Page 28 of The Ember and the Emerald

He slammed the blade into the chain that fettered his opponent to the arena.

The clang reverberated like a death knell.

Gasps of shock quickly turned into cries of protest. Fear thickened the air.

Gerald shot to his feet. I wasn’t far behind.

Jasher didn’t care. Biceps flexing, he struck again. The chain groaned but didn’t give.

“Archers!” Gerald bellowed. The bowmen lining the perimeter rose from the shadows, lifting their weapons, arrows nocked and drawn.

“No, no, no,” I muttered, then shouted, “Jasher, stop!”

He froze, axe raised mid-air.

“As you can see,” I said to Gerald, voice breaking, “he obeys me. Tell your men to stand down, and I’ll make him kill it.” Unless there was another way. Surely I could think of something.

Think, think.

But no ideas sprouted.

Gerald’s gaze flicked between Jasher and me, calculating, distrustful. After a long beat, he nodded stiffly. “Hold for my command.”

The archers eased their grips but didn’t release Jasher from their sightlines.

I fought a rise of panic. Think!

The monstra nudged Jasher with its snout, confused, restless, and clearly expecting to work together to escape. My executioner didn’t move, still bound by my words.

Tears welled, blurring my vision. I’d come here to end the reign of the monstra. This shouldn’t matter.

But it did.

There wasn’t another way. It was the beast or Jasher.

He was going to hate me more for it.

If I could just whisk down there. Explain what I was about to do. Apologize. Fall into his arms and sob.

Guilt and shame seared my throat as I quietly called, “Kill it.”

Jasher’s jaw locked. The veins in his neck bulged. His eyes glittered. His muscles trembled as he fought the command.

Fought me.

Gerald stiffened, as if gearing to give another order.

Anguish tore through me. How could I do this to him?

“Kill it,” I repeated, louder. Harder.

Still he fought.

The monstra roared so ferociously, I would swear the sound toppled mountains all the way back in Kansas. Then it turned its burning gaze on me.

Pawed the sand once. Twice.

It knew who to blame, and it planned to help its brother.