Elmwood
“It was he who attacked us!” said Hilde, rising to her feet and stepping forward.
“Duke Engelbrooke,” said the magistrate, “I have already explained that you are under arrest.”
“This is absurd!” he protested, trying to break free, but the Fortuny boys held him tight. “I am the wronged party here!”
“On the contrary. You are to be brought to trial for murdering a lord. I have the warrant right here,” said the magistrate.
“That is preposterous! I haven’t murdered any lords.”
Winthrop stepped forward, and Elmwood recognized the expression on his face. It was the one he got when he was enormously pleased with himself.
“But you did murder a lord today, Your Grace. You just didn’t realize it at the time.”
The Harrier stopped struggling and frowned.
The magistrate handed the warrant to Winthrop, who cleared his throat, then read it aloud.
“His Grace, the Duke of Engelbrooke, is hereby ordered to be brought into custody and charged for the murder of Rollo Hyeronymus Badgerhound the Second, Lord of Merewyth. Shall I continue, or will that suffice?”
“Who the fuck is Rollo Badger…” The Harrier trailed off. “Wait, you’re having me arrested for shooting the dog?” He began to chuckle. “I know you’re one for petty antics at the bench, but this is absurd. Magistrate, how can you go along with this nonsense? Have you no standards?”
“I’m afraid, Your Grace, that there are no antics here. I have the papers to certify that a Rollo Badgerhound, heir to the former Earl of Elmwood, was indeed formally appointed Lord of Merewyth these two weeks past. This lawyer has testified that you shot and killed him earlier this evening.”
“He’s a fucking dog!”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Winthrop. “He’s a lord according to the law, and you’ll be tried for his murder. Magistrate, what’s the common sentence for lords who murder other lords?”
“Banishment, sir,” said the magistrate.
It hung in the air for one satisfying moment, and then the Harrier exploded into protests.
“I will have you all brought before the King’s Council for misrepresentation of the law! Thorgoode, are you going to sit idly by while our family is dragged through the mud in this outrageous fashion?”
Thorgoode stood slowly, setting down the pie he had been chewing through and looking at his brother without emotion. Then he stepped closer to Hilde and placed an arm about her shoulders.
“The only family I have is my wife,” he said.
Then the Harrier started shouting unintelligibly. The magistrate’s men dragged him away.
Elmwood stumbled and had to steady himself on the table, suddenly rather lightheaded.
He might not have been able to take down the Harrier with the truth, but it mattered little how absurd the final shot was as long as it hit true.
In some ways, it was poetic that after all the terrible things the Harrier had done, it was killing Rollo that would force him to face justice.
“You really are a genius, Win.”
“I’m afraid I’m not so clever as that,” said Winthrop, looking somber. “I did tell you there was bad news as well as good.”
“Lord Elmwood. You are also under arrest. You are to be taken into custody,” said the magistrate, with no sympathy in his voice.
Elmwood smiled a little at Winthrop, to show that he understood the choice he had made and appreciated it from the bottom of his heart.
“No,” said Hilde, stepping away from her husband. “Elmwood!”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I would no longer choose to give myself up, if there was a choice. But I hope you will come to see that this is worth it, a hundred times over, if it means that the Harrier will never trouble you again.”
“No,” she said again, stepping forward and grabbing at his shirt, seeming not to care if her husband and servants and Winthrop and the local magistrate and the entire village saw.
He loved her for that. He just loved her.
“This isn’t right. This isn’t justice. No one deserves to die for using a Charm! ”
He placed his hands over hers and pressed them to his chest.
“It is enough for me that you know that, and that you taught me to believe it myself. Before I met you, I was as good as dead. I might as well have perished on that battlefield. But you have given me something worth being alive for. I will carry that with me when I go,” he said.
Then he pulled her hands up to his mouth and gave them one last kiss.
It was all he dared to do, for he was not as brave as she was.
“Time to go,” said the magistrate.
“Wait!”
They all turned toward the doorway.
There, breathless and rumpled, was Han, holding a piece of paper above her head like a flag.
“What’s this, then?” said the magistrate.
“It’s a pardon for Lord Elmwood, in the queen’s own hand!”