Chapter 5
Chapter Five
ELARIYA
Ispent the next few days training. Training with Alaric in the morning, then training with Arielle after.
Both sessions filled my day and exercised my growing power.
But nighttime was hard.
With nothing to do but face the horrors of what could happen circling my mind, I thought of Wolfe, thought of what he was enduring.
Every time I closed my eyes, it was the same. My last thoughts before sleep took me were of him, and I wished there were something more I could do.
What was worse was, we’d heard from Magdalena. She was still waiting for clearance to continue her lessons with me. I might have had more hope that I could move forward faster with her help.
At least she still seemed like herself—as far as I could tell from her note. She’d sent a raven.
While I didn’t expect her to turn on us, I was mindful that people could change based on whatever their opinions were of Wolfe and Dreynthor.
The day before the trial snuck up on us. I feared it almost as much as tomorrow.
It was the waiting.
I hated waiting. And waiting was so much worse when you had to rely on others for the outcome.
After a long day, we all gathered later for dinner. Arielle, the Bloodsworn, Sirril, and me.
Kaem was joining us. We were hoping he’d have some news we could hold on to, something to get us through the night and take us into tomorrow.
I couldn’t wait to see Wolfe, but I was not looking forward to going to the Citadel. Every time the word entered my mind, my lungs constricted as though a vice forced them together.
Sirril and the other servants served up a delicious spread of food. All my favourites were there, filling the air with the aroma of herby beef, spices, and a sense of normalcy that felt out of place.
Just as Sirril sat, a portal opened, and Kaem stepped through it.
The old Fae male gave me a quick nod of acknowledgment first. I nodded back, feeling a sliver of nostalgia. The last time I saw him was my wedding day. He’d officiated the ceremony.
Tonight, he looked more like the savvy merchant I’d met at the Luminaire Festival. He wore simple clothing—black slacks and a long-sleeved threadbare shirt with a long black jacket over it.
His weathered face spoke of the battles and life he’d seen.
His tussled graying hair suggested he’d been working hard all day—maybe all week—but what gripped me was his eyes.
There’d always been a spark there that held a fatherly warmth.
Tonight, those eyes held no hope. It was a heads-up that I shouldn’t release the breath I was holding on to just yet.
He was supposed to be looking for evidence of Dreynthor’s involvement in Wolfe’s father’s murder.
He looked at each of us around the table as we waited, eager to hear what he had to say. When he gave a slow shake of his head, something inside me sank.
He pulled out a chair with a flick of his fingers and sat between Garrick and Alaric.
“I got nothing,” Kaem muttered, his voice low and raspy. “I went back to the rebel encampment, searched around for days, found evidence that led me on a wild goose chase, and now I’m here. But please don’t give up hope. I will keep trying.”
A hush of silence fell across the room. No one spoke. No one breathed.
After a few heartbeats, Alaric moved, leaning forward and resting his hands on the table. “Thank you for looking.” He stared at Kaem and dipped his head with reverence. Kaem returned the sentiment.
I finally released that breath, but only for an empty feeling to take its place.
Arielle reached for my hand under the table.
I glanced at her. She offered a reassuring nod. It was the same sort of gesture everyone had been giving me all week. Sometimes it helped. At other times, like now, it did not.
My gaze fell to the grooves in the wooden table. My mind stretched as the worries circled back, and I felt like I was going to tear off my skin.
What were we going to do?
I’d worked hard all week, trying to stay calm and learn what I could, but we were going to the Citadel tomorrow emptyhanded.
“We need to go in strong tomorrow.” Kaem nodded, glancing around the table.
“We need to present a united front, because we’ll be the only people there supporting Wolfe.
The trial will consist of twelve judges.
Each of them will scrutinize Wolfe and the evidence they have.
There will be moments when it will seem like we’re out of our depth—truth be told, we are—but we need to fight back. ”
“How will we defend him?” I had to ask. Honestly, all week, I’d held back on asking too many questions because I didn’t know if I could handle the answers. But now was the time to get as much information as possible.
“I will be representing him,” Bastian announced. “Alaric can’t do it because he’s his brother. As his second-in-command, I’m the next best option.”
“Is that like legal representation?” I probably sounded silly. That was how the mortal lands worked.
