Sapphire Bones

Order

Updated: April 9, 2019

L

"Please approach the bench, Miss. Bates," a voice I hadn't heard before reached my ears. After Corvo fled my cell, I slipped into a cry-induced sleep until I was awoken hours later to the sound of boots. At least two pair. Guards pulled me to my feet. The pair of shackles around my wrists were unlocked. Two rings of metal hit the ground beneath me. Before I could gather the strength to heave a single leg forward a hand hit the small of my back and forced me to move despite the raging protests in my ever-weakening muscles. They screamed for rest. Collapse was imminent but the guards kept me afoot. Without them, I wouldn't have made it ten steps.

Somehow they led me through the endless chambers forged with echoing stones that sounded like an alleyway during the witching hour. Every step I took came back at my ears like a dagger piercing just far enough into the flesh to cause the slightest jolt of pain. But I kept my head down, hair in front of my face like a set of curtains hiding the nasty truth behind closed doors. I wasn't ready to face the Council for my crimes but no other choice stood before me. Without a single Councilmember to back up my case, I was doomed. The guillotine called for me, and the gavel waited for its chance to strike its wooden plate and send me to my death by head severance. With my death, the Ruby murders were solved, a tale for the Lycan history books. I'd be a famous scapegoat, just like others before me. But instead of 'scapegoat' in front of the name, another, more sinister, adjective took its place: mass-murderer.

I followed the Chancellor's command without question. Every eye in the room settled on me as I made my way through the chamber. An empty path before me lit up with warmth on either side to keep me headed in the right direction. My hands moved with the rest of my body, searching for the source of the invisible heated rails but they came up empty, only swatting at warm air each time. An army of scents attacked my nose all at once but through the myriad, I found a familiar one. While I didn't dare reveal it to the crowd around me, a brave smile crept its way to my lips, hidden by the curtain of damp hair that covered my face from view. Corvo was somewhere in the room, but his scent was far off and away from the center of the action. He'd make a quick getaway as soon as the trial was over. I didn't want him to see the result. My head on a pike; I barely knew him but seeing that would trigger something deep inside him, something gnawing at the bit to come out.

A flash of heat came up in the front of me, one that sparked as soon as I stepped up to it. I stopped abruptly in my wake and turned my head up. My hair followed suit and found its place around my shoulders. The wet strands fell down my back and front, with drips that wet my shift. Silence worked through the room while the Council members took in my appearance. They fed off the state I was in, and no matter the length or thickness of my dress, I knew they hungered for more. To see what the guards had done. To witness a bout of torture on someone guilty of such heinous crimes. I wanted to show them. Rip off my dress and reveal the hidden sins beneath. Scars that adorned every inch of my flesh and carved their way into my muscles where, with the right movement, a bubble of blood cracked through the ever-mending marks.

"Chancellor," I squeaked out. My vocal cords cried out for me to stop. After the fit of painful rejection the previous evening, I wanted nothing more than to huddle up in the back of my cell but instead, I faced the end of my life. I heard the whispers in the room. They wondered how I did it. How a twelve-year-old accomplished something so horrible. To kill my family and friends without mercy – without a second blink at what I did. But what they didn't know was that no matter how many times they pounded their truth into my head, it could never be mine. They were gutless, spineless dogs who used their pent-up rage and authority on the innocent.

"Miss. Bates," he hissed. The Chancellor's voice was unlike any others in the room. Smooth like a satin scarf but edged like a finely sharpened blade at the crook of my neck. It bit through the air, a shank made of the coldest ice. He knew the power of his words and dared to use it to his advantage.