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And I guess Maven was right He warned ether It seems he is a man of his word

"What day is it?" I ask, but neither responds They don’t even blink Their focus onwhat I ae, dull roar begins to grow I can’t place it, and don’t want to waste energy trying I’ After a few more minutes, the transport eases to a stop, and the rear door is wrenched open The roar is a crowd, an eager one For a terrifying second, I wonder if I’ sent back to the Bowl of Bones, to the arena where Maven tried to have me killed He must want to finish the job So me forward I almost fall out of the transport, but one of the Arven silencers catches me at the last erous, like the lightning girl of old No one cares about a weak prisoner No one jeers at a sniveling coward They want to see a conqueror brought lower, a living trophy For that is what I ae

I always do

My body quivers when I realize where I ae of Archeon Once, I watched it cruth is rebuilt And I must walk across it, my feet cut and bare, round, unable to look up I don’t want to see the faces of so many people, so many cameras I can’t let theive it to hiht it would be easy to be put on parade--after all, I’m used to it by now But this is so much worse than before The treiving way to dread Every eye crawls overfor the cracks in my famous face They find , and for a few seconds, I succeed Then I realize what s they hold up forI had a hand in all their fates They screa words more harmful than any object

By the tie and the crowded Caesar’s Square, the tears come too fast and hard to stop Everyone sees With every step, htens I reach for what I cannot have, for the ability that cannot save ht around athered on the steps of Whitefire Palace, eager to seeblack, this tinore,as she ray, the only color that suits him Jon Somehow, he stands with the rest of they I will never accept I should have never let hio I curse to myself

Once, he said I would rise alone Now I knoas lying For I have certainly fallen

The front of the platforood place for an execution, if Maven is so inclined He sits there, waiting, seated on a throne I don’t recognize

My jailers pullI wonder if he’ll murder me in front of everyone, and paint the steps of his palace with my blood I flinch as he stands We face each other as betrothed people would, stark and alone before a crowd of faces But this is not a wedding This rip His father’s sword? An executioner’s blade? I feel shivering cold as he clailded, sharp-edged, a beautiful thing of horrors My blurred tearsbut the black-ar my collarbone

There’s a chain attached to the collar A leash I ahtly in his fist, and I expect hi s sin I almost choke

"You put her body on display" His lips brush h clenched teeth Pain hums in his voice "I’ll do the sa is clear With one hand, he points at his feet His fingers are whiter than I remember

I do as he says

I kneel