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Several pairs of eyes stared back at me now, some filled with concern, others anger or fear. Each one different than the last and just as heavy on my skin.
Ukrinsovo sat tense, his large muscles ready to find a way to end the witch's life with his own bare hands. Widyger’s bottomless white eyes watched me, his fingers twitching despite being laced together in front of him. A few others, Dukes and other such Lords who thought themselves powerful enough to sit in, either gaped or scowled. Titan, Torrance’s father, was positioned farthest from me, and yet his complaints were still somehow the loudest.
“She can’t be allowed to live,” Titan huffed, sitting forward in his seat.
“You have an awful lot of opinions for someone who knows so little.”
“As your parents’ appointed advisor—”
A ringing in my ears drowned out the rest of his words. My fingers curled over the arms of the chair I sat in.My mother’s fucking chair.
If we killed the witch now, when I had no answers, my parents’ deaths would be for nothing. That is what would be disrespectful. The soil was still fresh on their graves. Images of that bloody night were still burned inside my head, behind my eyelids.
Sunlight filtered through the windows and bounced off the cold crowns now perched behind me on pedestals. The carved, crystal edges sent streaks of rainbow reflections at odd angles about the room. The ringing faded.
“I know the witch killed twenty men outside your castle without a sound,” he pressed.
She would have made it farther too if it hadn’t been for the odd way that she had passed out. What had caused her to fall unconscious on the steps of the castle? After a physical exam by a healer, we had concluded that the witch was in near-perfect health. Only one guard had even managed to nick her. It was a shallow cut that was already just a slender, silver line on her skin. If there was anything more internally, the healer could not see. Fae magic and burgundy witch magic simply did not belong together. Though some would say the same thing about Fae and Nymph magic, and I would have to disagree there.
“She does not intrigue you? The idea of her knowledge?” Pleasantries were tough enough, but here in court, it was even harder to spend my time pretending to listen.
“We are not intrigued. We are scared,” Widyger said, his voice wavering enough for me to believe his fear.
“And what if she’s not alone? What if there are more of them?” My head pressed against the wooden back of the chair, my posture rigid. I needed to persuade them. They needed to listen to reason.
“Why would she tell us their location anyway?” Titan’s sneer was echoed by a chorus of murmured agreement.
“You wouldn’t even try? Out of fear, you would put her to rest?”
“It’s our duty to the people.” Titan’s calloused words melted into a pleasant slur. His gaze shifted from me to the rest of the waiting, anxious room. “What kind of court would we be, what kind of advisors would we be, if we let Prince Dace keep the witch alive? What would happen if she escaped? Mass murder?”
My attention ticked around the room trying to take in the reactions. Titan had found his soapbox and he stood on it proudly. No one gasped at his words, they were far too dignified to play into the dramatics like a crowd of commoners would. Yet, a few men shifted their weight. That was enough for Titan to take his shot to sway the entire room into agreement. It wasn’t working on me.
“Do you think the Twinity Court would be happy to have a witch tear through their cities like a ravenous tornado?” he continued.
Everyone’s eyes trailed between each other, often skipping right over mine. They were making up their minds.
“There will be more riots,” Widgyer whispered. His backside was perched on the edge of his seat, his shoulders curling in. “Who would try for the throne should they make a move to remove Prince Dace?”
Jesseline, who had blended in like a piece of artwork against the wall, pulled herself away from where she had been watching quietly. Her heeled boots clicked with every step. An angry red had flushed her face as she listened to the men squabble.
She had insisted she be in the room because no one could be trusted. Even those whom my parents trusted. More so them, she had suggested. Every day she took it upon herself to remind me that someone had put a price on my head and even if no attempts had been made yet, someone would come for that coin. A hefty sum, I’m sure. I wondered what the price for my head was? How much coin did someone think I was worth? Clearly, I was worth more to them dead than I ever was alive.
“What will we do if the witch comes for us?” Titan flattened his palms against the table, sliding his hands out and away from him.
Ukrinsovo rolled his eyes. “I’d like to see her try.”
“That’s the thing.” Titan stood, leaning down with his hands against the table. “You wouldn’t see her coming. Burgundy witches are of myth and legend finally born back into truth. She killed all those men without a sound. Are there any words you would like to mutter before you die? She likely wouldn’t let you say them.”
Not a sound was emitted in answer, but a visible shudder passed over the room. Thoughts were beginning to spin behind those watchful gazes, running with the idea Titan was presenting to them. It needed to be derailed.
Jesseline placed a hand on Titan’s shoulder and narrowed her gaze. “Sit down.”
My mistakes were too much to bear and I wasn’t going to let my parents’ deaths be for naught. Something good had to come out of this. Something good would.
Titan leaned away from her touch; an unpleasant disgust pulled the corner of his lips down. “Protecting our citizens, protecting ourselves, should be our top priority.” Then he added, “Especially after the attack.”
“So you’re happy to live your life on what-ifs and maybes?” The question fell from my lips, but for a moment I wasn’t sure anyone had heard me. The room fell overwhelmingly quiet.
