Zia went home with Arch Reems that night. For the first time in her life, she felt safe and cared for as she rode home with him on a horse loaned to him until the time of the execution, where they would be expected to be to watch Daxtor's hanging.

"How much further?" Zia asked, turning in the saddle to look at Arch.

Arch lifted his hand and pointed his finger towards a small, old house on a hill next to a field where weeds had invaded. "Not far," Arch answered. "It's not much. It gets a bit cold at nights, but it's better than sleeping outside."

Zia agreed fully as she remembered the night she had spent in the cold when she had run away. "It looks wonderful," Zia said. She couldn't wait to get... home. Seeing the house, it finally struck her that Arch had offered her something she had never had: a home. A place of love and laughter; a place where she could feel safe.

As the house drew nearer, the more Zia's excitement grew. It became nearly unbearable to wait to get there. It made Zia want to grab the reins from Arch and send the cantering horse into a full gallop. But somehow she was able to restrain herself.

When they finally did reach the small house, Zia's heart was thumping harder than the drums she imagined would be at Daxtor's execution. The beat pounded in her head as it got faster and faster and she thought it might consume her.

Arch brought the horse to a stop near a small stable and dismounted. Then he turned and reached for Zia and swung her down safely to the ground. Then he grabbed the reins of the palace horse and led him inside where he gently and carefully took off his saddle and filled an old bag with some oats for him to eat while Arch rubbed him down with a wiry brush.

"Can I help?" Zia asked as he was midway through the brushing.

Arch looked at her and smiled. "How would you like to go get him some water? There's a small creek just a few paces that way." He pointed out in front of him, and Zia nodded and ran out of the stable, grabbing an old wooden bucket by the door on her way out.

After the horse was watered, fed, and groomed 'til his coat gleamed, Zia and Arch finally went inside. As the door opened, Zia was afraid she might explode from excitement. She absolutely loved everything. She loved the dusty mantle that held a small box and a few other odds and ends. She loved the fireplace that roared with a warm fire. She loved the old, worn chairs and sofa in the living room. She loved the table in the kitchen with only three legs. She loved the stove and the cupboards and the squeaky stairs.

"Welcome home!"

Zia nearly jumped out of her skin. Ike jumped out from behind the sofa cheering and hollering welcome. There was another boy with him that Zia didn't know. He seemed to be the same age as her, but he was much taller. His light brown hair was shaggy and unkempt and he kept blowing it out of his eyes. His eyes were a murky green color, like a pond with way too much algae.

Ike ran up to Zia and wrapped his arms around her neck. "Welcome home!" he repeated

At first, Zia was surprised by his embrace. She had never experienced physical touch in such a tender, caring fashion. But once she realized that his gesture was one of kindness, she wrapped her own arms around his back and hugged him tight.

When the two children broke from their embrace, Ike quickly turned to the other boy and said, "Zia, this is my best friend in the whole world, Heath."

"Hullo," Heath said with a friendly smile.

Zia wasn't used to so much happy energy and she was beginning to feel overwhelmed. She also wasn't used to meeting strangers, and she certainly hadn't expected Heath to be there. She could feel the heat in her cheeks and she looked down and murmured a greeting that even she couldn't make out.

A look of confusion crossed Heath's face. Apparently this girl doesn't know much about a proper greeting, he thought.

Zia was feeling very uncomfortable, and a wash of relief swept over her when Arch cleared his throat and said, "I'm sure Zia's very tired. Why don't you go on upstairs, dear. Your room is the first door on the left. We'll let you get settled in."

"My- my room?" Zia would have been more than grateful to sleep on the sofa, but he was giving her a room all to herself?

Arch smiled kindly. "Of course. Go ahead. Dinner will be ready in an hour."

The morning of the execution finally came, and Arch woke Zia well before dawn so they wouldn't miss it. Ike, always a light sleeper Zia found, rose with them.

"Why can't I go?" Ike complained to his father as Zia ate a small meal of toast and fruit.

"Because you're too young, Ike," Arch told him.

"Zia's going! And she's a whole year younger than me!" Ike protested.

"I am not!" Zia said. "Only nine months!"

"That's enough," Arch said firmly, cutting off Ike's reply. "Ike, you're not going. That's final."

