Cry Me a River |✔️

Chapter 49- A Slip of a Tongue

"The violence and injustice of the rulers of mankind is an ancient evil, for which, I am afraid, the nature of human affairs can scarce admit a remedy."

                     ~Adam Smith

Chapter 49

River's POV

My ears rang, throat grew dry as her voice eventually turned to a muted gasp. Her eyes glazed over before falling to the ground in a resounding thump. I jumped in Alastair's lap, leaning forward while my breath thickened.

A couple people ran to her aid, wrapping her in the light shawls off their backs as she laid unconscious against an older woman's chest. The woman eyes shone in torment, brushing the girl's sweat-sticking hair from her face.

The crowd seemed to hold their breaths, watching the scene unfold before their eyes. Newly of age children watched through widened eyes, some turning away while others merely watched like that of a young child at a circus.

Those older didn't seem as dumb-stricken but merely peered at the girl through eyes of pity. Not that of remorse or sorrow for the poor man who had just been killed before them but of pity for the girl for having been associated with him.

My eyes roamed the crowd, soaking in all the expressions of those around me. Their expressions left me shocked and utterly confused. How could one watch such a scene and feel nothing of it? It seemed only the young ones truly felt the same unnerving shiver that ran down my spine.

How could they not find this frightful?

A man was just killed for nothing more than performing a ritual long done in the past. Were they truly so deluded into thinking this was normal? That this was okay?

It was not.

My eyes returned to that of the dead man dangling above the stage. I couldn't help the strained sob that escaped my throat as I cupped my mouth.

The poor man.

My eyes then went to the passed out girl by the stage, face almost as pale as the corpse of her love. And it was then that my eyes landed on that of the elderly woman. Though what I hadn't expected were for her dark, glassed-over eyes to be on mine as well. I froze, breath caught as I remained frozen in place beneath her narrowed eyes. It was then her mouth opened, my eyes widened as her voice filled the tense air.

"For how long will this continue?" Her scratchy, high-pitched voice demanded, "How long will you continue to restrain us, to kill us, until you are satisfied?"

A warm, hair-prickling breathe swept across the back my neck as Alastair's arms tightened around me. A low growl escaped his throat as the crowd held their breath along with me.

"And to who do you think you are," His Highness barked from beside Alastair, "that you can refer to your prince in such a manner?"

Prince?

And it was then, in the middle of two opposing forces that I realized that the eyes in which I thought were directed at me were really at the face behind me, Alastair.

Not me.

I wasn't sure if I should feel relieved or more unnerved that it was directed at my mate.

"Will the prince continue this slaughtering once he becomes king?" The elderly woman continued, unafraid of His Highness' deadly glare on her brittle form.

My head pivoted towards Alastair, turning slightly in his lap to see his reaction. His eyes pulled from the older woman just as I turned, looking down at me with a questioning glance, head turn to the side.