Their leader was next. He did not struggle when they opened his cage, and he walked bravely with his guards to the flames. It was seemingly the first time he'd noticed her, sitting so still between the two adults. He stared at her, not the fire or the bodies of his comrades or the heated swords being raised to his eyes.

With his head still turned toward her father, Dark began to speak. "I tell you that a dozen more will take my place, and a dozen more for each of them," he said as the fire touched his hands. "There will be no peace in this land until the heads of your children are mounted on pikes above your castle gates, until the walls of the castle itself are dismantled stone by stone, until…"

He fought the pain, valiantly it seemed to Ilsabet, then for all his pride, he began to scream.

This was just punishment for the rebels' crimes. Ilsabet listened to his screams, a vague smile of satisfaction on her face, and a current of excitement rolling through her frail body.

Beside her, Baron Janosk stood, his hand in a white-knuckled grip on his sword. "Never," he mumbled. "You will never harm them so long as I am alive."

"He speaks the empty words of the defeated, and rather poorly at that," Jorani commented.

"But the man still has power, that's for certain," Janosk said then called to his men. "Take out his tongue as well, and be done with it."

They pulled Dark away from the fire. There was no need to force the knife past his teeth for he was panting from the pain, and on the edge of shock as well. Ilsabet doubted he even felt that last crippling cut. If he did he gave no indication.