“Murdered?” I ask, confused. “I don’t even know how she died, let alone have anything to do with it! I did nothing wrong, and I demand to be heard.”
Ravenoak squares himself. “I am here to relay a message. Tonight, you will stand trial before the Council.”
Chapter Six
I WIPE THE tears from my face and push the tray of cold food to the side, wrinkling my nose at the untouched bowl of sloshing, milky gray porridge. Some last meal.
My mind spins with the multiple ways I might die: beheading, slow torture, firing squad, ripped apart by a blast of blue magic. At least the last one is memorable.
A click sounds, and I snap my head toward the cell’s door.
Tristan.
Or maybe he’s the grim reaper. But he looks a lot like a tall, attractive guy with dark brown hair. Not so much the dark angel vibe.
“Here to escort me to my death sentence?”
“Not if we can help it. The other Guard will be here in a moment, but Thea wanted you to be aware of a few things before you meet the Council.”
I scoff. “I’m sure this will be very helpful for my cause.”
He crosses his arms over his chest, the silk fabric pulling tight over his large biceps. “I don’t have much time, so you need to listen.”
I gesture around the cell. “I have no place else to go.”
Tristan’s lips press into a thin line. “I’ll start with the bad news. Lady Albright is the Council leader—”
My heart sinks with his words. “Then I’m doomed.”
Tristan ignores me and continues. “But there are five additional members. Two of them, Lady Jacquelyn and Lord Terrowin, side with her on everything. But Lord Fairden, Lady Muriel, and Lady Rose tend to speak their minds. If you can properly plead your case, you may have a chance, or at least buy yourself more time. Lord Fairden generally doesn’t make any decisions without thoroughly studying the evidence.”
“How many will have to vote against Lady Albright for me to keep my life?”
He glances away. “Three.”
I open my mouth to tell him that I’m doomed again, but he steps in quickly, and I snap my lips shut.
“I believe you can do it, Arabella. Lord Fairden, Lady Muriel, and Lady Rose will ask you fair questions. They will not try to trick you. Answer the queries honestly, and I believe they will see your pure heart and that of the true Queen.”
“What will happen to the Queen’s Essence if I die and the marking isn’t passed on?”
“Then the Transfer will be lost, and a new Queen will be crowned,” he says.
“Princess Thea?”
“No. If the Essence is dissipated, a new lineage must be created. The Talisman will not pass a new marking to Thea or any of her direct heirs.”
My chest tightens. “Is the successor named?”
Tristan exhales loudly and doesn’t answer.
“It’s Lady Albright, isn’t it?”
“She is one of the potential Vessels.”
I pause for a moment to consider his words. “You know I’m doomed, right?”
Before Tristan gets the chance to answer, a second Guard dressed in blue and black appears outside my cell and clears his throat.
“Sir,” the Guard says, “it’s time to escort the prisoner.”
“Thank you, Leif.” Tristan produces a pair of metal cuffs from his pocket and holds them toward me. “Sorry, but I must follow protocol.”
The bowl of mush tips over as I stand, spilling its gray contents over the tray. “Not that I’ll be coming back to eat that anyway.” I present my hands to Tristan.
“Hopefully that’s because you’ll be living upstairs.” Tristan fastens the cuffs around my wrists and takes my arm.
Leif, who’s still outside the cell, pushes the door open and Tristan pilots me out.
The two escorts flank me as we emerge from below the castle and stride down various grand corridors until we reach a pair of golden double doors. The woodwork is beautifully carved in intricate patterns, and in the center of each panel is an “L” scribed in calligraphy.
“Wait here.” Tristan hands me off to Leif and disappears inside.
I’m met with a stone-faced Leif, but he only clutches at my arm and pays me no further heed. Expecting no sympathy from him, I glance down at my dress, now stained and ruined. From the side, I can see a clump of my tangled hair hanging limply over my shoulder. Most likely I have dirt all over my face, too. I’m sure the disparity, when compared to the surrounding cleanliness, only serves to make me appear even worse.
