Ruby Morgan Box Set: Books 6-10

by LJ Rivers

  The juniper guard straightened his back. “You remembered?”

  Barch placed a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Your father fought hard, Intor. I personally watched him send five Sorcerers to the Nethers himself. That is something I will never forget. How is your mother?”

  Intor swallowed. The flaming torch behind me was reflected in the tear fighting to stay in the corner of his eye. “She has all she needs, thank you. The queen herself visited only a fortnight after the final battle.”

  “Sounds like her,” Barch said quietly before nodding at the door. “How long until it’s our turn, you think?”

  Intor gathered himself, only to take on a puzzled expression. “They work quickly, as usual. But what is not usual is seeing a Crimson back here.”

  Barch wiggled his eyebrows and gave Intor a brief smile. The fatherless Juniper guard took the hint and turned to his colleague by the door. “Valet Uggin! Tenant Barch is next in line.”

  “Of course, Valet Intor. Please, Tenant Barch, approach.”

  “My gratitude, Valet Intor,” Barch said. “I shall remember this, too.”

  Barch pulled at my chain, and I followed him past the line. The Juniper-clad guards holding the other prisoners bowed to Barch as we passed, as did Valet Uggin when we stopped in front of the doors.

  “It’s an honour, Tenant Barch.”

  “Just keep your eyes and ears open, Uggin, and Nimue will reward you and yours for keeping our queen safe.”

  The power of the Crimson cloak was apparent, and now I too wondered why such a prominent soldier had been handed what clearly was a second-rate job of taking a prisoner to court.

  Three knocks came from the other side, and young Uggin grabbed the handle. His hand was shaking, but he managed to swing the heavy, wooden door open. Valet Intor joined Uggin in an even deeper bow as Barch led me in.

  The hallway had been lit with torches. Now, however, I had to squint at the stinging brightness of the room. It took me a few seconds to adjust, and I stumbled as I wasn’t sure where to put my feet. When my eyes adjusted to the shine, I found there was no reason to worry. The floor was immaculate, and I almost felt bad for dragging dust and dirt from the street onto the white marble. Lines of blue, green, and gold were interspersed with the white in mesmerising patterns. The floor must have been at least fifty feet wide and twice that deep. Along the walls, giant pillars—also marble, as far as I could tell—reached twenty feet up to the ceiling. I could have stood for hours just looking at the magnificent ceiling mural, which would easily have given the Sistine Chapel a run for its money, but I was more concerned with the other people in the room.

  The courtroom.

  Parallel to the sidewalls were three rows of wooden benches—all occupied by serious-looking men and, to my surprise, women. Somehow, I had expected women to be kept away from official matters like trials and such, this being the equivalent to the dark or medieval times. As Barch dragged me through the room, they sneered and hissed at me, almost every last one of them. I couldn’t read any of their auras, but for some of them, I didn’t have to. A man, about fifty, could just as easily have sat there in his lion form. His face was square, his jawline sturdy, and his dark, bushy hair and beard painted a perfect mane around his head. I didn’t look long at any one of the spectators, or whatever they were, for fear of provoking more physical reactions from them.

  Barch stopped, yanking my chain again. “Kneel, prisoner,” he commanded.

  I did, feeling the cold marble on my right knee, where there was a hole in my jeans.

  “My lords and ladies of the Prime,” Barch bellowed, his voice booming off the walls. “In the name of Queen Morgana, I, Tenant Barch of Her Majesty’s Crimsons, bring forth a prisoner for the Holy Primes to cast judgement upon.”

  It took a while, maybe ten seconds, before anyone spoke. Half of that time, Barch’s voice still echoed off the marble. I didn’t dare lift my eyes yet, figuring I would soon enough be told what to do or when to speak.

  “Tenant Barch,” said another male voice. This man, however, didn’t speak loudly. Still, his voice carried all the authority of my captor, and then some. “In the name of Queen Morgana, I, Commander Taryn of Her Majesty’s Crimsons, relieve you of the prisoner. Anything that befalls her from this moment on is on my shoulders, not yours.”

  With heavy footsteps, the commander stepped over to Barch, his sandal-clad feet stopping inches in front of the Centaur’s hoofs.

  “Tell Yven his gift has been put to good use,” he whispered.

