Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
The King’s Leisure
Satrine
As mentioned, I studied the newspapers from back to
front every day.
So it wasn’t a surprise when we arrived at the magistrate’s
court that there were throngs of people there.
It was such because this was the trial of the century, and
not simply because King Noctorno was gracing this
fair city to adjudicate it, and his queen had accompanied him.
But because a member of the aristocracy was standing to
defend his crimes, and the Newton paper (which, it had to be said, had a
liberal bent), was in fits of glee about it.
Thus, when we arrived, there were people lining the
pavements.
A lot of them.
There was also a massive police presence, in the form of
actual police, but also men in smart, navy-blue uniforms that had a half-cape
in admiral blue flipped over one shoulder (seriously, if I wasn’t so out of it,
I would have noted how totally cool these uniforms were and how Loren probably
looked super-hot wearing one). They wore admiral blue berets with short, sharp
feathers stuck in. Sabers at their belts.
And held long, silver spears in their hands.
Spears!
It had to be the royal guard that lined the sidewalk from
building to curb to keep the people back in order that we could get in.
And one could say, a spear was a good incentive to stay
back.
However, all of this just added weight to already weighty
proceedings.
As such, things were primed for people to lose their minds,
something they did with shouts and cheers, when our carriage doors opened—Mom,
Ansley and Aunt Mary’s in front, Loren’s and mine behind—and Ansley and Loren
alighted.
And it felt alarmingly like things would careen out of
control when Mom and I appeared.
Because the crowd…went…wild.
Fortunately, Madame Toussaint had outdone herself.
Mom was in a mulberry-colored confection with some shades of
mauve and heather in the feathers of her hat.
I was wearing a complementary color of a warm, wintery pink
with creamy accents.
Aunt Mary, as was her usual, was wearing all black.
I clutched Loren’s elbow, and he moved us swiftly, careful
not to be too swift so we wouldn’t trod on Mom’s train.
I was officially totally freaked out.
And as such, was making moves by rote.
Sure, the shrieking and shouts of, “The countess lives! Long
live the countess!” and “You can’t keep a good lady down!” were flipping my
shit so much it didn’t occur to me these shouts were positive.
Mostly, it was because Loren had been silent and remote the
entire ride there, and my heart was hammering in my chest so badly, I felt I
had to have a care not to exert myself so it wouldn’t explode.
I vaguely noticed Maitland and the two, tall, gorgeous dudes
standing with him at the top of the steps, one gorgeous dude having black hair,
the other having dark blond.
And I vaguely heard the clamor mute when we were inside, and
the doors were closed behind us.
I also vaguely felt Loren stop us and say formally, “Satrine, I wish to introduce you to two more of my
brothers. Ridley Middleton, the Earl of Hartley. And Ford Holton, the Duke of
Bloodworth.”
“How do you do,” I said stiffly.
They murmured in return, and I sensed Marlow startle at my
reply, but I was watching Mom disappear into a room at the same time fighting
back a smothering sense of dread.
“Sattie, love, it’ll be all
right,” I heard Marlow murmur comfortingly.
I lifted my gaze to him, noting then that my fiancé hadn’t
said anything to comfort me, not that first word.
And, like a robot, I nodded.
That was when Marlow began to look less startled, a hella lot more worried and a hella
lot more than that…pissed.
His attention jerked to Loren when he spoke.
“Let’s get in,” Loren said curtly.
It didn’t escape me his two friends were watching me with
acute interest.
But I was ready to move on, face whatever there was to face
in that court, and then face whatever was wrong with Loren, which was clearly
something he thought was wrong with me.
I mean, it wasn’t a shocker he’d finally figured it out.
Figured out I wasn’t right.
What was a shocker was that it took this long.
But as ever, if there was music to face, I’d face it.
I’d die in my bed in my room at Mom’s house, or wherever we
might be spending the night that night. I’d then learn how to exist without
truly existing tomorrow.
Such were these thoughts, I noticed only distantly that the
magistrate’s court looked more like a throne room, but with seats set in rows
for an audience.
Or maybe it was set up that way for King Noctorno,
who was on a dais sitting in a large, elaborate chair, Queen Cora next to him,
seated in an equally elaborate chair. Adding to this pomp and circumstance, the
other kings and queens were off to the side, lounging in their own extravagant
chairs.
