Ambrose suppressed a shiver as the temperature in the room dropped enough for her to see her breath and rattle her bones, but she held still. She wanted to look away. Wanted to crawl through that crack in the city wall and never come back. But that option was long gone. She cursed herself for ever missing the opportunity to escape. But if this was to be her fate, decided at the hands of those who tormented her her whole life, she wouldn’t give them any satisfaction in it. She raised her chin high, bit her cheek so her teeth wouldn’t shake, and met his challenge.
Casimir seemed to enjoy this as he continued his speech with a snaking smile. “Servant Ambrose of Eltoria, you have been brought to the crown to stand trial for the crimes you have committed against the empire. Approximately two hours before high moon, you engaged in an altercation with an Imperial Guard by the name of Mr. Fiven Thornehart. Thisaltercation led to the same Mr. Thornehart’s death. Do you deny the claims made against you?”
“No, but—” What could she possibly say?
“And in this altercation was there anyone else involved or were you and Mr. Thornehart alone?” he continued as though she hadn’t spoken.
“Alone, but—” But what?
“So do you confirm or deny that you are the one who murdered Mr. Thornehart?” Casimir pulled a hand through his hair, light golden strands perfectly untangled. Avidly enjoying the entertainment in front of him.
Ambrose shoved the rage that bubbled inside of her down into her belly and replied, “Confirm.”
Chapter 8
“MURDERER!”
“Execute her!”
“Justice for the gods and Almuria!”
Infuriated shouts from nobles called for her death, naming her a killer from every corner of the Grand Hall. Self-defense didn’t matter in this court.
Ambrose could care less about the nobles who gorged themselves daily and would forget about this as soon as it was no longer thrilling. She cared far more about the foreign monarch who hadn’t broken eye contact with her in all this time.
“Enough,” Casimir ordered, the word slicing through the crowd like shards of ice.
No one dared make another sound.
Even King Tallis couldn’t tear himself away from Casimir. Watching his every move the way a predator would evaluate something far stronger in its den. The silence from him was deafening.
Casimir waited patiently until he was sure all eyes were back on him, grinning from ear to ear.
Someone loves a good performance,Ambrose thought, analyzing whatever she could from the being. No weaknesses. Not a single crack in his composure to be seen. All she saw was something she would never want to meet on the other end of a fight.
“Finally, do you confirm or deny entering a sacred space and stealing from the gods?” Casimir asked with a flare in his eye.
Stole from the gods? That garden belonged to the gods? Why was it all the way in Eltoria and not in their home kingdom? She fell back, mouth falling open slightly as she called into her mind, “How did you get me intomoretrouble than I was already in?”
But wherever they were, the voice was long gone.
“I… I didn’t know,” she said stunned.
“Ahhhhhhh,” Casimir purred. “So you don’t deny it?” His expression turned fierce.
Magnus, standing ten paces behind her in the crowd, let out a small sob. The flicker of the firelights cast shadows on all their faces, distorting them as the crowd murmured and peered down at them from their wooden pews. A tense current hung in the chilly air as the king’s flags along the chamber grew frost on their frayed ends, the crackling of ice snapped through the room.
Her heart broke for the people who would be left after today. Her brother, ever devoted to the kingdom and to order. How would he mourn her? If he were here, he would tell her she should’ve listened. That she could’ve saved herself had she only done her duty. Would he hate her? Thinking for the rest of his life that she’d needlessly gotten herself killed? Magnus, who devoted his entire life to training and guiding her, always so patient and enthusiastic when she accomplished a challenge. Pushing her to grow her magick every day. Ernaline… Her sister, though they shared no blood. Who would look after her when Ambrose wasn’t there to keep an eye on her? Ms. Asquith, who’d become too accustomed to burying servants in her charge. But still managed to love each one as though she’d never known the loss. How she always tried to guide Ambrose but knew she could never make her choices for her. Would she shed a tear? Or did she not have any left to cry?
“I didn’t know! I never would’ve stolen from the gods, I swear, it was a mistake.” She hoped Casimir believed her words. Stealing from the gods was suicide.
“You all bore witness to these confessions today.” Casimir lifted his face so he faced the crowd. “You all heard, with your own ears her crimes…”
Ambrose’s heart punched a lump into her throat. There had to be something she could do, something she could say. This couldn’t be the end. How was this taking control of her own fate? She was completely and utterly powerless at the hands of beings who violently wanted her dead.
“Such crimes cannot go unpunished,” Casimir continued. “Servant Ambrose of Eltoria is a Common Mage who has failed to master an Element for the empire, and thus has forfeit any protection being a mage grants her.” Hushed and excited whispers buzzed through the chamber with rising magickal energy. The tension growing with each small spark in the room. The nobles’ taste for torture growing to a ravenous appetite. “For these crimes,” Casimir beamed, “I, Casimir of Naenaros, sentence servant Ambrose of Eltoria, to death.”
Cheers roared from the crowd as they slung profanities and ideas for her execution at them. Whatever punishment their twisted minds deemed fit for the criminal kneeling on the marble floor before them. The stone so cold, it burned her knees where it touched her.
