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“Chief, why don’t I drive Ms. Wilson?” Chef offered, her presence making more sense now. “You were kind enough to indulge me earlier this afternoon. It’s only fair.”
; Lila inclined her head and trudged from the kitchen, leaving a scowling Alex behind. Lila didn’t want to fight, nor did she want to sit in a too-cold or too-quiet car. She didn’t even bother to check for bugs or deactivate the GPS from her roadster this time. Everyone knew where she’d be going.
She parked in her reserved spot in the judges’ parking lot, only a few meters away from the capitol. The domed structure was composed of marble, arrogance, and ambition. The senators and judges who held session in the east wing longed to be in the west, the one devoted to Saxony. Those in the west longed to be called away to Unity.
It seemed that everyone else wanted to move up in the world.
Lila’s boots padded against the marble floor as she entered the building, a muffled sound underneath the chattering of several New Bristol senators. They’d gathered in a hallway, all four taking long looks at her. Perhaps they hoped to speak to her about some piece of legislation waiting for the High Council’s signature, or perhaps they wanted to ask her about the season.
Either way, Lila couldn’t be bothered. She turned to the nearest stairwell and climbed to the next floor, trotting down the empty corridor to dodge them.
She hung a right and jogged downstairs again, ending up by the door to the High Council chamber. Most of New Bristol likely believed the judges met in a far grander room, with stained glass and expensive art and gilded trim, but the High Council hadn’t bothered with such frippery. The small room contained thick drapes and expensive rugs, not bought for beauty but for thickness, all to drown out their voices from curious ears.
The damn rugs didn’t even match.
Lila skirted the long table inside, the only furniture the room contained. Twelve different chairs of varying lavishness sat around it, all matched to each house’s color. Celeste Wilson’s golden chair had been shoved to the back of the room, discarded and waiting to be thrown out.
Lila sat down in her crimson chair, eyeing the women around her. Their ages spanned from twenty-five to seventy. All but three were matrons, clad in their silvercoats. The others wore whitecoats, the primes attached the New Bristol council because their matrons had been elevated to the Saxony High Council, just like Lila’s mother.
Lila enjoyed wearing her blackcoat in the council room. It kept the other women on edge, knowing that she had the authority to arrest them. It also kept them confused about the exact rank of the Randolph heirs, since tradition dictated that Lila should not even be on the council if she was no longer prime.
Confusion and nervousness were good things sometimes.
In any case, it kept her amused enough to get through the meetings.
She grabbed the folder before her and peeked at the typed agenda, noting the first few items dealt with legislation passed by the Low and High Senates in the last week. The Randolphs had no issues with them, for they were all trifles. A building renamed, a memorial planned. Everything substantial had already been debated and passed earlier in the legislative session: the budget, next year’s educational standards, new health concerns, environmental regulations, and transportation initiatives. The last two months of the session tended to be nothing but pomp.
Lila’s gaze dropped to the last three items.
4. Review Celeste Wilson’s conviction by both chambers of the senate.
5. Review Patrick Wilson’s conviction by both chambers of the senate.
6. Nominate a new family to ascend to the New Bristol highborn.
Alex entered the room as Lila finished reading, her heels clicking across the chambers. She’d borrowed Lila’s shoes and hadn’t even asked. She stopped behind Lila, surveying the rest of the room with the proud scowl she’d worn all week long.
“Chief Randolph,” Chairwoman Weberly said, her eyes straying to Alex. “I see you’ve brought a guest to visit with the council before we begin. We should drink to old times before we get down to business. Perhaps President Holguín has a spare bottle of Sangre?”
Lila didn’t rise to the bait. Hardly older than Lila, Johanna Weberly had only recently succeeded her newly retired mother. She was still drunk with power, still prodding where she shouldn’t. “You know why she’s here, madam. Ms. Wilson will stay for the duration. Her mother and brother are to be condemned today. The least we can do is let her witness it.”
“No, the least we can do is kick her out of the chambers,” Johanna muttered, her gaze meeting the face of each whitecoat and silvercoat in the room, contemplating her next move.
None of the women joined her cause, not even Élise Holguín, prime of the Holguín family, president of Holguín Enterprises, chair of the New Bristol Council, and Johanna’s usual ally.
The table’s reluctance wasn’t much of surprise. The other judges rarely engaged Lila directly at the best of times, for Lila rarely spoke up in council. Whenever Lila did voice a position, they knew she meant it and that it was important to her, the Randolphs, or their allies. They were usually too cautious of her position to protest merely for the sake of protesting.
In any case, these weren’t the best of times. For all anyone knew, Lila had just masterminded the Wilson sting out of nothing more than impatience. Everyone in the room probably had information they didn’t want Lila to seek out.
Johanna sniffled and adjusted her silvercoat. “This is most irregular.”
“No, it’s not. Heirs of a fallen house have a habit of barging into senate and council deliberations. The only thing not typical this time is that we only have one.”
Élise sat up primly, taking over her role as head of the council, and banged her gavel on its sounding block. “Let’s begin, shall we? Perhaps we should start with agenda items four and five so that Ms. Wilson will not be overburdened?”
The judges picked through the files of Celeste and Patrick Wilson, reviewing Bullstow’s position as well the position of the defendant’s lawyers. They couldn’t decide guilt or innocence, but they could judge whether or not all the evidence had been considered, if the punishment fit the crime, if the judgment should be returned to the senate chambers for further review. But Bullstow had been diligent in their paperwork and more than fair to both of the accused. Since they’d only been charged with treason for doing business with citizens of the empire, there was no penalty the state could levy except death.