The door cracks open, and Tristan appears again. “They’re ready for you.”
My heart picks up speed with his words. What if I’m not ready?
My feet feel as if they weigh about a thousand pounds. Still, my escorts pull me into the room. Above us, the ceiling must be as high as three stories, and the detail mimics the golden woodwork chiseled on the entrance. Ten Guards line the sides of the room, five on each side. They each hold staffs. At the head of the line on my left is Captain Ravenoak. His jaw is locked and squared, and he’s focused straight ahead.
Before me, lined up in a row on a dais, are seven large white-leather chairs with elaborate gold trim. What must be the Council occupy six of these seats. Lady Albright, now dressed in a black gown, paired with a black hat decorated with feathers, is perched directly in the center. Her eyes are trained on the marking on my upper arm.
Tristan leans in close to my ear. “Lord Fairden, Lady Jacquelyn, and Lady Muriel are to Albright’s left. Lord Terrowin and Lady Rose are on the right.”
Who am I supposed to convince again? Lady Jacquelyn or Rose? My breath picks up as I study the members. Lord Fairden appears to be a kindly man with dark skin and dark hair that’s peppered with gray, but his eyes are a deep and unusual green hue. He acknowledges me with a curt nod.
Tristan and Leif guide me to a single wooden chair positioned in front of the Council, below their dais. I plop into it, my hands still cuffed in front of me.
“Please rise,” Ravenoak’s booms through the room.
Princess Thea enters the room, nearly floating. The Council stands, and I scramble to my feet. Princess Thea’s blonde hair is pulled tightly back, and she’s still wearing black, but a new gown. This full-length dress is form fitting, and she wears a velvet cape around her shoulders. A black veil, affixed to her hair, covers her eyes, just touching the bottom of her nose. Thea’s lips are painted a pale pink and, in her hand, she clutches a handkerchief.
We all watch as she climbs the stairs of the platform and takes the last empty seat.
When the Princess sits, the rest of the Council does as well. Thea dips her head in greeting toward Albright. She returns a less than genuine smile.
Slowly, I lower myself to my seat.
“Welcome everyone,” Albright says, panning from side to side. “This commission was called over the unprecedented tragedy that has befallen the Queendom. Gathering like this is unfortunate, and saddens me. Yet we have a duty to the former Queen. Her legacy will not end like this.” Her eyes move to me, and if daggers could shoot from her pupils, they probably would.
I peer up at Tristan and he subtly nods. He’s the closest thing to a friend I have in this cold, unfamiliar place. Shifting back to the platform, I find Thea’s eyes locked onto me before she quickly turns her gaze away.
Albright clears her throat and continues. “This commission will have three parts. First, we will convey the known facts surrounding the death of the Queen. Next, we will question the Accused. Then, lastly, we will summon material witnesses to establish the Accused’s character and possible motives. Once this is completed, the Council will come to a decision on the Accused’s fate.”
A token-sized lump forms in my throat.
Albright raises a hand and gestures to Lady Jacquelyn.
Lady Jacquelyn’s straight, pure white hair falls to her shoulders, narrowing her facial features. Her deep brown eyes forms slits as she scr
utinizes me. She shifts to the edge of the regal throne. “On the 35th day of the 254th year after the Breech, our Queen was poisoned by the Sarrow Root administered in her morning tea. As no official successor was named, Queen Isolde’s Essence Transferred to Arabella of the House of Garin. Without a sanctioned acknowledgement of the Queen’s next Essence Vessel, the decision of the Queendom’s future lies in the hands of the Council of Lore. We will now open up questions to the Accused.”
The Queen was poisoned? My mind races, trying to absorb the new information the Council has thrown at me.
“Stand, Arabella of the House of Garin,” Lady Jacquelyn says.
My stomach does a flop as I force myself up on shaking legs.
Lady Jacquelyn pinches her lips together while she leers at me in disgust. “Present the symbol.”
I turn slightly to allow the Council view of the tattoo.
“We all agree that this peasant bares the marking of the Queendom?” she asks.
