The laughter from the gallery clawed through the air, sharp and cold.
The body of Joris swayed above the platform—small, limp, and terribly still.
I couldn’t look away. His boots scraped the wood once before the motion stopped completely. The sound burned through the square louder than any trumpet.
“Cut him down!” I shouted, voice raw. “Now!”
No one moved at first. The guards looked between me and the queen, frozen by fear and orders that suddenly meant nothing.
“Do it!” Rowan bellowed, his deep voice breaking through the panic. He pushed through the crowd himself, shoving two men aside. His broad frame and stormy face made space wherever he went. “Now, damn it!”
Two soldiers scrambled up the steps, their hands shaking as they reached the rope. The crowd had gone silent except for a
