by LJ Rivers
I inhaled sharply, counted to five, and let out a slow breath. “My Lord, am I allowed to bring forward any witnesses?”
This seemed to catch him off guard. “That is your right, of course, although it is quite unusual. You see, as an accused, it would be in your interest to bring forward any and all who could verify your story. Thus, any witness you call before the court has to be accepted as one who can be trusted.” He seemed to have regained his composure. “So, disregarding your travel companions, who will have their own motivation for bearing false witness to prove your case, who is it you wish to call?” There was an inkling of amusement in his voice, one I thought he wanted me to hear.
“I—I have only my friends to call, Lord Sanctor, as they are the only ones who can—”
“So, no witnesses then?”
So much for watching Law & Order. I had to play my last, and hopefully most powerful card. It was also the most dangerous one, something the prison guard, Yven, had confirmed. But whether these people viewed me as a spy or someone not “right in their head” seemed to be of no consequence now.
“Captain Aranos spoke the truth when he told you about my fire power, and about me being a Sorceress. I was not aware that it was illegal to be a Sorceress on Avalon.”
“It is not,” said the Prime to Sanctor’s left, Diwella. “Being one, that is. Practising Sorcery without Her Majesty’s consent is another matter entirely.”
I bowed. “Then I beg the pardon of the court, as I didn’t know about this. Nor did I plan to use that half of my magical heritage.”
The people sitting closest to the Prime’s table started murmuring, and the sound multiplied across the room like I was caught in a beehive.
“Quiet,” said Prime Evelyne. The room went silent in a heartbeat. “What did you mean, prisoner?” Her voice was sharp as a razor’s edge, almost squeaky, further strengthening my suspicion of her feathered alter ego.
I straightened, forcing back the grunt of pain that wanted to escape me. My tears had stopped, but my T-shirt was soaked from sweat. Yet, what I was about to say, I wanted to say with the amount of pride it deserved, and that these people valued so highly.
“My full name is not Ruby the Red, which is more of a term of endearment from my Changeling friend. Back in the Land of Eternal Sand, I was born twenty years ago, to Elaine Morgana. I am Ruby Morgana, a descendant of the queen.”
Shouts and protests ensued, and I raised my voice to a shout.
“I have come through the portal on Crochan Island to warn the queen about the return of her enemy, Prince Auberon. And I will not—”
“Quiet!” shouted both Primes Diwella and Sanctor simultaneously. “Quiet!”
The noise reduced to a steady hum of voices, interspersed with the odd “liar” and “spy”, but I kept going.
“I will not rest until I have warned the queen. I beg of the court, of you, the queen’s Primes, to let me speak to her. I am a Fae of the Morgana bloodline as well as a Sorceress.” Whose bloodline I won’t divulge gladly.
This time, it took minutes before any Prime so much as raised a hand to silence the near rioting audience.
“That’s your death sentence, Northerner,” Commander Taryn whispered.
“Maybe,” I replied under my breath, “but unless I’m allowed to warn the queen, it will be the death sentence for most Avalonians, too. Carried out by the hand of Prince Auberon and his army.”
He didn’t reply, but I snuck a glance at him. His eyes flickered with confusion, or maybe it was doubt.
The Juniper guards tapped their spears three times on the floor and stepped forward. The crowd’s shouting and vile threats to my well-being reduced to the previous rumble.
“I will not repeat myself,” Lord Sanctor said. “One more outburst and I will have the room cleared, and none of you will witness our verdict on this … this …” He waved his hand dismissively at me. “This soon-to-be dead girl.”
There it was. My failure summed up in a six-word sentence, delivered as if the Goblin Prime had told his servant to take out the rubbish. I was about to have a close encounter with Captain Aranos’ blade. At least he had had some time to sharpen it, so hopefully, he would allow me a swift death.
If there was ever a time to start believing in spirits, essencebearings, and my grandmother Nimue’s realm beyond death, this was it. Much as I would have loved to, though, I still couldn’t make myself believe in those things.