Though, with them was a striking woman with red hair,
alabaster skin, and an emerald-green outfit and hat that rivaled (but didn’t
beat) Mom’s and my own.
Loren led me to where Mom was standing at the front row of
chairs. Ansley was at her side. Mary at her other side. Loren’s friends moved
to gather around us.
It struck me then that the packed room was not packed only
with rich people. There seemed a mix of grand to not-so-grand to normal outfits
declaring a mix of economic statuses.
Apparently in King Noctorno’s
realm, the aristocracy not only didn’t carry on blithely thinking they had the
run of the country. When they did something wrong, they also weren’t judged
privately, in the company of people they thought were their peers.
They were judged publicly in the company of all their peers.
Loren’s squeeze of my elbow reminded me to curtsy, which I
did, beside him as he executed a courtly bow.
And it was then, the din from outside rose again, this time
with jeers and boos.
Dad-not-Dad was arriving.
My throat closed in panic, my gaze found Mom’s, she was as
pale as I felt, and it all began.
It felt like a whirlwind. Like I was seeing it through a
flurry of snow, what was happening playing out in the center of a snow globe
I’d shaken like crazy.
Edgar came in, dressed to the nines, but with a guard on
either side, and some tall, slender man accompanying him.
They came to stand in front of the king and queen, just off
to the side, and another man joined them to the other side. He was the
opposition.
They didn’t have tables or papers or anything.
Edgar was going to stand trial.
Literally.
Fortunately, we didn’t have to stand while watching it.
We were told to sit. We sat.
Some guy in a uniform came forward and cried out a bunch of
stuff that eventually hit me was the litany of charges against Edgar, the only
one of which penetrating my haze was “conspiring the attempted murder of four
citizens of the realm and suspicion of murder of anonymous by burning!”
I fully came into the room when the uniform guy demanded,
“Now, sir, tell the king how you plead!”
And Dad-not-Dad bellowed, “Innocent!”
Aunt Mary, sitting between Mom and me (this wasn’t what I’d
want, but she’d horned in), reached out and took both our hands in both of hers
and held them together in her lap (okay, so maybe it was good Aunt Mary being
right there).
It was then Dad-not-Dad boomed, “This is utter rubbish!”
The slender guy at his side got closer with some urgency,
but Edgar stepped away from him and addressed Noctorno.
“This is a disgrace.”
“My lord, see to your client,” the king rumbled to the
slender guy.
He tried to do that, but Edgar sidestepped him again.
“I am a peer of your realm, sir,” he said to the king.
“Every person in this room is a peer of my realm,” Noctorno replied.
Well then.
There you go.
Dad seethed, “That’s frankly outrageous!”
“I suggest you collect yourself,” the king advised.
Dad-not-Dad swung a pointed finger our way and shouted,
“They aren’t even of this—”
I got tense.
I felt Mom’s hand jump.
I also felt Loren get tense beside me.
And Edgar started choking.
As in, a fit of coughing that was deep and guttural and hurt
just to hear. It did this to me, and I didn’t like the guy.
“Get him water,” the queen bid softly.
Someone rushed to Edgar with a glass of water, but he lashed
out, the tumbler went flying, water splashing all over the marble floor, the
glass shattering, and he’d gotten himself together enough to state, “I will be
heard! And they are liars! Swindlers! Frauds! They
do not even come from this—”
He started choking again, worse than before.
But something struck me when he did it this time.
Because…
Oh my gods.
Was this…?
I sat forward and looked toward Mom.
She sat forward and looked toward me.
We turned back to Edgar when he tried to force out, “They
are from a—”
Gasps all around, including from me, when a bubble of blood
bloomed from his mouth.
“My word,” Aunt Mary murmured in horror.
“Call a physician,” the king bid.
But Dad-not-Dad was now opening and closing his mouth, no
blood coming forth, however his eyes were bugging out.
I wondered if he was choking, but he stood still, calm(ish), and it hit me that he was moving his mouth like he
was trying to speak.
However, no words were coming out.
Holy shit.
Right, one thing was absolutely and undeniably certain.
I was never bringing that curse down on Mom and me. No way.
No how.
I wasn’t going to do it before.
But…yikes.
Another man approached Edgar. Dad-not-Dad allowed the man to
examine him, even clutched on to him, still appearing like he was trying to
talk.
