I HAD NEVER seen a crowd turn into a mob, or a mob turn into a riot. That is, until Nedra raised the dead in front of most of Northface Harbor.
When the dead first opened their eyes and pointed to me, I could not rip my gaze away from theirs. While I doubted many people were able to discern the word their silent lips mouthed, I did.
When the corpses hung limp once more, I turned to the Emperor.
His face was filled with an expression I could not name. Not fear, not exactly.
I’m sure he thinks they were pointing at him, I thought. But I knew: The shame of these people’s deaths was on me and me alone.
And I wished, more than anything else in that moment, that Nedra didn’t know the role I had played in the hanging. My father had once told me that executioners always shrouded their faces under a black hood so that they could hide from the death they were inflicting. But it wasn’t true. They hid from the living, the ones who saw what they were doing.
How foolish of me to assume I could hide behind a scroll of parchment with the words Execution Order written across the top.
The captain of the Emperor’s Guard rushed up the steps of the viewing box. “Your Imperial Majesty,” she said breathlessly. She threw one arm over the Emperor’s shoulder, half leading, half pushing him to the steps. I raced after them, tripping on the Emperor’s gilded chair as I ran. The sword the Emperor had given me jabbed painfully at my thigh.
The Guard swarmed around us as we touched the ground. Ropes had been arranged to partition the crowd, giving the invited guests a special viewing area. Now everyone ran wildly, pushing and shoving in an effort to get somewhere, anywhere else. Just away.
But the Guard, trained from the best soldiers Miraband had to offer, was too well disciplined for that. They easily formed a triangular shape with their bodies, moving as one like a spear through the crowd. The Emperor was placed in the center of the formation, and he latched on to my wrist, dragging me with him into the protective barrier of his soldiers. Behind the red-coated Guard, I could hear people screaming and running, the noise of their feet thunderous.
The gardens will be ruined, I thought, then shook my head. Flowers and trees could be replanted. What about the people who’d been plague victims, walking with the aid of crutches or wooden legs? What about the orphans, with no one to guide them to safety?
While everyone else streamed away from the gallows, the Guard led us directly beneath the hanging dead. I looked up at their feet dangling over me. And beyond them, to the bright blue sky with powdery clouds swirling through the air.
Past the platform, there were fewer people—everyone here had already fled. The Guard broke their formation, but only after the mounted patrol had encircled them.
“No,” the Emperor said.
“It’s safest—” the captain started, but she was cut off by a withering stare from Emperor Auguste. The Guard wanted us to travel back to the castle using the prisoners’ carriage, now empty. But I could see why the Emperor didn’t want to get inside. It might be protected with thick walls, but there were also iron bars and locks. And the lingering memory of the fate of the last occupants.
“You there.” Emperor Auguste pointed to one of the mounted patrol. The soldier broke away from the protective circle that surrounded us, dismounting as soon as he was in front of the Emperor. He held the reins of his black gelding in one hand, artfully bowing. It was all so formal and practiced, as if the chaos outside the circle wasn’t happening at all.
The Emperor took the reins out of the soldier’s hand. He turned to me. “You ride?” he asked.
“I can, yes.”
The Emperor pointed at another mounted soldier. “You.” He pointed, and in moments that soldier’s horse’s reins were in my hand.
“Your Imperial Majesty,” the captain of the Emperor’s Guard said. “You will be exposed if you ride. My soldiers will have a more difficult time protecting—”
The Emperor cut her off. “Your soldiers aren’t coming with us.”
“Sire?” the captain said, her brow furrowing.
“You men,” the Emperor said, waving a hand at the mounted patrol still astride their horses. “Head east, in formation. The Guard will head south. Astor and I are riding north.”
“We don’t know where the necromancer is,” the captain said. “You could be riding straight into a trap.”
“Nedra’s not a threat,” I said, but everyone ignored me.
And I wasn’t sure I even believed myself at this point. I had understood why she raised her sister, and even why she’d raised the dead at the hospital. But she seemed to have turned the prisoners into revenants out of spite.
“I gave a command,” the Emperor said coldly. “Not a request for your input.”
The captain squared her shoulders. As the Emperor and I mounted our horses, she called out orders to the Guard and the mounted patrol, directing them exactly as the Emperor had commanded.
The Emperor dug his heels into the side of the black gelding, racing north. Gravel sprayed out around us. I allowed myself one last look at the Imperial Gardens—the trampled grass, the emptying grounds, the thirteen dead bodies—before my horse galloped after him.