“My lords and ladies,” I said, my voice so low I feared it might not even carry over the murmuring of the lynch-hungry mob. “If I am to die, it can’t hurt to let me speak to the queen, can it?” I held out my hands, still bound by the electric snake. It hissed at me, snapping its two split tongues in the air and flashing an extra jolt of electricity into my already numbed body. “Or at least relay my message to her. Auberon is here, on Avalon, and he’s—”
A knock cut me off. On the second seat from the left, an old man rose, tapping his cane on the edge of the table. He looked ancient beyond anyone I had ever seen. His hair, what few strands of it could be seen under the black hat, was white as the marble wall behind him. As he stood, his back hunched forward, and he leaned on his cane. The room fell silent in an instant. It turned so quiet that I could hear my pulse as my heart sent as much blood as it could muster to my injured shoulder.
The old man raised a trembling hand, which looked to be taken directly off a skeleton.
“Lord Pullhelli, eldest of the queen’s Primes, claims the word,” Lord Sanctor said. “My Lord?”
Pullhelli cleared his throat. “Thank you, old friend. I will say only two things. If the girl is lying, she is nothing but a spy.” He sounded like he looked—ancient. His voice was faint, distant, as if someone was talking in the flat below us in Craydon Court, yet carried with authority through the silenced courtroom. “She is simply a Sorceress who is trying to spread unrest in our peaceful community. We have no need for that as we continue the queen’s plan to rebuild our great land and our neighbouring realms.”
Murmurs of approval spread but quickly stopped as Lord Sanctor held his arm up. His elderly colleague continued.
“My second statement is that if what she says is true, however, the matter is of an entirely different nature.” He paused, taking long, hard breaths. His fellow Prime on the right offered him a cup, but the old man shook his head and extended his index finger in my direction. “If it is so, then you are a descendant of Morgana, but you are also an abomination, young lady.”
What else is new?
“However, and this is the crust of the mountain cake, that also means Avalon is, in fact, in danger. A danger far greater than a mere youngling having both Fae and Sorcerer blood in her.”
A couple of the other Primes nodded. The lady at the far right leaned in to whisper to the man beside her. He shrugged and shook his head as if to say he didn’t know.
I expected some kind of conclusion from Lord Pullhelli, but he simply sat down, in as much as he was able to perform any movement simply. Confused, and scared to death, I looked from the old man to the Goblin, and then at each Prime.
Finally, after an eternity, Lord Sanctor rose again. If the room had been quiet during Pullhelli’s apparently useless summation of the case against me, it was nothing compared to the graveyard vibe that ensued. Someone at the far back of the audience coughed, and it sounded like a gunshot. Even Taryn flinched.
“In the name of Morgana of Fay, Queen of Avalon and the Southern Isles, Protector of Talani, Awarnach, and Ygrenya, Subjugator of Auberon of Merlin, Defender of the Realm, I, Prime and Lord Sanctor of Avalen, son of Pleighdor, deem the prisoner, Ruby the Red, guilty of the charge against her.”
The crowd erupted in a unified cheer, but the sound faded as I collapsed to my knees. Somewhere in the distance, I could hear the words “to death” and “captor’s hands”. The words vanished in the haze of thoughts in my head. Thoughts of failure. I was scared. Scared of facing the sharpened blade of whatever weapo
n Aranos was whetting outside the walls of the courtroom, afraid of not seeing Charlie and Jen again, scared of losing Brendan and also of not seeing Kit. Even the thought of not seeing Erica and Jack scared me. But nothing scared me as much as the thought of having failed them all. What would happen to them now?
I knew the answer but didn’t want to even think the words.
“Please!” I cried out. “Let my friends go, at least. They have done nothing wrong. Send word to Queen Morgana and warn her!” My voice had no bearing over the bloodthirsty shouts of the crowd.
The noise died as if every person in the room was held captive at gunpoint. I knew why, of course, and didn’t even bother to look up. Lord Sanctor was probably standing with his hands out, quieting the crowd. Something inside me churned, trying to keep me on my knees, but I wouldn’t let him announce my penalty like this. Slowly, I rose on shaking feet. The pain in my shoulder made me grit my teeth, but I straightened, tilting my chin up to look into the Goblin’s eyes.
