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“The Psychic Advisory Commission,” Anthony cut in. “They’d be able to provide a list of spirit talkers. The court could choose to prevent bias by either party.”
He turned to face the bench. “While Mr. Lawrence Marlowe has not denied his part in contractually arranging the illegal marriage of his minor daughter, I think it behooves this court to understand the reasons why. If, as my client believes, it was used as a means of punishment and revenge, then surely that should be considered during any discussion on intent and sentencing.”
“I have admitted wrongdoing,” my father said, with just the slightest edge in his voice. The red flashes were now so strong they were nigh on blinding. Furious didn’t even begin to describe his emotions right now, even if it was all being held well under the surface. “Intent should not matter.”
“On the contrary,” the speaker said coldly. “And I find it interesting that you fight this matter, Mr. Marlowe. It speaks to guilt more than anything else could.”
“It is not guilt, but rather an unwillingness to waste the court’s time with my daughter’s foolish attempt to paint me in a bad light.”
“Oh,” I muttered, “I think you’re doing a damned good job of that yourself.”
Anthony cast me another one of those looks. I sat down and shut up.
The speaker glanced at the other councilors, then said, “We’ll take an hour recess to discuss the matter.” She glanced at her watch, then banged the gavel. “Court will resume at one.”
The councilors rose and walked out. My father thrust to his feet and stepped toward me. Anthony quickly positioned himself between us.
“I suggest you rethink what you’re about to do,” he said quietly.
My father looked him up and down, then turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, his fury so fierce it left a heated trail of air behind him.
Moderno gathered his briefcase and said, “Well played, Anthony, but do not think for an instant you’ve won this game. We haven’t yet played all of our cards.”
My gut twisted. I had a bad feeling he was referring to my ability to use the wild magic, though to be truthful I couldn’t see how it would get my father off the hook when he’d already admitted guilt.
Especially when the tests he’d insisted on had come back without the expected power boost.
Besides, the time to weaponize my ability to use the wild magic in order to get the charges dropped would have been before the court case had actually begun. Belle and I were the main witnesses, so the prosecution’s case would have been far harder to make if we’d not shown up.
It could be a bluff, of course, though my father rarely bothered with such games.
“If you have a new witness, Jack, you’re legally required to give us advance warning.”
“I am well aware of that.” With a nod that encompassed us both, he picked up his briefcase and left the room.
“Well,” I said, “that doesn’t sound ominous at all now, does it?”
“I would say that whatever they’re intending is proving problematic. He has to get court approval to add another witness at this stage of proceedings, and we’d be automatically notified.”
“Who do you think the witness might be?”
He shrugged. “Their only real hope now lies in proving you’re an unreliable witness and that your memories can’t be trusted. Did you ever see a psychologist when you were younger?”
“One, when the nightmares first hit me.”
Anthony’s eyebrows rose. “What nightmares?”
“Prophetic dreams—they set in with puberty. My parents initially thought I was either lying to gain attention or going crazy.”
“Do you know the name of the psychologist?”
I shook my head. “It was a long time ago.”
“Did you see him or her for long?”
“Her, and no, I think it was only three or four sessions. She was the one who recommended I be sent to the PAC to be tested.”
Of course, Belle’s parents had already arranged for me to be unofficially tested, more to reassure me that no matter what my parents said, I was neither insane nor a worthless attention-grabbing chit.
