Free The Pandora Curse (Greek Myth Series Book 4) by Elizabeth Rose Page B

treat you this way.
    She shook her head, wanting to ignore the voices, cursing herself for not leaving sooner before the Furies thought to occupy her head. The chanting continued, and another piece of rotten food hit her in the chest. Anger grew within her, and a heat started at her toes and continued upward until it filled her entire body.
    Kill their king and they’ll stop.
    Take their leader from them .
    Her eyes shot to the back of a cell where one man sat in a heap, head down, not chanting with the rest. It was their king. He looked ill.
    You must do it.
    You are a conqueror. If you don’t, you will be weak.
    Kill their king. Make an example, and they will stop their chanting .
    Vara’s head pounded, and she felt as if it were going to explode. She grabbed Zetes by the arm.
    “Get me their king. I will make an example. They will stop once they see how powerful I am.”
    “Yes, my lady,” he said with a nod. With the help of several other soldiers, they pulled the king from the cell. He wobbled, barely able to stand.
    Use your sword.
    Strike him down in front of his men .
    Listening to the ill advice, she pulled her sword from the scabbard on her back. She held it up, and beyond it she saw the eyes of the broken man, sick, and drained of any hope of ever coming out of this alive.
    “You are such a pitiful king,” she said placing the tip of the sword at his throat.
    He didn’t fight, didn’t flinch. He just stared at her with eyes that reminded her of his little daughter, Agatha. The vision scorched her memory, bringing about a time when she stared at her father’s killer that way.
    “Go ahead, my lady,” said Zetes. “We will hold him steady.”
    The prisoners shouted and cursed and threw their bodies against the bars of their cells. She pulled back her sword. The king’s focus never left her face. There was no honor in striking down a defenseless man, so weak and vulnerable. Only evil.
    Vara felt her hand tremble. Zetes grabbed her by the wrist and lowered it to her side to save her from the embarrassment of not being able to complete the task.
    “Perhaps we should take him into the courtyard instead where everyone can see him,” Zetes suggested.  “Have him whipped. Then bring him back here for his soldiers to see who is all powerful.”
    The shouts from the prisoners, and the beating on the bars continued. So did the voices in Vara’s head.
    You are powerful. You will show them.
    Make an example of their king.
    They will not talk against you again.
    “Yes,” she said, placing her sword back in the scabbard. “Take him out to the courtyard.”
    She blindly followed her men out into the bright sunshine, feeling as if she were in a daze. They tied ropes on each of the king’s arms and two of her men held them outward. Then another picked up a whip, looking to her for the final command.
    “My lady?” A little voice at her side kept her from giving the command. There stood Agatha in fresh clothes, her hair combed and her face washed. She looked up to Vara with sad eyes. “That’s my father.”
    “Agatha.” Vara’s attention wavered from the king to the little girl. What was she doing here? Horror filled Vara at the thought the little girl would witness such an event. Her eyes scanned the courtyard and there in the shadows stood Nikolai, watching. His eyes met hers, and suddenly she felt like she could no longer go through with this.
    “Are you going to hurt my father?” came the girl’s innocent question. “Did he do something bad?”
    Vara’s tongue felt weighted and there was no way she could answer this question. How could one tell a child of six that her father did nothing bad, yet he was about to be whipped?
    “Queen Vara,” came Zetes’ voice through the shouts of the crowd. “Shall we proceed?”
    Do it, Vara. You can’t stop now.
    To show weakness in front of so many would be a downfall.
    You need to maintain control. Do as is expected.
    Flashes of Vara’s childhood passed