“Not exactly.” Bastian sighed. “I can speak on his behalf, but my words carry no authority.”
“Things are a little different here,” Kaem chimed. “Magic guides everything. The problem is, Wolfe is in Deathwalker form. He’s become a creature of death and dark magic. The latter is obviously the more damning, so it’s difficult to tell what the counsel will decide.”
“Let’s just see what happens,” Alaric cut in before anyone else spoke. His eyes drifted to mine briefly, then he looked back at everyone else. “Let’s eat, guys. We’ll worry about tomorrow when it comes. No point doing it now and making ourselves weaker.”
Wise words.
Everyone, including me, followed his order, but I just mindlessly picked at my food in the same numbed state I hadn’t been able to shake.
The Citadel rose from the mountainside of the capital.
Carved into the black stone cliffs, it stood like a monument of judgment. Towering spires pierced the sky with sharp, scary silhouettes cutting across the clouds.
No banners flew from its walls. Not like at the Royal Palace. And there was nothing inviting about the place.
The mere sight sent shivers through me.
We walked together as a group, crossing the bridge leading to the entrance. Kaem and Alaric were ahead, leading us.
Arielle had her arm looped through mine, and Bastian and Garrick were flanking us.
I glanced at Garrick, sensing he was watching me. He was. He dipped his head, a silent bid for me to be strong.
I humored him with a weak smile.
He’d become quiet since this incident occurred, barely speaking at all. I understood why. He was the life of the group. The lighthearted member of the Bloodsworn. But there was nothing to be lighthearted about. These were serious times.
I couldn’t imagine anything worse for the stability of the kingdom at this time than having Wolfe locked away and in full Deathwalker form.
The past few days were just the start of our worries if we couldn’t get him back.
I looked ahead and drew in the still air. It wouldn’t clear my head, but Grandmother told me that practiced breathing when you were worried calmed the nervous system, telling it everything was okay. Even if that was a lie.
The closer we got to the gates, the more I understood why so many feared this place. There were whispers about it even in the mortal realm.
This was where you came when you committed a heinous crime to await a trial that determined your fate. The sentence was either imprisonment at Borkzan, a place where you’d stay until people forgot your name, or…death.
Those were the two main options. I’d braved asking Kaem about it last night after dinner. He’d said anything in between those options was just as bad.
He’d made it clear that the Citadel was a reminder that no matter who you were, you weren’t above the law.
The massive gates opened a heartbeat before we reached them, and luminous runes flared to life along the walls.
Inside, Fae guards dressed in golden armor flanked the doors, their expressions stern.
We continued down the path and took the wide stone steps leading into the building. Large wooden doors opened for us the same way as the gates.
Once inside, our footsteps echoed through a long, wide hallway with a ceiling so high it might as well not exist. Further along, we were met by two more guards. These were taller, warrior-build Fae males dressed in a gray uniform that bore the Royal Seal of Galaythia—the dragon.
"Weapons," the guard with the short-cropped hair demanded.
Kaem and the Bloodsworn surrendered their blades without argument. The guards examined them before placing each one inside a lockbox that snapped shut and disappeared.
“You will receive them once the trial is over,” the other guard informed us.
He spread his arms wide and a white light surrounded us. He then proceeded to examine us, his eyes moving up then down our bodies.
Once he was satisfied we posed no threat, he nodded to the other guard and the white light faded.
The door beside us opened.
“You may proceed,” the first guard said, gesturing for us to go inside.
We moved, walking into an enormous chamber with black marble floors and statues of former magistrates carved into the walls, their expressions forever frozen in stern judgment.
This was the Hall of Judgment.
This was where my husband’s fate would be decided.
Rows of stone benches descended toward a circular floor below, where an elevated dais rose, carved from black stone.
Twelve high-backed chairs sat upon it, each occupied by a Fae magistrate—six male, six female—all cloaked in silver and white robes.
Their faces were unreadable from this distance, but their presence weighed upon the room without question.
The seats before them held about thirty people. Kaem said they were representatives and subordinates of the High Table.
All eyes were on us as we proceeded, but I knew they were particularly interested in me—the half-mage, half-human girl who’d recently married into royalty.
Kaem guided us to sit in the front row. All except Bastian sat. He made his way to a lone seat situated closer to the magistrates.