Mated To My Executioner

Chapter 1 "You have any last words?" The executioner's voice cut through the silence like the edge of the blade resting against his shoulder. Vespera Nyx slowly raised her head up. Three years. Three years of chains that had carved scars into her wrists. Three years of darkness, starvation, and endless accusations. Three years since the kingdom branded her as a murderer. Now, it was over. She looked past the executioner and into the sea of different faces that gathered below the stone platform. Thousands had come. Children sat on their fathers' shoulders. Merchants abandoned their stalls. Nobles occupied the front rows, dressed in silks as though they had come to watch a festival rather than a woman's death. No one looked at her with pity. Only hatred. Only disgust. Only satisfaction. "Murderer!" "Monster!" "Kill her!" "She deserves worse than death!" Rotten fruit struck her shoulder while a stone grazed her cheek, splitting the skin. Warm blood slid down her face. Vespera didn't flinch. Pain had stopped frightening her from years ago. A herald stepped forward, unfolding a long scroll sealed with the royal crest. "In accordance with the laws of the Lycan Kingdom of Velmora," he announced, his voice echoing across the execution square, "the prisoner, Vespera Nyx, is hereby found guilty of the assassination of His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Caelan Volaris." The crowd erupted. "Guilty!" "Kill her!" "Death to the traitor!" The herald continued. "For the crime of treason against the crown and the murder of the future king, the sentence is death by beheading. The execution shall be carried out immediately under the authority of His Majesty." Silence followed. Every eye turned toward the man dressed entirely in black. The kingdom's executioner. Rhyven Blackthorn. Even standing still, he radiated authority. His long black coat moved with the wind. Leather gloves covered his hands. A massive silver sword rested against his shoulder, its blade polished to perfection. He was young. Far younger than Vespera had imagined. Perhaps only twenty–eight. Tall enough to tower over nearly every guard surrounding the platform. His face was breathtakingly handsome... Cold. Emotionless. The kind of face that had forgotten how to smile. People whispered his name with fear. They said he had never spared a single condemned soul. Not one. If Rhyven Blackthorn lifted his sword... Death always followed. He descended the platform's steps with slow, measured strides until he stood before her. Close enough for her to see the storm–gray color of his eyes. Close enough for her to hear his steady breathing. He studied her. Not as a man. As an executioner examining another duty. "You have any final words?" he asked again. Vespera laughed. It wasn't loud. It wasn't bitter. It was exhausted. "What difference would it make?" The crowd booed. Someone screamed for her head. Rhyven remained silent. "You murdered an innocent prince," he finally said. She looked directly into his eyes. "No." He frowned. "No?" "I didn't kill him." "You expect anyone to believe that?" "I don't care what anyone believes anymore." For a brief of moment, something flickered across his face. Curiosity. Then it vanished and he turned away. "Prepare the prisoner." Two guards forced Vespera onto her knees with cold iron chains wrapped tighter around her wrists. Another guard pushed her head toward the execution block. The rough wood touched her skin. Above her, clouds swallowed the morning sun. A strange wind swept through the square. The banners surrounding the execution grounds began snapping violently. People looked toward the sky. "The weather..." "Why is it changing?" A child started crying. Even the horses became restless. Vespera closed her eyes. So this was how her life was going to end. Not with the truth. Not with justice. Only silence. She whispered to herself. "If there truly is a Moon Goddess then let the real murderer be exposed." Rhyven gripped the hilt of his execution sword. The entire kingdom held its breath waiting. He lifted the blade high into the air. Sunlight flashed against the steel. One swing. That was all it would take. The sword descended. Then— Pain suddenly exploded inside his chest. Rhyven froze. His heartbeat slammed violently against his ribs. His wolf that as been silent for years, roared with such force that his knees nearly buckled. Mate. The word echoed through every corner of his mind. Impossible. His gaze shot to the woman kneeling before him. At the exact same moment, Vespera's emerald eyes flew open fast. A sharp gasp escaped her lips as an invisible force crashed into her soul. She felt it too. No... No, this couldn't be happening. Not now. Not here. Not with him. The execution square fell eerily silent as Rhyven lowered his sword without striking. The guards stared. The nobles rose from their seats. The King narrowed his eyes from the royal balcony. "What are you doing?" the commander shouted. Rhyven didn't answer. His wolf growled again. She is ours. He stepped closer to the condemned woman. Close enough that only she could hear his next words. His jaw tightened. His voice was barely above a whisper. "You are my mate." Vespera's face drained of color. Tears she had refused to shed for three years finally filled her eyes. The Moon Goddess had chosen now... The day of her execution... To give her a mate. One she had been expecting for ages. And not just any mate. The man whose sword had been raised to take her life. Before anyone could understand what was happening, Rhyven turned to face the stunned crowd. His voice thundered across the execution square. "Stop the execution." A collective gasp swept through the thousands of spectators. Even the King lurched to his feet. Rhyven drove his sword into the wooden platform with a deafening clang. "I refuse to carry out this sentence." The square erupted into chaos. But before anyone could react. A hooded archer hidden among the crowd smiled and quietly raised a poisoned arrow, aiming straight at Vespera's unprotected heart.