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The chair of skulls and roses had never been more uncomfortable and for the first time, I welcomed the distraction. Seven councilors and Bersig’s grandson sat below ready to pass their judgement. Even as the court crier cleared his throat to read the charges, we all knew how it would end. Since von Uster and the bone soldiers, most minor nobles themselves, had seen hers and her sister’s faces on the bridge, then the full court when we arrived at the palace, both her and Helia, there had been no stopping this even had I desired it.
If a curse could rewrite the previous days, I would have spent my last, but even the one I had used three years ago in hope to make those who hurt my child suffer as my loved ones had, had proven empty words. Perhaps the gods truly mocked us and after Tempest’s sentencing, I would be the one to feel its effect, for I had surely considered her mine.
The shock of the necromancer’s face after her mask was removed replayed every time my eyes involuntarily sought the woman below. Despite the betrayals and lies, I had to force myself not to carry her away from here. To protect her and kiss away the hurt furrowing her numb face. I had promised myself no one would ever hurt her,but could find no other path than forward, no matter how it would wreck us both.
She used her powers, I reminded myself for the thousand time,it wasn’t real.
“For conspiracy against the Crown,” the crier started, “the kidnapping of Helia von Heskin, Princess of Oberwalden”—who snorted audibly from the balcony above—“illegally using your magic on Dimitri Alexandre Ivanov, the first of his name, uncrowned King of Tal”—seducing and playing him for a fool in his own palace—“the former king, may his Spirit find peace, and several ladies of the court; stealing the queen’s glass crown”—she returned that—“indiscriminate theft from the royal family”—trinkets and information—“and impersonating nobility.” The court crier’s intonation said this was the worst crime of all.
There was a dignity to Vanya Komarova as she heard the charges echoing through the mostly empty courtroom. Large parts of the events that led up to this moment were not public knowledge—would never be if I had any say in it—and thus the doors had been locked while this charade of justice continued.
Helia von Heskin, the real one, leaned over the railing of the upper balcony. From this distance, anyone could have mistaken her for Vanya or her sister. The Oberwaldian princess had insisted she attend the trial and I could hardly deny her, but her assessing eyes drove the full extent of my foolish hopes even deeper.
“Who offers evidence on behalf of the Crown?” the crier finished.
Von Lemerch stood. “I do.”
As the head of the Council, she would present the letters and witness statements. If I had ever doubted how the Council would vote, the hateful looks she gave Vanya dissolved it.
My hands clenched on the ornamental skulls to prevent them from shaking as the letter from Lord Bersig was read again, and his grandson, Kazimir—broad-shouldered with unkempt blond locks and worn clothes despite the formal occasion—stood to confirm its provenance. After leaving the prison, I had gone directly to the hospital to question him at length, still wishing it an elaborate lie.
He had repeated again and again that his grandfather wrote the letter after years of study. When my father had not responded, Kazimir was sent to Tal for an audience. He had told me a dozen times how he traveled to Sorach and brought back the night powder after hearing its victims suffered similar to our plague-infected.
It was only when Nikolai, summoned by Mariska, arrived to vouch for Kazimir’s trustworthiness—a long-time friend of his—that I was forced to accept the truth. She hid this for two months, watching the court fall apart as my father sickened, and as she comforted me afterward, she handed this information to the rebels.
Now came the letter in Vanya’s own hand. It was clearly meant for me. Each word read before these men and women I hated cut away another part of my heart. My eyes fixed on the witch who held the knife. She did not even look up.
“Dimi,” it started, though she had never addressed me by my nickname. First, I had thought it a clue—had she written it under duress? Was it someone else’s words planted on her? But no, enough samples of her handwriting had been analyzed and my scribes all agreed, this was hers.
“I can never tell you how sorry I am for my lies, but I will never regret the truths—that I care for you, that when we fight, I fly, that I do not wish to leave your side.” Crossed out lines followed theopening, as if she had not known how to continue. The scribes had found nothing damning in there despite steaming the paper. Von Lemerch continued with the next clear word. “There are people who do not wish me at your side. They are willing to kill to not let the wedding happen. Even in the final moment, be on your guard.”
The councilwoman frowned, as if she too could not make sense of Vanya’s message. On the surface they were obvious platitudes. Of course, some objected to a foreigner becoming their queen. Then there was Eki—all the words could apply to her. Had Vanya known she pushed her before I told her? Or was she trying to say something more? When I found Tempest in the drink hall, she had insisted someone was trying to kill me.
Even in the final moment, be on your guard. With her, I had let it down. Now her own words would remind me never to do it again.
It finished with, “I have never seen Oberwalden. You do not know me. I’m sorry I could not even tell you my name.”
At this, she finally met my eyes andshe—Vanya, Tempest, my princess—was nowhere in her blank look. Like she was already dead.
Von Lemerch read my own statement. The formal language described how Vanya had impersonated Helia von Heskin, gaining access to the palace and Women’s Tower—when Helia returned, these questions had been inevitable. The rest was not, but there had been too many questions from too-important people for me to say nothing.
In as few words as possible, I outlined how she attempted to steal the glass crown and I caught her. It did not mention kisses and late-night conversations. Nor did it mention anything of what happened after she left the palace, beyond her leading me into an ambush. As von Lemerch moved on to Helia’s equally stilted words,I tuned out, unable to bear it any longer. Every true word felt like a lie.
Who had made Vanya do this? Had they forced her to kiss me? Whose lies had it been we acted out together? It felt like the mud of the Taliell covered my insides, each thought fighting against the sludge of self-recrimination, betrayal, and shame. She had led but I had followed—and someone else had pulled both of our strings.
I had decided I might be able to rule Tal and now everyone who mattered knew me for a fool, turned by any pretty face. And magic—Solovyova had already given a long lecture on consorting with a witch and had her water seer check for residual effects. Nothing she had done had made me able to draw a full breath of air or loosened the vice around my heart.
After my father killed my child and exiled me, I had nothing to do besides obsessing. The guards at the keep between Oberwalden and Tal my father sent me to avoided me and I sought only Cherny’s company. Despite the cold, I had been unable to light a fire without the darkness inside rising and my body locking up to keep in the screams. This betrayal and loss felt different and the sudden duties of ruling even before my coronation left me few moments to feel. Instead, the pressure inside grew until I looked at Vanya again and everything stilled. I had promised to protect her—Mariska did not let me forget it—but what did protection look like when every road led to death?
More testimonies were presented, servants and guards, my mother and grandmother, even Flora von Heskin interviewed still in her cell as if her word carried weight. One of the advantages of being the uncrowned king was that I had received copies of all thewitness statements beforehand. Once someone started to unravel the mystery that was Vanya, the case for her death was undisputable.
I clenched my jaw until I feared a tooth would crack. Air flowed like syrup. If I overrode the Council’s unavoidable sentence, they would think me still under her magic, and perhaps I would be. Wearing the crown of Tal was supposed to mean hard decisions. If I pardoned her, they would kill her to save me. This was the only way to protect her—something I should not even want to do.
“The Council has heard all evidence,” von Lemerch said, returning me to the present. “Does anyone wish to speak on behalf of the defendant?”
Couriers and Council members exchanged silent looks. Mariska would have spoken had I not ordered her locked in her rooms. She had argued even though I told her it was meaningless. Nikolai, for once acting like the concerned older brother, was watching over her.
The court crier cleared his throat. “The uncrowned King has placed his trust in the Council, asking them to determine the accused’s guilt. If the Crown’s case has swayed you, stand.”
