Page 112 of The Hearth Witch’s Guide to Spite & Spellwork

Saga was half listening, moving toward the young woman with the flaming red hair who looked so unlike her mother yet shared her face. She was serene but not cold as she took her place on the stand. There was a chair, but she did not sit.

“Ms. Hudson,” Gideon began slowly, tearing his attention away from the file. “You were granted the position of scion for the Goddess Brigid, were you not?”

“What?” Saga whispered to herself.

“I was,” Audrey answered.

Gideon made a note in his file. “When was that honor bestowed on you?”

“Seven years ago.”

Another note.

“And have you invoked her aid today?”

“No, Your Lordship. There will be no divine intervention on my behalf.” Her tone was solemn, but not sad.

Saga crept closer, knowing she could not be seen, but still fearing it. Her mother looked through her to her family—to the younger Saga.

“Good.” Gideon set down his pen. “Then we may continue with our normal proceedings. If you are familiar with Mundane courts, you will find our methods are far more brief. You will be given the opportunity to speak on your own behalf, then both advocates, Justice Philine and Mercy Norton, will make their arguments concerning how each concept may be satisfied in your sentence, I will deliberate over their words and yours and make my ruling. Do you understand?”

Avery snorted. “Brief, indeed.”

“Avery.” Saga shot a glare.

Contrite, her companion nodded. This was not the time for sibling rivalry, however warranted it might be.

“I do,” Audrey answered Gideon.

Avery offered her hand, and it was only after taking it that Saga realized her own body was shaking. “Remember, it’s a memory,” Avery whispered. “You are safe. I will be right here.”

Saga measured her breaths. In for five, out for six.

“You have been accused of attempting to alter time itself, do you refute that?”

“I do not.” There was an indescribable openness to the way Audrey spoke. The sort of vulnerability that has already accepted its consequence and does not fear it. “It is a crime, and I have committed it.”

“Is there anything you would like to say in defense of your actions?” It was hard to read Gideon Blackthorn. Was he irritated by her mother’s brazen honesty, or impressed? His face remained cool and indifferent.

Audrey nodded, and her gaze darted to a man who appeared to be some sort of court reporter. He was supervising a spell that was pulling faint rays of light into a document. Saga realized this was the original case recording—the means by which she now witnessed these events around her.

When Audrey spoke she addressed the entire room. “There was nothing Mundane about Viggo Trygg.” Her lips involuntarily curled into a smile just saying his name. “He was the smartest man I have ever known, the youngest in his class, graduating in the top .01 percent. He could have gone anywhere, and they would have paid him for the pleasure. But the gods that crafted Viggo Trygg made him as kind as he was brilliant. He didn’t want riches, he wanted to help people.”

Saga couldn’t remember a time when she’d heard her mother speak fondly of her father, but now Audrey did so with conviction.

“He joined an organization of healthcare workers and crisis management aid that targeted communities in need around the world. Natural disasters would strike and he would be there, often before the danger had fully passed. He was a hero, not unlike the legends. There was not a life he touched that was not better for knowing him.” Her voice hitched, which took Saga further by surprise. “I am better for knowing him.” There were actual tears forming in Audrey Hudson’s eyes. In all her life, had Saga ever seen her mother cry? “I often wonder if his kindness in the face of fate’s cruelty was seen as a defiance of nature’s will. Is that why it struck him when no one would be there to save him the way he saved others? Is that why it took his companions immediately, but drew out his suffering?” The tears fell, and she did not move to wipe them away or conceal them. “They told me he tried to climb down the mountain with a broken leg. That it must have taken him hours, but he managed two miles before he could go no farther. He died alone.” Her face contorted and she fought through a sob, anger rising in her voice. “He tried so hard to make it back to us, and he died alone up there.”

Gideon Blackthorn was unmoved by her passion, but still she spoke to him directly.

“How could I let that be? If I had the power to change it? How could I abandon the man who had helped so many? How could I let him die alone like that?” Audrey shook her head and clasped the same charm bracelet Saga now wore. “Brigid forgive me, though I do not deserve it. I violated her trust and betrayed the vows I took to serve in her name, using the power she granted me to summon one of her ilk. To open the gates to the day before he left.” Her gaze seemed distant now, focused on the past. “I avoided paradox by waiting for him at the airport rather than returning home, where I was apprehended by sentinels before I could reach him.”

“You asked how you could let that happen if you had the power to change it. Do you believe you are justified in these actions?” Gideon asked, and somehow the quieter he was, the more threatening he seemed.

But Audrey did not waver. “Any action would be justified if it gave Viggo Trygg back to the world.”

It was slight, barely perceptible in his placid expression, but Saga thought she might have seen the faintest tension gather in his jawline. “Very well. Advocates, the floor is yours.”

“No,” said Audrey firmly.