Ed grinned, laying on his side as she rolled to face him, enjoying the glow of her skin in the morning light, the curves of her body, that smile on her lovely face. Gods, what a woman she was. "[I]Indeed.[/i]" He caressed her cheek, his thumb trailing down to brush against her lip before he leaned towards her to kiss her, unable to resist. So much of her was difficult to resist. "[I]Sadly, I would need to go back to work.[/i]" He gave her a cheeky grin. "[I]Do you have time to stay here a little longer? I may need to properly wake up before I attend to business, [/i]" he said, his hand gently brushing her arm. 

'A little longer' turned out to be longer than he had thought. He was lying on his back again, panting, definitely awake after that pleasurable romp. Gods, he really didn't want to leave the bed. After catching his breath, Ed pushed himself up to sit and stretch. "[I]i better get back before they start running around camp like headless chickens,[/i]" he said with a sigh. "[I]I hope to see you during the celebrations in a few days, [/i]" he said, smiling fondly at her. He got off the bed reluctantly to gather his clothes, kissing her one more time afterward.

The rest of the week ran much the same: cleanup and repairs were made as much as possible, with other nobles sending more workers to help with the task. Jan had arrived, with more of Lord Ulrich’s men to help with the effort. Jan threw herself at work, though Kire knew her long enough to see she was using work to hide whatever she was feeling about her return to the Capital. She guessed rightly, as, alone in the Tower with Jan later that night, Jan embraced her tight and finally wept tears of joy. “Though, now that I have a fiancé, my days of living in the Capital are numbered, anyway,” Jan remarked. Kire only smiled at that and shrugged. The days sped along thus, while at the back of her mind, Kire worried about Ruli.

But as the celebration day drew near, Kire had yet to talk to Gael. She had decided that the day of execution will happen before the celebration, and outside the walls of the Capital. She would not deign to have his and the traitor lords’ blood spilled within the Capital. The lords would be beheaded, but for Gael she hadn’t yet considered a fitting way to end his life. In her worst moments, she considered asking where the Kartaians lived, have Gael struck blind and dumb and toss him into the murderous elves’ den, but she’d rather not invite trouble by involving them. 
The night before execution day, she finally approached his cell. She wished she derived pleasure in seeing him debased like this, but she only felt empty, her anger spent. Or so she thought. 

“I trusted you, once, a long time ago.” she began. 
Gael looked up from staring at his chains. “And I, you. A poor decision to make.”
“When have I betrayed you?” she said. “We were supposed to work towards uniting our families, until you turned around and ravaged the Capital, mutilated my citizens, had my cousin killed. Tell me when, exactly, had I warranted that response from you?” 
Silence hung between them. Kire realized she had clenched her fists, her Ring faintly glowing as if ready to give her the strength to bludgeon him then and there. Gael only looked away, chained hands clasped together. “You didn’t hesitate to blame all of us for Ikegai. Including me. You never trusted me beyond seeing me as a tool for a united empire.” He glanced at her briefly. “Do you remember Stonehollow?”
“Remember? Do you think that was a trifling matter to me? Do you think I don’t think about what happened there, what I had done?” 
“Then you have your answer.” He bowed his head. “You have your wish now. Reunited the empire, and nearly eradicated my blood from the face of the earth. I wish you all the happiness in the world, Empress.”

The execution happened early the next day. The captured lords who had been condemned to death during the war council were beheaded one after the other, though as a gesture of mercy, she had agreed that the surviving members of their houses would receive their remains. But as Gael was led out, away from the execution platform, it became clear that he was not to receive the same fate. “No drop of your traitorous blood should spill upon the earth,” a herald read out Kire’s words. “The warlord sires of the Wyvern clan had, long ago, vanquished armies with dragon fire. Today, that is how you will perish.” Gael said nothing, though his eyes showed his fear. He had already prepared to die, but to be burned at the stake was going to make his death slow and tortuous. As he was tied to the stake, he bared his teeth in a wry grin at Kire, who stood on the ramparts of the Capital walls, looking down at him. 
She raised her hand, and the fire was lighted. 

The day of the celebration finally came. Early the next day, Narda, Myka, and Daryll stepped through the world gate. Myka was wearing the same red coat and ridiculous hat she had sported during the war council. Narda, for once, wasn’t wearing her battle-ready armor, but a more decorative cuirass and more lavish clothes underneath. Daryll was wearing a simpler version of the lord’s attire he had worn before. The scholar gaped around him at the caves, then noticed the wards around the gate. “So which way’s the beach?” Myka asked Narda. 
“Later,” the giantess promised, grinning, looking forward to seeing Envy.