Rosa looked up.
Night has finally arrived. She saw the full moon, and it was red like a pond of blood.
It was done. Her task was done. Great Elder Rosa allowed herself to close her eyes—and savor the cold breeze as it blew against her skin like gentle, massaging hands. Her skin is sticky from all the sweating, making the cold more biting, but it doesn't deter her.
"You don't have to do it," Marquess Aurelius slung his arm over her waist and kissed her shoulder. "I'll ask the emperor to let me be the one to do it."
He mistook her relief for nervousness.
He thought she was nervous as the execution approached, but he was wrong.
"His Majesty asks me, then it shall be done by me." She turned to him, offering a smile—so fragile it seemed made of glass. Her fingers brushed his cheek in a fleeting caress, but her eyes couldn't find his. Downcast. A detail he didn't miss. "I will… carry out April's execution."
Even as she said it, the words didn't feel genuine.
