you poorly."

It's been nearly two weeks? My time perception was much worse than I'd realized. They must have drugged me.

"This is all wrong. Where's Enzo? Where's Roman? No, this is wrong." Chandler whines. "A week and a half, they must have done something! They must have tracked us, this isn't right."

"We took our best witch on staff with us, not even we can tell where we are. This looks nothing like their base, Chandler. They haven't brought us to home base to kill us."

"What do you mean- No! Let me go! Sammy!" I shouted as I'm forced onto the platform and onto my knees by two sets of arms.

I look down at the blood soaked wood of the notch in the guillotine utterly disgusted. Someone forces my head down from behind and I wince at the warm wetness at my neck.

The magnitude of that settled on me. William was resourceful sure, but he would need a powerful witch to help us, one with a memory of me, one that could be trusted. The only candidates for that are Samara and Zion, who is busy controlling her own kingdom.

"As you all know, we lost our brethren a few days ago. The bastards came down from their high castle and slaughtered them, everyone who cared for our cause. They think that they've won this war, but we had an ace up our sleeves. They're only as strong as their leader, and no man is strong enough to survive the death of their mate. Once this blade falls, the monarchy of Anicia will with it."

The crowd cheered at his words, encouraging him to cut the rope. I slammed my eyes shut as I saw the knife cut through the last tether of the rope, hearing nothing but the whiz of the blade crashing down and then silence.