  “I will, Commander Taryn,” replied Barch.

  The chain rattled as Barch handed it over to this Taryn bloke.

  “Go with the Lady Nimue’s protection, Tenant Barch.”

  “Commander, Lords and Ladies of the Prime.” Barch turned on the spot and trotted back to the door we had entered moments earlier.

  My new keeper jerked my chain. “On your feet, prisoner, and state your name to the queen’s Primes.”

  I stood, and raised my chin to face my fate. It presented itself in the form of seven people behind a table, a massive, gold-coloured cloth covering it from one end to the other. The table stood on a raised platform of heavy, almost black wood. It reminded me of the wood in my father’s cane, and something told me it might be the same. A sense of pride, perhaps more than surprise, permeated through me as I noticed three of the judges were women, although it probably didn’t amount to any advantage on my part. All seven gave me stern glares. They were equally clad in black robes with diagonal white and gold ribbons across the front. The men wore black, square hats, five inches tall, with the familiar M in gold thread on the front. The women’s hats were huge, triangular-shaped and crimson, matching the cloak of the commander next to me. They too had the Morgana initial embroidered, only far more ornamented and stylish than the discreete version on their male counterparts’ hats. To each side of the long table stood a Juniper guard, both with a spear by their side.

  I cleared my throat. “Lords and ladies of the Prime,” I began, hoping the words of the two guardsmen were the right ones for me, too. “My name is Ruby.” I wanted to wait with the Morgana part, as I had no idea what effect it would have on these people.

  The man in the centre, whose magical kinship I could not discern, rose. He placed his hands on the table and leaned forward. “Ruby, you say? Usually, I’m able to tell whence a prisoner comes by their attire, but yours is unknown to me. What is your origin?”

  Right, here we go.

  “I come from the Land of Eternal Sand, or so I’ve learned you call it here.”

  Gasps and murmurs spread among the spectators.

  The man held up his crooked hand, and only now did I notice his height. Or lack of it. His robes had hidden his short arms and torso, but it was clear he was standing on a stool of sorts behind the table. “So, you are Don Hekal, then? That is not what we were informed.”

  “I am not, good sire.” I bowed, as it seemed appropriate for my next question. “Might I ask your name, so I can know who I am addressing?”

  This earned another few gasps and some hisses, as well as a yank on my chain from the commander. “No questions, prisoner,” he warned.

  “Now, now, Commander Taryn,” said the Goblin. “Young Ruby asks a fair question and shall receive an answer. After all, we,” he motioned to his colleagues on his left, then his right, “are about to cast judgement on her life.”

  I drew in a sharp breath, trying to conceal the fear that had crept into my bones. I had known that a trial would most likely be about killing me or not, but it didn’t diminish the dread of having to hear it said aloud with such detachment.

  “My name is Lord Sanctor, Master of Queen Morgana’s Primes and Judges. It is my duty to find you guilty or not guilty to keep the queen’s peace safe.”

  I bowed again. “I would say it was nice to meet you, Lord Sanctor, but we both know—”

  “Silence!” Commander Taryn shouted and slapped me on the chin.


  Toppling to the side, I awaited the hard impact of the marble floor, but it never came. Instead, Taryn pulled my chain so hard my breath caught. I thought I was going to choke, or at least snap my neck, but all it did was leave me heaving for air. Coughing and gagging, I steadied myself, determined to stay on my feet. The room slowly stopped spinning, and the tribunal of magical judges came somewhat into focus again.

  “This time, I will have to agree with the Crimson commander,” Sanctor said. “A trial before the queen’s Primes is no place for a speech. You will answer my questions, or those of my fellow Primes, and speak no words unless you are told otherwise. Is that clear, Ruby of the Land of Eternal Sand?”

  “Y—yes,” I croaked.

  The Goblin sat again, knitting his crooked fingers on his chest. “Prime Evelyne, would you be so kind as to inform the prisoner of her charges and the potential outcome?”

