Thalia sank back onto the bench, her movements wooden.The mess hall seemed suddenly distant, as if she were viewing it through thick glass.Sounds reached her as if through water—muffled, distorted.Her hands lay flat on the table before her, and she stared at them, noticing with detached curiosity how they trembled.
"This isn't good," Luna whispered, her voice pitched low enough that only Thalia could hear."Whatever their reasoning in calling you as a witness, it doesn't bode well."
The words gave voice to the fear that had lodged in Thalia's chest like a shard of ice.They didn't need her testimony—not after Ashe's damning admissions, not after Einar's persuasive accusations.They had enough already to condemn Roran ten times over.Which meant they wanted something else from her.Something specific.
"They're going to use me against him," she breathed, the realization tasting bitter on her tongue.
Luna's hand found hers beneath the table, squeezing tightly."You don't know that," she said, though her tone lacked conviction.
But Thalia did know.The tribunal had demonstrated its intent clearly enough during Ashe's testimony: they wanted a spectacle, not justice.And what better way to complete Roran's humiliation than to force a confession of his heritage from someone he trusted?
"I should go," Thalia said, rising again.The need to escape the crowded hall, to find some moment of solitude before facing the tribunal, pressed upon her with sudden urgency."I need to...prepare."
Luna nodded, understanding in her eyes."I'll be there," she promised."In the audience."
Thalia managed a tight nod before turning away.She felt eyes following her as she made her way through the mess hall—curious, pitying, calculating.The refugees parted before her, shrinking from her uniform as if it represented a threat.The students watched with naked interest, already speculating on what secrets she might reveal about the accused.
Outside in the corridor, the cold air slapped against her heated skin like a reprimand.Thalia leaned against the ancient stone wall, its chill seeping through her uniform, anchoring her to the present moment.Half an hour to compose herself.Half an hour to decide how much truth she was willing to speak.
Half an hour to decide whether to betray Roran or condemn herself.
***
Thalia stood behind the wooden partition, listening to the murmur of the crowd filling the amphitheater beyond.Her legs felt like they'd been transmuted to wood by some malevolent alchemist's spell—rigid and unnatural, hardly her own.The air around her seemed to press inward, thick with anticipation and the chill of mountain stone.She closed her eyes, trying to steady her breathing as she had before combat drills and golem forging tests, but the techniques that had served her then failed her now.This wasn't a test of skill or knowledge.This was something far more dangerous: a public dissection of her loyalty, her judgment, her heart.
"The tribunal calls Thalia Greenspire," Wolfe's voice carried through the partition, clear and commanding.
Her name, spoken in that formal cadence, sent a shiver down her spine.For a disorienting moment, Thalia felt like one of her own constructs—like Falchion, her ice-brass golem—activated by the utterance of her name, compelled to move by forces beyond her control.She stepped around the partition and into the amphitheater's merciless light.
The sight that greeted her was worse than she'd imagined.The wooden stands were packed to capacity—students, soldiers, instructors, refugees—all eyes fixed on her with unnerving intensity.The morning sun cast long shadows across the platform, highlighting the five high-backed chairs where the tribunal sat in judgment.Thalia forced her gaze forward, focusing on the task of putting one foot before the other.
Her path took her directly past Roran, who knelt in the center of the amphitheater, chains binding his wrists to rings set in the wooden platform.She faltered as she drew alongside him, her steps hesitating despite her best intentions.Roran looked up, his once-vibrant eyes now shadowed with exhaustion, yet still burning with something that might have been pride or desperation.
"Don't lie to them, Thalia.Please."His whisper reached her alone, raw and stripped of all pretense.The words weren't a plea for his own sake—she knew him well enough to recognize that.He was afraid for her, for what the tribunal might do if they caught her in a falsehood.
Thalia couldn't respond, not with the weight of hundreds of eyes upon her, but she gave the slightest nod before continuing to the witness position.She stood before the tribunal, hands clasped behind her back in military stance.
Wolfe leaned forward slightly, her emerald eyes piercing as they had been in the mess hall."Soldier Greenspire," she began, her voice carrying effortlessly to the farthest reaches of the amphitheater, "is Soldier Redwood's testimony from yesterday accurate?Did you witness the accused practicing storm magic in secret?"
The question was direct, impossible to evade.Thalia swallowed against the dryness in her throat."Yes, Instructor," she confirmed, her voice steadier than she felt."Ashe's testimony was accurate."
Wolfe nodded, seemingly satisfied with this initial answer."You and the accused had a close relationship during your time at Frostforge," she continued."Would you say that is an accurate characterization?"
Heat crept into Thalia's cheeks despite the mountain chill.The phrasing made it sound like something clandestine, inappropriate.She thought of quiet conversations on the Crystalline Plateau, of shared meals in the mess hall, of the moment their lips had met in the aftermath of battle.She thought of Roran's laugh, now silenced by chains and accusation.
"Yes," she said simply, unwilling to elaborate unless forced.
The tribunal members exchanged glances, a silent communication passing between them.Virek's frost-scarred hands twitched on the table before him.Marr's expression remained carefully neutral, though his eyes held a weariness that suggested he took no pleasure in these proceedings.Ironhelm shifted uncomfortably, while Solberg—the eldest among them, his beard white as fresh snow—leaned forward with undisguised interest.
"How close?"Solberg asked, his pale blue eyes bright with curiosity that bordered on prurience.
The directness of the question caught Thalia off guard."We were friends," she answered, then immediately regretted the defensive note in her voice.
"Just friends?"Solberg pressed, one white eyebrow arching upward.
Thalia opened her mouth, then closed it again, unsure how to respond.The truth was more complicated than simple categories could contain.They had been friends, yes, but also something more—something unnamed and unfinished, interrupted by war and duty and now this farce of justice.
As she struggled to find words, Wolfe intervened."We understand this is difficult, soldier," she said, her tone softening in a way that felt calculated rather than compassionate."But the truth serves justice."She paused, allowing the weight of the statement to settle."Did Roran ever speak to you of the Isle Wardens?"