Each on the Council agrees, and Lady Jacquelyn returns her attention to me. “You will keep your answers focused on facts and not emotional discourse.” She gestures for me to sit.
I nearly melt into my seat. But I am emotional. They are going to make me an example no matter what I say. I can’t do this.
A heavy-set woman with red wavy hair raises her chubby fingers to grab my attention. Her dark emerald corset is so tight her ample chest nearly spills over the edge. “Hello, dear. I am Lady Rose, and I’ll begin the round of questioning.”
A chill settles in my center.
Lady Rose smiles softly. “Do you know what Sarrow Root is and where it is found?”
As the words leave her mouth, I recall the memory of when my father scolded Neil and me for digging up some while on a scavenging run. We were just kids, and mistook the dense, potato-like root for the wild edible, Hopniss. Papa nearly knocked Neil to the ground to prevent him from taking a bite. He would have died in minutes from the mutated plant.
“Yes, I know what Sarrow Root is, and that the herb grows near the border,” I say.
“And do you know that the plant is most prevalent near the outskirts beyond the town of Arlos?” Rose asks.
“So what? Anyone can travel there and harvest it!”
“Relax, young lady,” Albright insists. “We are doing our due diligence here. Just answer the questions and refrain from any outbursts.”
With my hands restrained, I push up using my toes and straighten in my chair. I take a deep breath, holding the air in for a bit before slowing exhaling. Lady Rose’s bright blue eyes wait for me as I return my attention the Council. “Yes, I am aware. That root grows everywhere near my town.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Lord Fairden clutching something inside his closed fist. A soft amber hue pulses out slightly.
“What is in your hand?” I ask.
Lady Albright leans forward and scowls. “We do the asking here.”
“It’s alright, Albright,” Fairden says. His dark eyes relay a sense of ease. “She has the right to know.”
Albright rolls her eyes and sits back. “Fine.”
“My dear, this is a Truth Stone.” He extends his open hand to me, exposing a small, dark-red gem. “Just as the name implies, the stone can determine if you are telling the truth or not. It’s not perfect, but it can read your body’s internal reactions to our questioning.”
Magic. I hate it. Nothing about the wizardry makes sense, and only those in power control it.
Fairden lowers his hand and conceals the stone once more. He gestures for Lady Rose to continue.
“One last question from me,” Rose says in my direction. “How did your father die?”
My breath hitches at her question. It feels wrong for these people to pry into my personal life like this.
I pause and carefully dig out the right words. “He died of Breech sickness while trying to provide enough for his family.”
Lady Albright raises her hand to Lady Rose. “Let me take it from here.”
Lady Rose tips her head in agreement.
Albright continues. “Your father held resentment for the Royal authority for how we rule our land. He constantly pushed past our mandated scavenging borders. This resentment spilled over to you. This all leads to a clear motive.”
“That’s not true,” I snarl in reply. “Everyone from the Relic class feels like this to some degree. I am not a murderer. I didn’t steal the Queen’s Essence. I. DO. NOT. WANT. TO. BE. QUEEN!”
Tristan and Leif step closer to me, as if I’m going to break from my restraints and charge the Council. The Lords and Ladies bend their heads together, and the murmuring sound of their private discussion irritates me further as I await the next question.
Lord Terrowin, the only other man on the Council, hammers his fist down against the arm of his chair, effectively grabbing the attention of the room. He stands and stretches his arms out to settle the room. He’s tall, with dark circles around his eyes. His completely white hair complements his wrinkled, pale skin. I figure he’s the oldest member of the Council.
“I would like to hear from those close to the accused,” Terrowin says. “There is more to be learned by asking those who are not accused. I recommend we cease questioning the girl until after we’ve spoken to the intended witnesses.”
“Witnesses? Who?” I ask, swinging my attention to Tristan.
His eyes widen. He doesn’t know who they’re talking about either.
The back doors open and in come two Guards, escorting Mama and Asher. My heart nearly leaps from my chest.
