Kingmakers, Year Two

17. Miles

17

MILES

I ’m in the Prison Tower, in the cell next to Ozzy.

Rocco Prince is on my other side. Dax and Jasper in the cell next to him.

The girls aren’t being disciplined. All accounts agreed that they were not voluntary participants in the fight.

For Rocco, Dax, Jasper, and me, the punishment is seven days without food, and only 500 mL of water.

The torment is extreme. The starvation I could deal with, but the thirst is constant torture. My lips are cracked and parched. My throat and tongue so swollen I can barely speak. My skin gritty with salt .

I’m filthy. We have no extra water to bathe. I can’t sleep because I dream of cool, flowing faucets, and I wake up gasping.

Yet none of this compares to the anguish of knowing that my best friend is about to be executed.

Many rules at Kingmakers can be bent. Some can even be broken. The one irreversible decree is the Rule of Recompense.

An eye for an eye. Tooth for a tooth. Death for a death.

Ozzy has already been sentenced.

Tomorrow he dies.

“Take a look at that sunset,” Rocco hisses from his cell. “It’s your last one.”

Ozzy doesn’t reply. He stopped talking two days ago.

It’s me who responds.

“I will fucking kill you for this, Rocco. I will strip your flesh off, and stab your eyes out . . .”

I can’t finish my threat because my throat is too dry to speak. It ends in an impotent rasp.

Wade’s parents arrived this morning. I saw their ship come in, through the tiny window in my cell .

They haven’t taken his body home. They’re staying to witness the execution.

I would do anything, anything to save Ozzy.

I’ve tried to think of a way out of this. Day and night I racked my brains until I was delirious.

There’s nothing I can do.

As our cells grow dark once more, I whisper, “I’m sorry, Ozzy.”

I don’t expect him to answer.

But after a long pause, he says, “It’s not your fault, Miles. You stopped . . . I didn’t.”