Wattys 2022 Shortlist Nominee
Darius Starbán, disgraced King of Starkovia, joins up with Demon-Spawn Inquisitor Urien, his ex-boyfriend and wealthy aristocrat Yra, and new friend Astrid as they tromp across the countryside fixing Darius' 400-year-ol...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Hey, friends, we can talk about this, ya? C-Come, now. Pull this noose from off my neck so we can speak civilly."
"You had your chance to talk, Starbán. Shut your gob or we'll stuff it with tar."
A man whose hands smelled strongly of garlic placed a wreath of the bulbs around my neck and then gave a good, strong tug on the noose. The rough rope pulled up against my skin, scraping and burning a rash into my neck. I chuckled nervously as I looked onward to a crowd of angry protestors, the citizens of the town that had but weeks ago lay beneath the parapets of my castle, hands full of torches and pitchforks. Those were the only weapons the townspeople had.
"Liliya! Liliya Sorensson will attest to my innocence. I've turned over a new leaf! I swear it!" I choked out while the executioner tugged on ropes around my wrists. They spared no expense in keeping me stationary. It was all for show. At a moment's notice I could escape, with ease, honestly, but that was not the point. I had to be good.
"Liliya has gone to Kalka. There is no one here to speak for you."
I had really gotten myself into... something. I had made the miscalculated assumption that I could go on a late-night walk into town without my travelling companions, and it seemed that the people of the town of Starkovia would make sure it was the last mistake I would make. No friendly faces bobbed in the crowd, and I fought the garlic bulbs at my neck. The soft, dry husks of the bulbs tickled at the underside of my jaw, and I twitched to get them away from my skin. Irritating, at best.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"You know hanging me does nothing, ya?" I decided on a different approach. I bared my teeth at the executioner, roaring out, and he, along with several people at the foot of the wooden platform I stood on, jumped back. They feared me because they knew I defied death. I had ruled them for hundreds of years – at a distance, granted – so, did they really think a noose was going to do the trick? "I will swing, and swing, but I will not die. Don't you village people know anything?"
"You'll swing, certainly," the executioner replied, his hands folded calmly behind his back as if he were giving a religious sermon. "And then we will leave you here until the dawn breaks the mountains. Then... you'll burn."
