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makemyself stand tall, refusing to let anyone see just how deeply my nerves run.
    I can’t think of Ferrick, somewhere in this crowd with a ring I’m to receive the moment this performance is over.
    I can’t think of Kaven, trying to start a rebellion within my kingdom. Or of Kerost, broken and suffering from the storms.
    And I refuse to think of Aunt Kalea, who will be Visidia’s demise should I fail tonight.
    But I won’t let that happen.
    I unhook the satchel from my hip and ready the teeth and bones that wait within.

CHAPTER FOUR
    I’ve spent weeks preparing the contents in my satchel, ensuring every tooth and small bone is ready to be wound with a hair from the prisoner I’m to work my magic on.
    Because while this may be a demonstration of magic, it’s also an execution.
    I hear the rattle of chains before I see the prisoners they belong to. Ten of them—seven men and three women—and all branded on the neck with two bold X s, the mark of someone tried and convicted for murder. Tonight, some of their brands are fake.
    The guards drag them through the crowd of onlookers and to the base of the stone slab I’m perched upon. Then the guards back away, leaving the prisoners standing below me with fear and rage warring in their eyes.
    My magic works in two ways—the ethereal soul reading, and the physical ability to end a soul through death. Theseprisoners are here to test the first side of my magic; I’m to determine whom I’m to execute by finding the irredeemable soul among the group.
    Never in my life has an execution been public. Father and I perform them annually, late at night and deep within the underground prison, taking only the souls of Visidia’s most unforgivable prisoners to satisfy and quell our magic. For a person to have been selected for this demonstration, their soul would have to be beyond redemption.
    The first in line is an older woman whose dark eyes catch mine sharply. I find my magic waiting in my belly and pull small pieces from it, waking the beast. Its warmth licks my skin, inviting me deeper into it by connecting me to this woman’s soul.
    Magic spreads welcome heat through my veins and across my temples, and I sink into the power, relishing it. My vision fogs before quickly sharpening to reveal an entire garden of souls before me. They’re the colors of clouds—some like a threatening storm and others the clearest day—and they dance with the wispy motions of smoke. I press my nails into my palms for focus, and home in on the soul of the woman before me.
    It’s like a dead starfish—faded, graying, rough, but ultimately still something that was once beautiful. She’s older, and with her age there’s been pain and hardships, enough to muddle and crack her soul.
    This woman’s a fake. Someone only here to test me.
    I step past her and move to the next prisoner, assessing his misty soul. It’s clouded by greed and wrath, and stained with the signs of murder. But he has remorse for the wrongs he’s committed. He feels his guilt, which means he’s not the one.
    Swiftly but carefully moving through the line, magic scorches my core as I search soul after soul.
    I know he’s the one the moment I find him. On the surface his gaze is cool, but the deeper I dig, the more rotted his soul becomes. It’s jagged and purpled like a bruise, peeling away at the edges and on its way to fading entirely. The wickedness of it chills me to the bone.
    This man’s soul shows the tarnish of someone who has committed the foulest crimes imaginable, worse even than murder. Empty white space shines bright behind the peeling edges, telling me that there’s no going back for him. He holds no remorse for his choices, nor any sympathy for his victims.
    “Him.”
    Two guards step forward to lift the man onto the stone slab, while the other prisoners are pulled back. A few of them sigh in relief.
    Beneath my lashes I peek up at Father. He nods, just barely, and I relax in knowing I’ve already