In the end, the guy turned to Noctorno
and reported, “Elevated pulse, but that is all, Your Majesty. The coughing
brought the blood, I believe. But outside the curious fact he doesn’t seem to
be able to speak, I can find nothing wrong with him.”
“Thank you, and thus, we will proceed,” Noctorno
decreed.
Proceed?
After Dad-not-Dad coughed up blood and was struck mute?
“What?” I whispered.
“Do you wish to speak in your client’s defense?” the king
asked the man who came in with Edgar.
“I’m sorry, my king, but he didn’t allow me to know what
defense he wished to use. He wouldn’t speak of it, only asked me to accompany
him to advise should things look like they were not to go his way.”
Noctorno nodded and declared,
“Foolhardy and pompous, which is no surprise. It matters not, as we have
eye-witness statements, and a mountain of evidence, this was always a matter of
being a ceremonial proceeding. As such, you’ll hear my judgment, Mr. Dawes.”
Mr. Dawes?
Edgar didn’t miss the address, I knew, because he went
statue-still, attention riveted on the king.
Noctorno didn’t waste any time.
“You are found guilty of all counts, and as such, I strip
you of your title,” Noctorno proclaimed.
Dad-not-Dad sputtered nonverbally.
The room went wired.
“It remains held by Lady Corliss Dawes, Countess of
Derryman, until her death. It then will be held with her daughter, Satrine, to
be transferred down her line,” Noctorno went on.
Edgar kept sputtering, his face getting red, not with the
effort to speak, but fury.
“I strip you of all your lands, holdings and assets. By my
decree, these will be transferred into the name of the Countess of Derryman and
inherited down her line. I do this, save the amount it will cost to procure a
cottage of no more than three rooms in a region near our northern borders.”
At that part, Aunt Mary chuckled low and whispered, “Edgar
hates the north.” Pause then, “And northerners.” Pause and further, “And the
cold.” Pause and last, “And Lunwynians, and the north
is rife with diversity.”
“Plus, a small stipend for you to be clothed, fed and kept
warm,” the king continued. “Not to mention, a two hundred and fifty thousand
pound fine paid to my treasury. You will be secluded in this cottage for twenty
years, or until your death, after, of course, you serve a seven-year sentence
at my leisure.”
Since Edgar was Dad, I knew he was fifty-three. That meant
he’d be out at sixty. Which wasn’t old, but I had a feeling the king’s
“leisure” wouldn’t be leisurely for Edgar, so he probably would not come out
nearly as robust as when he went in.
“If word should be heard, or actions taken, that you have
connived to cause harm to any citizen of my realm or any other, for purposes of
vengeance, or any purpose at all,” Noctorno carried
on, “you will stand another trial. And if found guilty, your sentence will mean
you shall be hung by your neck until dead.”
Holy crap!
Dad-not-Dad stopped sputtering, moving, and lost all color
in his face.
“That’s all,” Noctorno said to
uniform guy. “He can start seeing to that now. And clear the room.”
People started moving. The place was an excited hum.
But Noctorno finished speaking,
looked right to Loren and nodded.
So I didn’t twitch even a muscle.
As constables and the king’s guard started shifting people
out, Mom asked, “Should we…leave? I mean, is that it?”
“We’re to stay, Corliss,” Ansley said.
At that comment, I looked to Loren.
He was not holding my hand. He was not asking me if I was
okay. He wasn’t appearing like he had any reaction to all that had just gone
down. He wasn’t even looking at me.
His gaze was aimed at the redhead that was sitting with the
other king and queens.
My skin felt cold.
So cold, my mind blanked at the extremes of it.
“Satrine.”
I stared at my lap and my hand covered in a cream, kid
leather glove sitting in it.
That hand not held in Loren’s.
“Satrine.”
Did he know?
Did he just suspect?
Or did the king tell him I was mad and a harridan besides,
and he wasn’t having his decorated soldier marry such a strange, foul woman?
Mom and Mary both squeezed my hand.
“Satrine!” Mom
snapped.
I turned to her.
But I said nothing because the king spoke, his deep voice
echoing in a now mostly empty room.
“Are you quite all right, madam?” he called.
Stiltedly, I turned my head to where he was looking.
And saw, sitting alone at the far back, the witch who had
brought us to this world.
And it was then my heart didn’t explode.
It rent in two.
Because it was then I knew.
That Loren knew.
Everything.