The guards took my father and I to different cells in the dungeon. I could neither see nor hear him in the gloom. But I knew that he would be standing in his chains, sneering at the world. He though no one could touch him. It wasn’t long before I heard someone coming up the corridor. Not the clank of the guard’s boots, but the soft steps of well made, expensive boots. The lawyer. He passed by me without a glance, but stopped at a cell far away from mine. “Kayna,” he said quietly. “You’ve really stepped in it this time”
My father’s voice was harsh. “But your job is to get me out of it. It’s not like I don’t keep up my end of our bargin”
“Indeed, you have yet to tell my murderous father-in-law about that incident with the secretary, but I am still unable to do anything for you”
“I thought you were the best”
“I am. The mayor has the ear of the magistrate. And from what I have discovered, the magistrate has already passed sentence on you and your son”
“I don’t care about him, Charles. Just get me out of here, or I swear by all that’s holy that I’ll make sure he hears every word of what happened between you and that girl. And he’ll get the garter, too”
There was a tense silence. “There is not a thing that I can do. I’m sorry, Kayna. But it looks like your fate has been sealed. Good day.” With that, the lawyer left, never to return.

I lost count of the days that I spent in that dank cell. Stale bread and dank tinny water was provided for me, but not enough to sate my appetite. I could see neither the sun nor the moon. Days transformed into years and hours became seconds. All too soon, guards came. They seem almost sad as they remove the shackles around my ankles, but any pity that they had would not allow them to free me. They lead me out into the sun atop a platform. On another platform was my father. His hands were tethered behind his back and his hair, normally tied back, was hanging limp and lank in his face. He did not look at the crowd that had gathered around the base of both platforms, but instead lifted his chin high with a regal air. A man with a ugly white powdered wig read from a sheet of parchment paper. I never caught all of it, but in essence it said that both my father and I had been accused of trespassing, theft, and loitering with malicious intent. Such crimes were punishable by death. A tall, heavy man dressed in a skin-tight black shirt and stained grey trousers came close to my father. His face was concealed by a black hood and in his hands he held a gigantic axe. A nervous young priest, thin and sallow as candle wax stepped close to my father, stuttering out words in Latin and holding something small in his hand. My father spat at the priest and swore at him, using words that would be enough to make a sailor blush. The startled priest stepped back, had a few words with the axe man, and then walked across the bridge linking the two platforms.
The priest came over to me and made the sign of the cross. He held a small wafer to me. I was unsure of what to do with it, since my father had never once taken me into a church in my entire life. One of the guards gently tapped on one of my back legs. “You’re supposed to open your mouth,” he hissed. I opened my mouth and allowed the priest to place the wafer on my tongue. He began speaking in Latin, stuttering through what was assumably the Catholic Last Rites. Once he was done, he dabbed some oil onto my forehead. “May God speed you to your rest and take you to His Bosom,” he said quietly. He left the platform and disappeared into the mass of people. I stared over at my father. They stretched his neck over a block stained with blood. The man who had read the sentence came over to me. He proclaimed to the crowd: “This youth has a chance of pardon, for he was only an accomplice. All that he need to is deny the foul creature who waits for the executioner’s axe.” I didn’t know what to say or do. He narrowed his eyes at me and said, “You can save yourself. You only need to say that you denounce the centaur and his ways. Then you will be set free.” I was horrified. For centaurs, family ties are very important. I was being asked to disown my father before he was killed. I lifted my chin and said as clearly as I could, “I disown him and all his deeds.” I watched the man from the corner of my eye. He was prompting me, so I repeated after him. “From this day forth, I avow that I have no knowledge of him. He is and forever will be a stranger to me”
I could see my father’s face contort with rage as I said those words. He was angry beyond words that I had disowned him, that I would not stand up and proclaim that blood ties were what I would choose to cling to, and join him in death. He didn’t have long to be angry. As he glared at me, the executioner brought down his axe and my father’s head tumbled from the neck. He was dead and I was all alone. The guards unchained my wrists and shoved me, making me leave the platform. I was emotionally numb. I didn’t know whether to laugh for joy that I would no longer be beaten at his hands or whether to cry because I had no one in the world. I simply kept walking. The crowd, who hooted with mirth at the sight of death parted to allow me passage. They watched me intently. While I had been given full pardon, the people believed that I was still just as guilty as my father. They wanted me to join him as a headless body up on that platform. A warning to all who would think of stealing. I kept walking until I arrived back at the only home I had ever known. I looked at the trinkets I had gathered over the years, but none of them gave me comfort. The town no longer trusted me. I knew I had to leave. I looked around, but there was no food in the house at all. I left the house, allowing the door to swing wide open. I dragged myself up Chantry Street, the smallest, dirtiest road that lead out of the town. But it was the least inhabited. I didn’t want to see more people, to feel their judgmental gazes beating down on me. I was going out into the woods, where no one would ever find me.