He was standing, as was everyone else in the room, even the beyond ancient Lord Pullhelli. I had covered three court cases interning for the Blacon Press in Chester and knew what it meant when everyone in the courtroom stood.
Sentencing.
“Bring her forth!” someone called out behind me. A voice I knew better than my own, and one I thought I would never hear again. There was even a hint of something in the air; a scent of honey wafted past my nose. I sniffed it, sensing the memories of Mum. It couldn’t be!
I turned, but my head didn’t make it all the way to see her before it snapped back, the pain from my shattered shoulder too severe to ignore. Slowly, I turned my whole body, careful not to move my neck.
The double doors at the back of the courtroom closed just as a shadow of a person disappeared.
“You heard the order, Commander Taryn,” Lord Sanctor snapped. “Bring the prisoner forth!”
My hope and dream, crazy as it had been, vanished as the Juniper guards tapped their spears three times on the floor.
“As the Prime commands.” Taryn inclined his head at the Primes, then leaned close to my ear. “Well, little spy. You seem to be under all kinds of protection today.” He yanked my chain, but not brutally hard this time. “We’re going to see Her Majesty, Queen Morgana.”
Chapter Twelve
The arched double doors, which were possibly twenty feet tall, were pushed open by a minotaur guard on either side—no doubt the muscle around here. I squinted at the spear of light slipping through the crack, then Taryn yanked me by the chain, less forcefully than he had in the courtroom.
My eyes widened as I stepped into a sea of brilliance. The throne room was lit with thousands of lanterns, illuminating every nook and cranny. Heavy golden drapes were drawn away from the arched windows, stretching from the floor almost to the ceiling, mirroring the immense doorway. It looked like a cathedral in its own right. I recalled a picture Jen had once shown me from the inside of Notre-Dame. Though that had been impressive, it was a mere pebble in the sand compared to this gem of a room. The word room didn’t quite do it justice.
I glanced at the domed roof before my eyes panned across the rest of the space, slowly adjusting to the brightness. It had been dark for so long, even taking into account the lit courtroom, that the glare stung my eyes. Juniper guards lined the wide aisle, which cut through magnificent golden pews, far more inviting than any I had seen in any church on Earth. The long aisle stretched before us as Taryn led the way to the other end of the space. An elevated platform rose at the end, upon which stood a throne.
Seated on the throne was a woman, a Fae—someone I had seen in my dreams. My mind, however, could have never conjured an image to justify her beauty. A furry creature lay curled in her lap, its front and hind paws stretched over the armrests. It looked kind of like a lynx, only bigger; its ears and whiskers were decidedly more considerable, and its fur was jet-black, dotted with silver. The tips of its ears were silver as well, and its long tail swept to the floor. Its face was more elongated than that of a lynx, and its cat-like eyes were like a pair of moons shining back at me.
Taryn gave me a tug, and I gritted my teeth at my still aching shoulder as we continued past the rows of Junipers. They stood alert and proud, barely glancing at me, though keeping an eye on me all the same. We came to a stop about five feet in front of the platform, and Taryn yanked my chain once more to bring me to my knees. I met the cold, hard floor, and winced. Arching my body in a bowing gesture, I raised my chin.
Light flooded from a ring of lanterns behind the throne, cascading past the Fae in front of me. The lynx-like creature slid from her lap and came to rest beside the throne as Morgana rose. Showered in waves of brightness, her slanted, clear blue gaze met mine. It was like looking into a wild ocean, speckled with drops of sunlight, thinly rimmed in black. My heart thundered in my chest, and every nerve in my body stood on end. Her straight nose reminded me of Mum’s, and so did her cheekbones, even though Morgana’s were inconceivably high set—a stunning, yet stern feature. Strawberry-blonde locks spilt in waves over her shoulders and all the way down to her hips. Neat braids looped around her head and interweaved with the rest of her hair. On the top of her silky strands sat a brilliant azurite-coloured stone crown. It wasn’t unlike the one Auberon had worn when he made his grand entrance during my mum’s Essencebearing, but Morgana’s was more refined and looked closer to a tiara than a crown. It was undoubtedly the latter, however. Tiny emeralds twinkled in the stone, reflecting the colour of her flowy dress. Thin lines of gold threads were carefully sewn into the fabric, creating a wild pattern of vines and petals.
