Chapter 2
The lead executioner marched over and stomped on the back of my hand, grinding it into the dirt without a second thought.
He towered over me, eyes dripping with contempt. "Where'd this crazy woman come from?
"This loser isn't even as good as a dog, and you want to take him home like he's gold?"
The crowd exploded with laughter.
The pain in the back of my hand was so sharp that it felt like my bones could snap any second.
But somehow, it was like I couldn't feel it at all.
With shaky hands, I fumbled inside my clothes and pulled out a hairpin.
This was my lifeline, what Winifred had given me to save myself.
The hairpin was solid gold, its head carved into a blooming rose, with a tiny ruby nestled right in the heart of the flower.
Under the gloomy sky, that flash of gold and red was so vivid that it stabbed at your eyes.
The executioner's eyes sparked with greed.
The sneer on his face vanished in a heartbeat, replaced by pure greed.
Gritting my teeth against the pain, I held the hairpin high above my head.
"Officer, please, I'm begging you. He's almost dead. Please, grant him to me." My voice trembled so much that every word was thick with tears.
The executioner moved his foot off my hand.
He snatched the gold hairpin from me and bit down on it to check if it was real. "Grant him to you?"
He snickered and spat on the ground. "Alright. This half-dead thing? Take it as my reward to you. Drag him away, and don't let him mess up the place."
He waved his hand, like he was shooing away a fly.
It felt like I'd been granted a second life. I threw myself at Benjamin's side, crawling and stumbling. "Mr. Carter, it's me, Sophie."
I tried to lift him, but he was limp and impossibly heavy in my arms.
It was as if every bone in his body had been shattered.
The crowd hadn't dispersed.
They stared at me with eager amusement, like they were watching some slapstick comedy unfold.
A woman carrying a basket of vegetables strode by and, without warning, flung a bunch of wilted cabbage leaves right at us, smacking us in the face. "The Carter family's lapdog, a couple of worthless scum."
The wilted cabbage leaves, smeared with mud, clung to both my face and Benjamin's.
I didn't bother wiping them away. I stretched out my arms, using my frail body to protect him, holding him tight.
The jeers, the insults, the garbage flew at us, but I couldn't hear or feel any of it anymore.
Right now, the only thing in my world was the barely breathing man in my arms.
Just then, the crisp sound of horse hooves rang out in the distance, getting closer and closer.
The crowd automatically parted.
A towering, jet-black horse stopped right in front of us.
On its back was a man clad in gleaming silver armor, sitting tall, sharp, and handsome.
It was Richard Lane.
Once, he was Benjamin's second-in-command, the friend Benjamin trusted most.
When the Carter family fell, he was the first to step forward and accuse the General of colluding with the enemy and betraying the country.
Now, he'd taken General's place, basking in all the glory.
He reined in his horse and looked down at us.
His gaze was cold and dismissive, like he was watching two insignificant ants struggling in the mud.
"Hey, look who it is, Mr. Carter?" His voice was dripping with fake surprise and amusement. "Why are you such a mess?"
Benjamin kept his eyes shut tight, his body trembling. Whether from pain or rage, it was impossible to tell.
Richard's gaze landed on me. "Well, Sophie? I remember you. You were Mr. Carter's handmaid.
"So, now that Mr. Carter's lost everything, you're still sticking by him, huh? That's some loyalty."
I bit down hard on my lip, not daring to look at him or say a word.
I was afraid that if I opened my mouth, I wouldn't be able to stop myself from cussing him out.
Richard smirked. He flicked the reins, and the horse stepped forward.
The horse's hoof landed right on Benjamin's exposed hand, dead on target.
I heard a sharp, sickening crack. It was the sickening crack of bone breaking.
Benjamin let out a muffled groan, his whole body jerking in agony.
A rush of fury shot straight to my head.
"No." I threw myself forward, trying to push the horse's hoof away.
But Richard was quicker. He jerked his foot back before I could reach it.
He looked down at Benjamin's twisted hand, his smirk growing even more self-satisfied. "Mr. Carter, back when you taught me how to fight, you always said my wrists were too weak.
"So, what do you think of my control over the horse now?"
Benjamin's jaw clenched so tight that his teeth nearly cracked, veins bulging on his forehead, but he couldn't force out a single word.
It was nothing but humiliation.
This was worse than dying.
I stood in the mud, turned to Richard, and bowed my head against the ground. "General Lane, please, have mercy. Please, let Mr. Carter go.
"He's nothing now. Please, let him have a chance to live."
Richard bent down, pinched my chin, and forced me to look up at him.
His face was lit up with a cruel delight. "A way out?"
Then, without warning, he spat a thick glob of phlegm right in my face.
The sticky, foul-smelling spit slid down my cheek.
"You? A filthy maid like you thinks you can make demands of me? Get lost." With that, he spun his horse around and rode off without another word.
The crowd gradually scattered.
Once the spectacle was over, they walked away with smug satisfaction, heading back to their homes.
Only Benjamin and I remained, sprawled out on the wrecked execution ground.
Rain began to fall from the sky.
The icy rain splattered against my face, mixing with my tears and that humiliating spit.
I wiped my face with my sleeve.