Her Graceful War Song (Carissa Sinclair)

Carissa found Chaya to be a truly remarkable young woman. She had grown up in such a harsh environment, yet her focus was solely on living each day to the fullest and not compromising herself when she could avoid it.

As for her dad, Chaya felt neither love nor hatred–just disdain.

Chaya turned to Carissa and asked, “If no one is there to collect his body after the execution, where will it end up? Will they hang it up for all to see?”

“If there are no family members to give him a proper burial, he’ll be given a quick burial. They’ll only display his body for all to see if he’s the mastermind behind the treason case,” Carissa replied.

Chaya hummed in response, her curiosity satisfied.

She returned to Hayden and remarked, “There are still some leftover pound cakes at home. Let’s eat those when we get back. They won’t taste good if they sit out for too long.”

“You don’t want to watch anymore?” Hayden asked.

“I’m afraid of blood. It’s better if I don’t see it,” Chaya replied.

Hayden still indulged her as usual and said, “Alright, let’s go. I’ll take you to the lake tomorrow.”

“Why would we go to the lake in this cold weather?” Chaya scoffed. “We could stay home, enjoy some coffee by the fire, and roast a few pieces of lamb. Isn’t that better?”

“I wanted to take you out to clear your mind. You’re such an ungrateful girl,” Hayden teased. Then, he turned to Rafael and sighed. “I’ve spent my whole life at the mercy of women, and here I am, still the same in my old age.”

Rafael wanted to remind him that they were at an execution ground and that the mood shouldn’t be so lighthearted. But seeing Hayden genuinely happy, he chose not to dampen his spirits.

“I can relate. I’ve been at the mercy of women my whole life too,” said Rafael.

Hayden patted his shoulder. “Alright, don’t let me distract you from your duties. Go chop off heads or whatever. I’ll be taking my little friend with me.”

Rafael helplessly pointed at the man on the execution ground. “It’s his head that we’re chopping off.”

“Of course.” Hayden chuckled as he led Chaya away.

As noon approached, the mournful tune for Henry’s fate began to play. With the clang of Rafael’s command emblem hitting the ground, the executioner lifted his gleaming blade.

The midday sun glinted off the steel. For a moment, it appeared almost to have absorbed blood as it shimmered a vivid red. But upon closer inspection, it was just the red sash around the executioner’s waist reflecting a flash of crimson.

At the moment the blade was raised, fear exploded within Henry’s chest. His mind blanked out and he fainted.

The executioner yanked the plank from Henry’s back and swiftly swung the blade down. There was a

sickening crack as the blade severed his head halfway, leaving it hanging at an awkward angle.

Gasps and screams erupted from the crowd as blood gushed out, and many covered their eyes in horror.

The first strike hadn’t fully decapitated him, but it jolted Henry back to consciousness. He felt disoriented, unable to process the sensations–there was no pain, just a heat radiating from his neck and the feeling of something flowing out.

Then, his head rolled away with another swift chop.

The screams intensified and the onlookers recoiled. Watching an execution was thrilling for some, but many couldn’t handle the brutality and fainted. Those people were quickly escorted away by the Capital Guard.

Carissa turned away after the first strike, only glancing back when the head fell, signaling to Michael to begin clearing the area.

The Kingsley family members had not made an appearance throughout the ordeal.

Michael dispatched someone to Grovehill Estate, but the doors were locked tight and no one came to open up. It was clear they had no intention of claiming the body.

He ordered Henry’s corpse to be cleaned up and sent to the charity cemetery. If no one claimed it within three days, it would be buried in a common grave.

This was merely a formality. Everyone knew the Kingsley family wouldn’t show up to claim the body. Today was also the day Melanie Lester was laid to rest.

The funeral was simple. The Lester family hired workers to carry the coffin up the mountain, where it was buried at Pearwater Convent for Melanie to rest eternally.

Carmen wept as she planted a small pear tree sapling at the grave, but someone warned her that planting in winter rarely yielded success. It would be better to wait until spring.

“I’ll plant it now and again when spring comes. I believe my mom’s tenacious spirit and resolve will surely allow the sapling to survive the winter,” Carmen insisted.