I wanted to say something, but all I could do was stare—not at her anymore, but at the cage sitting atop one of several columns framing the platform. The crimson cloth was gone, and inside was Kit, still limp. My stomach twisted and I wanted to grab him and run but knew it was futile. Besides, my goal had to be to get Morgana to listen to what I had to say, so I turned my attention back to her. When Taryn inclined his head, I stayed on my knees, having learned my lesson in the courtroom. Yet my eyes never wavered from the queen’s.
She slanted her head, and her full lips thinned. “Commander Taryn,” she demanded. “My erudites told me of this creature in our possession. Why did you not bring this matter to me at once?” For a moment, I wasn’t sure if she meant Kit or me, but then she pointed a graceful finger at the cage.
“We did not wish to bother you with trifle matters, My Queen.”
“That is not trifle.” Her face hardened. “That is a creature from the Land of Eternal Sand. And according to Yven, of all Fae, the creature came with her.” She gestured at me.
Taryn squared his shoulders. “She claims she is from the Land of Eternal Sand herself, though that was not made clear before she was put on trial.”
Morgana sighed. “Rise, Don Hekal.”
I recoiled. She thought I was human.
“She says she is a Fae, Your Majesty,” Taryn said.
“And where are her wings?”
He shrugged. “The prisoner claims she is also a Sorceress.”
“How peculiar.” Morgana frowned.
I shifted awkwardly on my knees, trying to lessen the throb in my shoulder.
The queen’s lips twitched into the beginning of a sneer out of place on someone as gorgeous as she. “Commander. Remove the chain and those vile shackles from her wrists.”
“But, Your Majesty—”
Her eyebrows arched. “She is in pain, and I will not have an injured woman stand before me in this manner.”
Taryn made a sweeping bow. He clicked open the collar and let it clang to the floor. He proceeded to retrieve a goblet and a leather pouch from a nearby column serving as a table, then poured the tar-like liquid over the snake still coiled around my wrists. The blue sparks vanished, and the snake slithered off me and into the pouch, which Taryn then handed over to one of the Junipers. I rubbed my shoulder, testing it a little as I stared at the floor. The
liquid never fell to the marble, it had merely met the snake and evaporated.
Around me, the Junipers stirred just a hint, their gazes more noticeably on me this time. I stood and inclined my head. “Thank you.” Collecting myself, I quickly added, “Your Majesty.”
Morgana approached me, her feet never touching the ground, and for the first time, I noticed the sheer wings that held her suspended. Gold and silver weaved together, catching the light of the lanterns as she fluttered in front of me. Folding her wings, her bare toes touched the marble as she alighted. “Your shoulder.” She motioned to my injury.
I turned my body sideways, grimacing at the pain.
“Taryn is my best man,” Morgana said as her hand rose, “but in his haste to protect his queen, he sometimes forgets himself.”
Warmth seeped under my skin. Tingles reverberated down my arm, and white light, like the core of the sun, enveloped my shoulder. Morgana never placed her hand on me, but simply waved it a couple of times in a slow circle, then retreated to her throne. The light dimmed and faded away, and I tested my arm again, swinging it a couple of times. The pain had subsided, and it was as if I had never been hurt.
I was about to thank her again when something stirred behind us, and the unsteady rhythm of taps against marble drew closer. I dared a glance. The double arched doors slowly closed behind him, as Pullhelli carefully moved up the aisle, past Taryn and me, finally positioning himself by Kit’s cage. He wiggled one bony finger at my cat, then rested his hands on his cane.
Morgana gave him a curt nod, but nothing else was said between them, and she returned her attention to me.
“Now, I want you to tell me the truth. I do not tolerate lies, and if you so much as think to use your powers—whatever they may be—to escape this room, I’ll know, and I will stop you.”
“I appreciate your kindness, and I have no intention to deceive you.” I hurriedly added, “My Queen.”