the day of her death , this is what she had seen , this : akiva on his knees , sick with the weight of this same magic coursing off thiago 's soldiers , and he had struggled to hold his head up and look at her-just like this-with horror and despair and love-and she had wanted more than she had ever wanted anything to go to him and hold him , whisper to him that she loved him and was going to save him , but she could n't , not then , and she could n't now , not because of shackles or pinions or the executioner 's ax but because he was the enemy .