Wildest Dreams (Fantasyland #1)(141)

But it was too late.

Much too late.

And the guards knew it so they wasted even less time.

The prisoners were led out of the sleigh and quickly moved across the scaffold to stand at their noose. The two men first with Viola, looking thin, pale and terrified, bringing up the rear.

It was Viola and perhaps the violent and public way her scheme had been carried out that caught the sheer force of the biting fervor of the crowd and the minute she became visible to onlookers, snowballs were hurled with such violence and quantity, her frame jerked with every missile that landed and it became clear very quickly that these projectiles had been prepared in advance and embedded with rocks or maybe worse as only snow would not rip through her coarse clothing or tear open her skin.

And it was when she slipped on the snow at her feet and fell to her hands and knees, her hair sodden and dripping, her clothing in tatters within seconds, the icy missiles coming fast even as guards stood in front of her, holding up shields attempting to shelter her and getting pelted in their attempt, the crowd going wild at her fall and a new wave of sound hit me that I lost it.

Without thinking, I shot out of my throne, shrieked, “Stop!” and dashed to the stairs that led to the scaffold.

I didn’t make it. Stephan caught me first and then I felt myself transferred to Frey’s arms but I continued to screech, “Stop! Stop right now! Stop right now!” as I struggled against his hold.

“Finnie, wee one,” he growled in my ear with a rough squeeze, “calm yourself.”

I totally ignored him, kept struggling and kept shouting, “Stop right now!”

And that was when I noticed it and Frey did as well for he stopped trying to pull me back to my throne. He stood still and stared as those closest to the platform heard me, saw me and stopped throwing their snowballs and started staring up at me in shock. This, too, shifted through the crowd with amazing speed and they all quickly become motionless and silent as I kept screaming, “Stop!”

It took only moments for the entirety of the crowd to stop and stare and I stood there, in the curve of Frey’s arm, my chest rising and falling and I returned their stare.

Then, I don’t know what came over me, I started yelling.

Or, more accurately, lecturing my subjects like I was an honest to God princess.

“It is a measure of a nation their cunning! It is a measure of a nation their strength! And it is a measure of a nation,” I leaned forward and screeched, “their mercy!” I leaned back and surveyed the crowd and for some bizarre reason kept right on shouting. “The condemned you see before you have been tried justly and meet their sentence fairly. They have done wrong and they will pay for it. But I am not the Winter Princess of a nation who does not see that even the condemned deserve to be treated with respect as they face death. You may think they do not deserve it but it is your duty as Lunwynians to rise above their actions not fall to their depths. They will hang for their crimes and you will watch this sentence carried out. How could that not be enough for you?”

I tore my eyes away from the now whispering crowd as those close sent my words far, feeling Frey’s arm still tight around my middle but I ignored it and looked down at the scaffold.

“Bring her to her feet,” I ordered the guard standing around Viola and they shifted and stared up at me in stupefaction so I snapped, “Bring her to her feet!”

They jumped toward Viola who I avoided looking at as they helped her up and moved her to her noose. Instead, I looked back to the crowd and, yep, you guessed it, kept right on shouting.

“Today, you witness something infinitely sad. Three people who have gone wrong somewhere in their lives, done wrong because of it and therefore are paying the ultimate price. Do not stand there shouting and jeering, demonstrating that they were right to move against this great nation, those fortunate enough to inhabit her ice-bound earth and those privileged to wear her crowns. Stand there and, as the Lunwynians I know you to be, stand strong, stand proud and stand filled with mercy.” Then I turned in Frey’s arm, looked up to him and snapped, “I’m done.”

He was staring down at me with an expression I wasn’t in any mood to read and luckily he didn’t give me time to do it. Swiftly, he guided me back to my throne and I went, sat and looked back out at the now silent crowd, hands clasped in my lap, trying to deep breathe.

“Commence without delay,” Atticus barked from my left side and I watched silently (as did the crowd) as each of the condemned were allowed their last words. Berg Enger and Viola Milstrom both declined, Enger clearly shaken by the events and Viola obviously so. Hernod Grieg strangely lifted a fist and shouted, “Unite Lunwyn!” and that was it from him.

Their heads were covered with black cloth sacks, the nooses were pulled over their heads and tightened around their necks, a man in a white robe with the band displaying all the gods’ colors dangling said a few words in the ancient tongue and then Father shouted, “Lunwyn!” and the hangman walked down the length of them kicking a high wooden lever behind each of the damned and down went Enger, down went Grieg and I couldn’t help it, I closed my eyes but it was bad enough just hearing her short, sharp, heartbreaking scream that stilled abruptly when down went Viola.

Then the hangman turned and shouted, “It is done, my king!” and Frey had me out of my throne so fast, I got lightheaded. Then we were down the platform, the soles of his men’s boots sounding behind us. Then I was on Tyr, Frey was behind me, his arm tight around my ribs, he leaned us to Tyr’s back, dug his heels into Tyr’s flank and shouted, “Yah!”