Chapter 51 Judgment
JUDGMENT
RAE
My legs wobbled from disuse, and my stomach cramped as two men in black fatigues led me out of the courtyard, through the fog bank, and toward the clearing beyond.
The first thing I noticed was the stillness that settled over everything the moment we stepped out of the bordering fog onto barren ground cracked like salt flats, corroded and stretching outward in all directions.
Dead trees with pale, artichoke-shaped blooms lined the clearing’s edge, branches sagging under the weight of blackened vines and shriveled foliage.
The prison’s courtyard stayed walled off by dense fog that rose into a sky of the same color, making it hard to know where it ended, but the clearing differed. A bluish-grey haze clung low, rolling over the cracked ground. At the ring’s edge it blurred and rose into what looked like fog on Earth.
In the fog beyond, the souls I’d glimpsed two days earlier roamed without direction. Their bluish-white ethereal forms remained silent, unlike before. The ward that blocked the heavy fog also seemed to muffle their sounds from entering the clearing.
Only when they drifted too close to the ring did I hear their hollow moans as they recoiled, as if an invisible barrier burned them.
When the bulky man at my left pivoted, I caught my first glimpse of life beyond these guards and Ranthus in days.
Figures I didn’t recognize sat on a dozen or so chairs on a raised platform. They looked human in modern clothes and familiar features—but I knew better.
Cameras flanked the platform—production rigs like the ones used on Earth. The “audience” and crew manning the cameras made the whole setup look like a television studio.
Dread washed over me when I realized why.
They were televising my execution.
“Bring her,” a stern voice called beyond several dead trees that blocked my view.
The guards led me toward the voice, and when I saw who waited beyond the trees, my knees buckled, and I choked on the sob I fought to hold back.
The guys stood in a line straight ahead.
They were all dressed alike in black slacks and button-down dress shirts. The only difference: gemstone brooches at the throat instead of ties. Ash in brilliant emerald, Zeke in striking aquamarine, Ezra in vivid sapphire, and Cyn in deep ruby.
My heart pounded as I took in each of their faces.
Zeke looked devastated. The sensitive man I’d grown to care for couldn’t hide the pain on his face. Dark circles ringed glossy, red-rimmed eyes, and his features sharpened with weight loss, making my heart ache.
Ash watched me with a stoic expression, but the mask didn’t hide the pain in his eyes. Even freshly groomed, he wasn’t doing well; the same dark circles shadowed his eyes and sweat beaded his brow.
I broke eye contact before I did something stupid like try to run to him.
I didn’t know if their pain was from my supposed betrayal, or if Grandma was right and not all of them had given up on me.
I wanted to believe the latter, but even if I did, what did it matter?
I was a dead woman walking.
My attention settled on Cyn, and I found him already watching me with those intense amber eyes.
To my surprise, he looked tired and worn down. The hatred I’d seen the day he stole my necklace was gone, but the skin around his shadowed eyes remained tight as he watched me.
The longer we watched each other, the more I registered his discomfort.
His jaw ticked in agitation, but he refused to look away.
If he hadn’t taken the necklace…
I squeezed my eyes shut, unable to look at him for fear of crying.
I realized I cared more about the asshole than I wanted to admit. Not that I’d ever have accepted anything beyond the fleeting physical attraction we shared.
With him, I felt like I could finally fight back. He didn’t suppress me. He welcomed my defiance, letting me release the pent-up frustration at a world that kept me cowed.
But I knew he didn’t do it for me. He was an asshole, and our push-and-pull was just a game to him.
Sexual compatibility didn’t make a relationship.
It was Zeke’s explanation of Cyn that made me care in spite of myself, and Cyn’s small actions let me peek through his cracks on my own.
He saved me.
He protected me.
He hunted for me.
I never asked him about Shane’s broken arm. I doubted he’d admit to following me, but I remembered his words: “I’ll do more than break your fucking arm if you come near her.”
He hunted my boss after our run-in at the mall.
Why would he do that if he truly hated me?
My own family didn’t protect me. And while they didn’t like me, they didn’t hate me—but they’d never lift a finger to look out for me the way Cyn had.
That meant far more to me than he realized.
Still, he’d crossed a line I didn’t know if we could come back from. After today, I’d never find out.
I opened my eyes and shifted my gaze to the last prince in the row.
Ezra.
He looked impeccable as always, but the shine was gone from his inky hair. His pale skin lacked the healthy glow I remembered. He looked ill. They all did.
