Chapter 816
Carissa found Chaya a truly remarkable young woman. Despite growing up in a harsh environment, Chaya focused on living each day to the fullest and avoiding compromise. She felt only disdain for her father.
Turning to Carissa, Chaya asked, "If no one claims his body after the execution, what happens to it? Will they display it?"
"If there are no family members for a proper burial, he'll receive a quick burial," Carissa replied. "They'll only display the body if he's the mastermind behind the treason."
Chaya hummed, her curiosity satisfied. Returning to Hayden, she said, "There's leftover pound cake at home. Let's eat it when we get back; it won't keep."
"Don't you want to watch?" Hayden asked.
"I'm afraid of blood," Chaya replied.
Hayden, indulging her as usual, said, "Alright, let's go. I'll take you to the lake tomorrow."
"Why the lake in this cold weather?" Chaya scoffed. "We could stay home, have coffee by the fire, and roast lamb. Isn't that better?"
"I wanted to clear your head," Hayden teased. "You're such an ungrateful girl." He sighed, turning to Rafael. "I've spent my life at the mercy of women, and here I am, still the same in my old age."
Rafael wanted to remind him they were at an execution, but seeing Hayden happy, he remained silent.
"I can relate," Rafael said. "I've been at the mercy of women my whole life, too."
Hayden patted his shoulder. "Alright, don't let me distract you. Go chop heads or whatever. I'm taking my little friend with me."
Rafael helplessly gestured toward the condemned man. "It's his head we're chopping off."
"Of course," Hayden chuckled, leading Chaya away.
As noon approached, the mournful tune for Henry's execution began. With the clang of Rafael's command emblem hitting the ground, the executioner raised his gleaming blade. The midday sun glinted off the steel, momentarily appearing blood-red due to the reflection of the executioner's red sash.
As the blade rose, fear overwhelmed Henry; he fainted. The executioner yanked the plank from under Henry's back and swung the blade. A sickening crack echoed as the blade severed his head halfway, leaving it hanging at an awkward angle.
Gasps and screams erupted from the crowd. Many covered their eyes. The first strike, while not fully decapitating him, jolted Henry awake. He felt disoriented, sensing no pain, only heat radiating from his neck and the feeling of something flowing out. A second swift chop severed his head completely.
Screams intensified. Some onlookers, overwhelmed by the brutality, fainted and were escorted away by the Capital Guard. Carissa turned away after the first strike, glancing back only when the head fell, signaling Michael to begin clearing the area.
The Kingsley family was absent. Michael sent someone to Grovehill Estate, but the doors were locked, indicating they had no intention of claiming the body. He ordered Henry's corpse cleaned and sent to the charity cemetery, to be buried in a common grave if unclaimed within three days—a mere formality. Everyone knew the Kingsley family wouldn't claim it.
That same day, Melanie Lester was laid to rest. Her funeral was simple. The Lester family hired workers to carry the coffin up the mountain to Pearwater Convent. Carmen wept as she planted a small pear tree sapling at the grave, though warned that winter planting rarely succeeded.
"I'll plant it now and again in spring," Carmen insisted. "My mother's tenacious spirit will help the sapling survive."