  The woman on his far right rose and stared at me, disgust and discontent written in her almond-shaped eyes. She was tall, maybe six foot five, slender, and there was an aura—not the one I could read—of elegance to her. Her gaze travelled to the commander next to me, and for a split second, I could have sworn I saw her blush. Her eyes looked similar to the commander’s, burning bright orange and slightly slanted upwards on the outer edges. I glanced at Taryn, whose nose had the same dip at the front, almost like a beak. Although his features were more rugged, there was little doubt he and the female Prime were of the same kin, maybe some kind of bird Shifters. The woman regained her composure and turned her eagle eyes to the crowd.

  “Ruby, of unknown origins, is said to be a spy for our enemies of the north. Should she be found guilty of the charge, she will be sentenced to die by the hand of her captor, Aranos, Captain of the Royal Crimson Guard, Centaurian division. If the prisoner is found innocent, she will be taken to the port of Avalen, where she will be Ashored. In the name of Queen Morgana, this is what today’s trial will decide.”

  Ashored? What the heck did that mean? I didn’t dare ask.

  “Thank you, Prime Evelyne,” said the Goblin, Sanctor. “I will start the questioning.”

  My heart rate was surprisingly controlled, given what I faced. I had yet to reveal anything to these people, but would gladly do so if it could convince them to give the queen my message about Auberon’s return.

  “Bring in the first witness.” Lord Sanctor gestured at one of the Juniper guards.

  The guard tapped his spear three times, the hollow wood resounding through the hall. A side door opened, and the Centaur who had arrested me outside the Avalen city walls stepped through, lowering his head to avoid head-butting the frame. He moved in front of Taryn and me, bowing to the Primes.

  “State your name and business in this matter,” Sanctor said.

  “I am Aranos, captain of the Crimson guard, Centaurian division, the Fury of Mount Avalen, Destroyer of Kahalenya, Her Majesty’s loyal servant.” He spoke with a low voice, but it still carried all the reverence and authority as Taryn’s, and, I suspected, most other Crimson guards.

  “Aranos, the queen’s Primes thank you for your commitment to keeping Avalon safe. Tell us about your accusation against Ruby, standing behind you.”

  Aranos turned, boring his golden eyes into mine. His nose wrinkled as if I stank of cow dung, which probably wasn’t far from the truth. He faced the Goblin again. “Two days ago, my squad and I were on patrol. I found this one,” he nodded back at me, “and her companions, just as they were sneaking through the Fether Pass.”

  I opened my mouth to protest but managed to stop the words before they passed my lips. A slight tug on my chain told me Taryn had noticed.

  Sanctor placed his hands in front of him, forming a pyramid. “Go on, Captain.”

  “When questioned, the prisoner proposed to be a Fae.”

  That wasn’t true. He had said I smelled like one.

  “She brought a creature with her, claiming it was a—” Aranos turned to me again. “What did you call it?”

  I leaned to the side, looking past Aranos.

  Lord Sanctor nodded. “You may reply.”

  “A cat,” I said. “It is of the same animal family as lions, tigers, and lynxes, only smaller and less deadly.”

  Aranos’ lips pressed together in a hard line before he addressed the court again. “My lords and ladies, when you see this cat, you will understand why I could not take the prisoner’s word.” He nodded at the Juniper guard, who again tapped his spear to the floor.

  The side door opened, and a young boy came in, carrying a cage. It was covered with a crimson cloth, the golden M shining from each corner. The boy placed the cage next to Aranos, then shuffled backwards until he reached the door, closing it as he exited.

  Aranos bent and grabbed one of the corners of the cloth. “This is supposed to be akin to our feline Changelings, honoured Primes of the queen.” With a dramatic motion, he unveiled the silver bars that held Kit captive.

  I gasped. Kit lay on his side, motionless. I took a step forward, only to be yanked back by Taryn. “What have you done to him?” I shouted. “If he’s dead, I swear by the Lady I will—”

  This time, Taryn didn’t stop my fall after slapping me. I landed hard on my shoulder, and the sickening sound of breaking bones echoed in my head as I slid four feet along the hard marble floor. “Please,” I wheezed. “Don’t hurt him!”

  A hand grabbed my unbroken arm and picked me up as if I were a toddler, placing me back on my feet. Commander Taryn didn’t let go until he was sure my wobbly feet could carry me, something I wasn’t sure of in the least. Tears fell on the floor, and as I came to my senses, I could hear the laughter from the room.