I wondered if their time on Earth affected their ability to adapt once home.
His icy gaze trailed over me, taking in every detail with that usual penetrating sweep that left me feeling exposed. When his gaze returned to my face, his mouth dipped in the faintest downturn.
He didn’t like what he saw.
Before I could unpack what that might mean, the guards yanked me to the right, forcing me to face the others in the clearing.
Six middle-aged women and men in elegant robes watched me with a mix of curiosity and contempt.
On the far left, a blue-eyed, willowy woman in silver and blue robes accented by aquamarine jewels and silver chains gripped the arm of the man at her side. He wore similar robes. Their bright platinum-white hair revealed they were Zeke’s parents. He hadn’t dyed his hair like I’d thought.
To the far right, a man with ebony hair tied back in a sleek ponytail watched me with scorn.
He rivaled Ash in size, but the chiseled jawline and ruby gemstones accenting his crimson and black robe marked him as Cyn’s kin.
The amber-eyed woman with long black hair at his side watched me with curiosity.
Standing between the couples, a tall man in black robes with silver chains and sapphire gemstones studied me.
He shared the same crystal blue eyes as his son, but Ezra’s father, Cornaith, hadn’t mastered his son’s talent for concealing emotions. If the power radiating off him didn’t broadcast his loathing, his burning stare did.
The woman at his back was an entirely different story.
Her head stayed lowered so I couldn’t see her eyes, but her posture said she didn’t carry Cornaith’s crushing power. Still, in the same style of robes, the pale woman with honey-blonde hair was clearly Ezra’s mother.
“So this is the human who thinks herself worthy of Elyrdin’s royal power?”
Cornaith’s deep voice carried a layer of force that pressed against me, weakening my knees. He infused his voice with power on purpose.
The council members around him stiffened and flinched, making it obvious this wasn’t his ordinary tone.
The guards guided me before the council, forcing me to my knees.
I glared at the one on the left—the same one who’d manhandled me.
He pressed my head down, forcing my submission.
I clenched my teeth; the magical gag kept me from snapping at him.
“I commend your efforts,” Cornaith said, clasping his hands before his chest as he peered down at me. “To mask your influence and keep even our strongest vallants from finding the princes’ magical signatures for as long as you did is quite an impressive feat.”
A lanky man in plain street clothes crouched in front of me, aiming a camera in my face. I turned my head, letting my messy hair shield me. I didn’t want to be on a stupid television program.
“But you didn’t do this alone, did you?”
When I didn’t answer fast enough, the man I believed was Cyn’s father snapped, “Answer him, human.”
For a species that relied on humans to sustain their home, they sure treated us like trash.
I shook off the thought as the pressure on my throat eased and the magic binding my vocal cords released. “I didn’t do anything wrong.” I coughed, clearing my throat.
Cyn’s father stepped forward. “No? What would you call capturing someone against their will?”
“Yes, do tell,” Zeke’s father said. “Because I know my son would never leave without permission.”
I angled my head toward Zeke.
His teeth pressed into his lower lip as he looked from his father to me.
Cornaith’s power flared. “Do not look at them!”
I flinched and glared up at him.
“We will not have you manipulating our sons any longer,” Cyn’s father said.
I knew they were waiting for my answer.
I sighed. “I didn’t mean to summon them. I never meant for any of this to happen.”
Cyn’s mother came to her husband’s side and clutched his arm, and he relaxed at her touch. “What do you mean by that?” Her voice was gentle. She didn’t sound like she hated me.
I looked up at her. “I received a book. I thought I was playing a silly game. I was only looking for a distraction because I’d had a bad day at work.”
Her voice stayed gentle, encouraging. “What kind of game?”
“We have games on Earth that aren’t for kids. Occult-ish stuff—Ouija boards, tarot cards, séances… Nothing I ever believed in. I played to kill time. I thought the book was one of those.”
Zeke’s mother’s stern voice cut in. “You understood the book. How do you explain that?”
“What do you mean?”
She frowned. “Was my question not clear? Explain how you knew infernal tongue.”
“Infernal tongue?”
“Languages, girl,” Cyn’s father snapped.
“Oh. Sorry—I didn’t know what you meant.” I sighed. “The page was in English.” Everyone but Cyn and Ezra’s mother made sounds of disbelief, I added, “I thought it was weird too because I couldn’t understand any of the other pages.”
“There are no English pages in the book,” Zeke’s mother said.