Never Trust A Sprite

Never trust a sprite. It’s been said so many times in my village that it started going in one ear and out the other—exactly what I did. My father would box my ears if he were alive to see me now. That is, if I weren’t on my way to the gallows at the moment.

“Any regrets?” the guard escorting me asked, his tone light and easy. He would be going home to his wife and children after all this was done. Unlike my dumb ass.

“Never trust a sprite,” I said through gritted teeth.

The guard laughed, a deep belly laugh. “I could’ve told you that one!”

Somehow, I didn’t find the exchange quite so humorous.

The gallows loomed ahead. All I had were three steps to the platform before the rope would be placed around my neck and my heart judged against a feather. With how heavy my heart felt at the moment, I doubted I’d make it to paradise. Maybe I’d be banished back to this plane to live a new life over. Maybe next time, I’d heed the advice.

I drew a deep breath and climbed the steps. I don’t think I let it out until the bag was pulled over my head, my hands bound behind my back, and the noose secured.

“For the charge of conspiring against the kingdom, I sentence you to death.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and thought about her. I wanted to cling to my anger at her betrayal, but instead I remembered the moment of our first kiss.

The floor gave out from under me, and I braced for the tightening of the noose.

It never came.

The rope snapped under my weight, and I crashed onto the cart beneath the platform.

I groaned as a familiar voice filled my mind.

Hold on.

An invisible force shoved me flat as the cart took off like a shot.

She hadn’t abandoned me.