"But-"

Arch looked at his son sternly and Ike stopped his complaints and looked down to his lap. "Yes, sir."

Twenty minutes later Arch and Zia, riding on the palace horse, rode up to the front gate where they were met in the courtyard by Jay. He greeted them kindly and offered to take the horse back to the stables.

As Jay took the reins of the horse, Zia looked around. In the center of the courtyard, there was a large wooden structure with stairs leading up to a raised platform. At the edge of the platform, a large post struck up well over the height of a tall man, and held another post that went inward to hang right over the platform. From this post hung a thick, sturdy rope tied into a noose.

People from all around started to gather around the wooden structure, awaiting the victim to be hanged so they could get on with their lives.

Soon, a large crowd had gathered, and Zia and Arch wove their way around the people milling about to get to the front. The people stood in the entire courtyard, except for a small isle from the doors of the castle to the stairs.

Just as the first ray of sunlight was peeking over the tops of the courtyard walls, the King and Queen appeared on a terrace above the people, loud, triumphant trumpets blasting. The people cheered at the sight of the King and Queen, and Zia caught the Queen's eye as Fraya sent her an encouraging smile. The King raised his hand in greeting to the people gathered below him, and at his nod, the deep, bellowing sound of a drum began, matching Zia's racing heartbeat.

All heads turned down the aisle, and four Guards appeared, surrounding Daxtor Myrna. He looked awful. His hair was thinner than usual, and his teeth were yellow. His eyes were red and alert, glaring back and forth at the people around him. His skin had a yellow tint to it, and Zia wondered if it was caused by his alcohol withdrawal.

Daxtor's eyes found Zia's and he glared at her with such a burning hate in his eyes that Zia was almost sure she could see fire blazing in them.

Once Daxtor had been pushed roughly up the stairs to the platform, a large figure clad in black clothes came out of the same door the Guards had drug Daxtor through. The man had thick arms the size of tree trunks and a large piece of cloth covering his face, holes cut for his eyes. The executioner, Zia realized. She wondered why he covered his face, then she realized it was probably to protect himself. If he executed someone, their families might go after him for revenge. Zia didn't understand why he would need to hide his identity for this execution though. No one was going to miss the old drunk.

Zia watched as the man in black strode to the steps and climbed up. As he did, Zia noticed a few things she hadn't before. Now that she was closer, she could see a large square cut out of the platform right beneath the dangling rope, right where the guards had set Daxtor, and there was a wooden lever where the executioner stood beside the tall pole on the edge. He placed his hand on the lever and waited for the King to speak. When the executioner took his place, the drums stopped and all was still.

"What have I missed?" a voice whispered in Zia's ear. She turned to find Jay in his armor, looking up at the executioner.

"Nothing so far," Zia said back. "They just brought him out."

The King took a step forward on his elevated view and cleared his throat before saying, "People of Otar. This man, Daxtor Myrna, has been tried and found guilty of abuse to his daughter. According to our laws, he is to be hanged. Let this be a message to you all. So long as I reign I will not allow any harm to come to our posterity! They are our kingdom's future, and if we teach them bloodshed and violence, we are no better than the Skilaes, our sworn enemy from the dawn of our noble kingdom!"

After making his speech, the King gestured to the executioner to begin.

One Royal Guard clattered up the steps, his armor clanging as he went. He walked to Daxtor's side and fitted the noose under the man's third chin.

When the Guard clattered back down the steps, all eyes turned up towards the King and Queen, waiting for the signal.

The King raised his hand in the air, letting it hold there for a few moments. The executioner tensed like a hound does before the hunt.

Just then, the sun poked out from behind the courtyard walls, and the King raised his arm to protect his eyes from the glaring rays of the morning sun. A grumble went through the crowd as the sun blinded others, too. Even the executioner sought the protection of his large arm. Others who weren't facing the sun turned to see what was wrong, and were blinded themselves.

Zia held up her own arm, trying to shield her eyes from the golden light of the sun. She caught movement out of the corner of her eye on the platform, but she could not make out what was going on.

When the eyes of the people finally began to adjust to the blinding light, they all gasped in shock as they turned their attention back to the platform.

Daxtor Myrna was nowhere to be seen.