  “—dangerous than a trout, my lords,” Aranos finished. “I do believe, however, that this cat, being both fast and agile, is a spy, conspiring with the prisoner. The queen’s erudites have examined it, putting it to sleep for the time being, but none have seen such a creature before.”

  “And the Don Hekals and Changelings?” Lord Sanctor asked.

  “Enjoying the queen’s hospitality,” Aranos said with a chuckle, one that spread through the already well-entertained crowd. He waited for silence before proceeding. “As this self-proclaimed Fae has no wings, I suspected she was lying. Then she produced a flame from her hand, which confirmed it all.”

  Sanctor nodded and scratched his chin with one of his long, crooked nails. The sound made me cringe. “So, she’s a Sorceress, is that what you’re saying, Captain?”

  “I am, Honoured Prime. She travelled with a creature of unknown origins and two Don Hekals.”

  “I can see why a Crimson was ordered to bring such a high-risk prisoner to the Prime court, then. Interesting. Thank you for your testimony, Captain Aranos. While we pass our judgement, you will wait outside, ready to perform your duty, should the verdict tell you so.”

  “My lords and ladies of the queen’s Prime, I put my prisoner in your hands, knowing your wisdom will see what is right. Meanwhile, the stone will caress the edge of my blade.” As he said the last words, the Centaur glanced over his shoulder at me.

  If not for the excruciating pain in my right shoulder, I might have felt the chill running down my spine.

  Aranos bowed and left for the side door, taking the sleeping, caged Kit with him.

  “So, Ruby. Or perhaps I should use your full name?” Lord Sanctor gave a lopsided smile. “Ruby the Red, Master of Light, Daughter of Elaine, Protector of Don Hekals, companion of Gwyn Tala’s children, was that about right, Captain Aranos?”

  The Centaur stopped in the doorway. “To the last word, Honoured Prime.” His laughter was cut short by the door slamming shut behind him.

  “Protector of Don Hekals,” Sanctor mused, licking his lips as if tasting every word. “Friend of Gwyn Tala’s children.” He stared at the ceiling. “Thousands of dark moons ago, Gwyn Tala roamed the forests of Talani. As I look upon you, Ruby the Red, I see no more than twenty harvests, maybe two more or less. It interests me, as I’
m sure it does my fellow Primes, how you can be all these things at your young age.”

  “And Master of Light, not to forget,” said the woman to his left.

  The laughter spread through the hall. “She’s a spy. Kill her!” a man shouted, which prompted a choir of similar chants, all demanding me dead in various ways. Lord Sanctor sat back, smiling and waiting. After a while, he raised his hand slowly, silencing the voices.

  “Good citizens of Avalen, please keep your calm as we perform the serious matter of questioning this—what did you call her, Prime Diwella?” He leaned towards the woman on his left. She, in turn, whispered something to the Prime on her other side, revealing the outline of wings poking out from the back of her robe.

  Diwella, the Fae, turned back to the Goblin. “Master of Light, Prime Sanctor.”

  “Indeed. Master of Light. Tell me, Ruby the Red, how did you come to earn all these names and titles?”

  Finally, a question.

  “Honoured lords and ladies of the Prime. I do not claim to be the Master of Light, as I haven’t earned or learned how to master such a power. I am, however, a companion of Gwyn Tala’s children, in as much as I share lodging with a Changeling, the Alpha of her pack. Whether I am a protector of Don Hekals is another matter, but I guess I have both protected and been protected by them on several occasions.”

  “Are you saying Captain Aranos is a liar?”

  Audible gasps erupted among the crowd.

  “Might I remind you, Ruby the Red, that such accusations to one of the queen’s Crimsons are akin to treason?”

  I had to weigh my words carefully. “My Lord Sanctor, I would never accuse such a noble soldier as Captain Aranos of speaking anything but the truth.” Although he had just lied to the Primes’ faces. “My Don Hekal friend, Charlie, did call me all these things, and in her eyes, I suppose I have earned them. Captain Aranos repeated her words correctly. All I’m saying—”

  The Goblin rose again, making a grand gesture with his arms. “Ah, then it is your companion who bears the lie. And you, by virtue of being the protector of Don Hekals, are responsible for her deceit. How would you say the charges against you look now, Ruby the Red?”