Mama’s shoulders are slumped, most likely with exhaustion and worry, but at least she doesn’t appear hurt.
“Mama!”
She catches my gaze as I try to stand, but Leif’s strong hand pushes on my shoulder, forcing my body back down.
“The Accused will be silent,” Albright orders.
Asher pulls his arm free from the Guard. “I’ve come here willingly, and I’ve been accused of nothing.” His eyebrows push together and he clenches his jaw.
“He’s correct,” Fairden says to the Guards. “Please treat our citizens with more care.”
Asher sneers at his escort, but the Guard doesn’t retaliate in any way.
“Please, Asher of the House of Caine and Mary from the House of Garin, approach the Council,” Fairden says.
I keep my eyes trained on them as Asher and Mama step forward. Once their Guards fall back, Asher rushes to Mama and places his hand on her shoulder, protecting her. As always. He turns his attention to me and mouths, “I love you.”
I attempt a trembling smile as they pass my chair. Mama momentarily glances my way and then back to the Council. The two Guards take their place behind Asher and Mama, close enough so if either cause problems, they can be subdued quickly.
“Mary of the House of Garin, step forward,” Terrowin says.
Asher drops his hand from her shoulder, and Mama takes two tiny steps forward. She raises her chin to Terrowin, and my stomach tenses when her lip quivers.
Terrowin opens his mouth to speak, but Lady Albright rises and quiets him with her hand. Everyone’s eyes are on her as she walks down the stairs to Mama. Albright stops about a foot in front of her. Mama bows her head, and her hands shake at her side.
“Mary . . . of the House of Garin,” Albright says. “You run a salvage shop near the town square, correct?”
“Yes, My Lady.” Mama maintains her focus onto the marble floor.
Albright circles her like a vulture. “And after your husband passed away, you managed this shop with the help of your son and daughter?”
“Yes, My Lady.”
She stops in front of Mama again. “But your son, Neil, received a Transfer Essence two years ago, and you haven’t seen or heard much of him since.”
Mama lifts her head, but avoids Albright’s eyes. “I’m very proud of both of my children.”
“But Neil abandoned you. He has only provided you with a small
amount of his remuneration, and it’s left your family in . . . difficulty.”
Mama opens her mouth, but Albright cuts her off.
“Your daughter, Arabella, is jealous, and sees how Neil has more than you will ever have. She found the Sarrow Root and snuck into the castle. She worked with someone to poison the Queen and stole her Essence. This is the only explanation.”
I clench my jaw, dying to scream at the horrible woman.
Asher lunges forward, and his Guard catches him. “What are you talking about?” he shouts. “This is all lies!”
“No!” Mama yells. “Why would she do that? Arabella is happy in Arlos. We don’t have much, but we love each other—”
“Silence.” Albright waves her hand in Mama’s face. “Get these peasants out of here.”
My breath shortens and the room spins. I didn’t commit murder!
“I have the right to speak, too!” Asher yells as the Guard drags him from the room.
Mama’s knees buckle. Her escort snatches her arm and yanks her back onto her feet.
“Why are you treating us like this?” I scream. “We’ve done nothing!”
The doors slam shut behind me, and I twist toward the sound. Mama and Asher are gone.
My heart pounds so hard it’s as if it’s trying to escape my rib cage.
Albright turns, and her gown flicks behind her. She marches up the steps of the dais and back to her seat. “I will not allow this girl to make a mockery of our government. We will call this to a vote, immediately. All those in favor of death, raise your right hand and say aye.”
Most of the Council sit with wide-eyed shock on their faces. No one moves.
“But Lady Albright…” Fairden says, “…the Truth Stone.”
“We are all aware that the Truth Stone is inconsistent. I don’t know why you insisted on using it today.” She glares at Fairden. “All those in favor of death, raise your right hand and say aye,” Albright repeats with more force in her voice, raising her right hand.
Lady Jacquelyn and Lord Terrowin slowly raise their right hands and say, “Aye.”
Crown of Lore (Betrayal of Magic Book 1) Page 5