This information seemed to land unevenly on the crowd.Some of the faces around Thalia tightened with suspicion, while others remained intrigued.Thalia exhaled silently, some of the tension leaving her shoulders.She had known this line of questioning would occur, and had been worried it would derail Ashe’s testimony entirely.This was better than what she’d expected.Ashe’s credibility was bruised, but still intact.On the whole, she’d managed to help Roran’s case rather than hurt it.
No sooner had Thalia had the thought than Virek spoke again, his words sharp like a well-aimed bolt from Ashe’s crossbow.“Have you ever witnessed the accused use forbidden storm magic techniques outside of emergency situations?”
Thalia blinked, stunnedby the Founders.She had expected the questions about the Storm Chase, but not this.Never this.
“Not good,” Luna whispered tensely.
Unbidden, her mind rushed back to that night, to the moonlight rippling across the fjord’s still water and the sharp scent of the pines.She and Ashe had been down at the docks, practicing a cryomantic form by dawn’s light, when they’d seen the searing light of electricity through the trees.They’d watched, hidden, as Roran practiced his storm magic.It had seemed like training, like ritual; the exercises were clearly familiar to him.
Ashe drew an audible breath, like the question had stung her.There was panic in her eyes as her gaze slid to Thalia — panic, and remorse.
Ashe’s tribe abhorred breaches of oath, disloyalty to sworn allies.To lie to the tribunal, even with a single word, would be a transgression as taboo as murder.Thalia felt cold as she locked eyes with Ashe, but she couldn’t bring herself to do anything other than nod.Just once, a slight inclination of her head to show that she understood.
"Yes," Ashe admitted, her voice tight with reluctance."Once."
Wolfe leaned forward, her eyes sharp with interest."Explain," she commanded.
"Months before the attack," Ashe said, each word measured as if it pained her to speak them, "I saw him practicing with lightning in the woods at night.Alone."
A murmur of unease spread through the crowd, the fragile sympathy Ashe had built for Roran beginning to crumble under this new revelation.Thalia could see the calculation in Virek's pale eyes as he pressed his advantage.
"And did he know you saw him?"he asked, though the question was unnecessary—a theatrical flourish meant only to emphasize the point he was about to make.
Ashe's jaw tightened."No."
"Then he was hiding it," Virek concluded, satisfaction evident in his whisper-soft voice."Not using it in defense of others, not in desperation—but deliberately, in secret.It sounds as though he knew it was wrong."
Ashe opened her mouth to argue, her eyes flashing with frustration, but Instructor Solberg cut her off with a raised hand.
"Why did you not report this incident, Redwood?"he asked, his voice grave with disapproval."As a loyal recruit, it was your duty to bring such a serious breach of academy rules to our attention.You were friends with the accused during your time at Frostforge, were you not?"
His implication was clear: Ashe's testimony was compromised by personal loyalty, her judgment clouded by friendship rather than duty.Thalia watched as the careful mask of control slipped from Ashe's face—her jaw tightening, eyes glittering with barely contained anger at the tribunal's deliberate twisting of her words.
But the damage was done.The mutterings in the crowd made it clear that Ashe’s credibility was in shambles; if she had helped Roran’s case, even for a moment, that advantage had now been utterly lost.
"I believed then, as I believe now," Ashe said, her voice strained with the effort of maintaining her composure, "that Roran Bright's loyalty to Frostforge is beyond question.His actions during the attack proved—"
"That will be all, soldier," Wolfe interrupted, her tone brooking no argument."You are dismissed."
Ashe stood rigid for a moment, the struggle evident in every line of her body—her instinct to fight warring with the soldier's duty to obey.Finally, she offered another salute, this one stiff with suppressed emotion, and stepped down from the platform.She crossed the space between the tribunal’s dais and the stands, pausing as she drew close to Roran.
Thalia was not near enough to hear the words they exchanged, but their expressions spoke volumes: Ashe’s brows furrowed, her open palms begging forgiveness; Roran’s lips pressed thin, his eyes downcast as he shook his head.Then Ashe continued past him, her steps short and rigid, until she reached the stands and took her seat beside Thalia.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, distraught.“I tried, Thalia.I really did.”
"I know," Thalia replied, squeezing Ashe's arm briefly.The gesture was automatic, a reflex of reassurance, though she felt none herself.
CHAPTER NINE
The low, echoing toll of Frostforge's outer watch bells carved through the morning stillness, each reverberation shivering through the ancient stone halls like a premonition.Thalia adjusted the straps of her ice-steel armor, already cinched in place over her shoulders and chest, and tried to still the tremor in her fingers.The bells meant only one thing: travelers approaching through the northern pass.
Thalia swallowed against the dryness in her throat and took her place among the soldiers assembled outside the main portcullis, forcing herself to focus on the caravan winding its way through the distant switchbacks rather than the memory of Ashe's anguished apology from the day before, or the hollow defeat in Roran's eyes as the tribunal had adjourned.They were intending to meet one more time, but after their first session, the weight of the evidence seemed insurmountable.Where the tribunal had been circling like vultures seeking fresh meat, they were now poised to descend, beaks sharpened by Ashe's damning testimony.
Winter sunlight glinted off the ice-crusted stone of Frostforge's outer walls.The massive portcullis, its bars forged from ice-iron and enchanted with cryomantic runes, loomed above them like the maw of some ancient beast.Thalia's breath fogged before her face as she stood at attention, her position placing her between two Northern soldiers whose disdain was palpable even in their silence.Beyond them, Senna paced with predatory grace, her silver-gray eyes narrowed as she surveyed the approaching caravan.
The caravan was closer now, a ragged procession of perhaps two hundred souls.From this distance, they looked like a dark stain against the pristine white of the snow-covered path.No uniformity to their movement, no organization to their approach.These were not military, not merchants—these were people fleeing destruction, carrying their lives in bundles on their backs or dragging them behind on makeshift sleds.
Refugees from the South.Perhaps from Verdant Port.The thought twisted in Thalia's gut like a blade.
