Blood for her Crown

Chapter Twenty-Four

Ciden

She had left him behind, and it was okay. He had truly wanted her to. The only reason he had left in the first place was to keep the group safe, and now he told her to let him go for the same.

Now he was sitting on Calimir, tied up, allowing Vayne to lead the way to his execution.

Suddenly, he felt lightheaded and started swaying. What was going on? He hadn't lost much blood in the last hour.

"What did you do?" he asked the assassin in front of him.

Vayne turned around in his saddle, sparing him a brief glance before turning back. "Poison. You will lose consciousness in a few seconds. Even before you had the chance to ask them, I began to get bored with all of your questions about your friend. "I suppose I should say good night now."

Bastard.

Ciden wished he had told him that before everything went dark.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Hours must have passed until he opened his eyes again. Dawn was breaking. The rising sun bathed the sky above him in golden colors.

He'd been sleeping for nearly a day.

Looking around, all he could see were meadows and a few lonely trees and bushes. While he still sat on Calimir's back, Vayne led them through the low grass and wheat. Ciden turned around and saw no sign of the forest or the mountain.

Had it been a day, or even two, since he'd passed out? He was afraid of getting another dose of poison if he asked, so he chose to observe for a while instead.

After about a half-hour of nothing happening, which he had kind of expected, he finally asked, "How long until we get there?" His voice came out low and husky, and he could feel the words scratching against his throat as if he had swallowed shards of glass.

Vayne didn't seem surprised by his sudden question. "Why? Do you really need to know how much time you have left to compose an epic speech to persuade your dear brother to let you live despite what you did to your mother?"

"What are you talking about?" Ciden questioned, forcing his unsteady voice to sound sincerely confused.

"Now don't sound so surprised. You don't have to pretend to be shocked that I know about this unpleasant incident. Actually, I'd be disappointed if you actually believed I was incapable of figuring this out."

He had to keep his act together. This could not be used against him as well. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"No, of course you don't. Because you were arrogant enough to believe that no one would suspect you. I'll be honest with you; I have yet to figure out what reason you possibly could have had to kill your own mother, because for years, I couldn't get behind that."

Damn it. So he hadn't been bluffing.

"Honestly, even I had admired her. I realize I shouldn't be the one to tell you that since it's mainly me who takes the lives of usually innocent people, but it's been a surprise. To both me and your brother." Vayne's voice resembled an ancient glacier that was about to melt from the anger he tried to hold back. Still, the rage and the threat were impossible to ignore. "And believe me when I say that Dyon, like me, was inconclusive as to why you would have done such a thing, but along with that, he was just as furious."

That was because Dyon had always gotten along with her. Sure, she hadn't been a bad person, and she had always tried to be a decent mother to both of them, but she wasn't. At least not in the end. Ciden was the only person who had truly known his mother, and he had to pay for it. But he didn't mention any of that. He merely remained silent and let the assassin be the harbinger of morality. As if Ciden hadn't realized it was a mistake the moment it happened. He had regretted it ever since. But what could he do now? Certainly not bring her back. The only thing they could do was punish him for the worst decision he'd ever made, which he was fine with. He knew that was his well-deserved fate. Even if she had begged him to end her life, he should have sought another way to save her. At that age, he shouldn't have had to be the one to put a stop his own mother's suffering. No child deserved that.

"Of course you wouldn't be able to defend yourself. Nothing can justify that, Ciden. If it had been anyone else, hell knows I could never be the one to judge anyone for murder. But your mother..."

Even though he did in fact have a rather valid explanation for it, Ciden kept quiet. It might explain his motive, but the action was still unforgivable.

Vayne halted his horse and waited until Calimir was close enough to look Ciden in the eyes. "I will beg Dyon to let me witness whatever he has planned for you. If I had any say in this, I'd skin you alive with a healer at hand so I could drag it out over a week without you missing a single second. Dyon, believe me, would let me if he hadn't intended something far worse." A violent grin spread across his face, his eyes gleaming like a blade about to decapitate you. "I may be the one who gets paid to torture whoever he wants, but the instructions have come from him more than once. Your brother knows just as much about those methods as I do."

Ciden's stomach churned at his words. He had no doubts about that. Dyon had always found great interest in torture techniques, executions, and revenge. It's no surprise he turned out this way. "I expected nothing less."

"You'd better start counting your days, Ammadon," Vayne warned, spurring his horse again.

Ciden still didn't know how much time he had left, which made counting his days difficult, but he figured it would be a bad idea to ask Vayne about it again. He could only assume that they had around seven days of travel ahead of them. Six, if Vayne kept pushing the horses forward at this speed.

He decided to cease talking to Vayne for the rest of the time he had left since he wasn't in the mood for another fight, injury, or reminder of his mistakes. He'd had enough of that.

So the next few days passed in silence. Every time they took a short break, Ciden was chained to a tree like the horses while Vayne went hunting. They ate without saying anything, but Ciden was glad about the food. He wouldn't have been surprised if Dyon had ordered his ambassador to let him starve.

None of them seemed to mind the silence between them. Ciden felt the days dragging by as slowly as they had never before. He used to understand the meaning of time—that he was supposed to treasure every second he had, especially now that his life could only be measured in days. He could count down the hours until it was over, but he couldn't force himself to appreciate what he had left. The minutes, which passed like hours, were torturing him. They left the delusion that he got closer to the end he dreaded when he actually needed to fight an entire week ahead of him.

All he wanted at this point was to die. Not because he didn't want a life anymore, but because he knew there was no hope of one. He was going to die—that much was certain. And the worst part was not exactly knowing when or how it would happen, but only who would do it.

The only reason he considered starting another fight with Vayne was to put an end to these thoughts. Even if it was a terrible distraction that would end painfully, it would be more appealing than dreading his own death every second.

But he didn't say a word. He just sat in the saddle, looking forward to another mountain that hid the view of his graveyard. They were almost there.