Chapter 36 #2
“The story you want me to tell hurts Dark Witches,” I said. “You said you were tired of them being Everden’s punching bag, and so am I. I won’t be part of it. I get nothing out of lying. The reputation of every Dark Witch would suffer if I did. And it would be a risk. There were witnesses.”
“Oh?” Jaxan said, but it wasn’t a question. “You think the witnesses remember? Leland does as I say. Helen’s mind was emptied. So were the Aspirants’. You will tell the story I have laid out. It makes no difference to me if you lie willingly or if I make Helen Compel you.”
My eyes seethed at the sickening crease of his smile. There was nothing I could do about being Compelled.
This wasn’t over. I wasn’t okay with letting the Echelons’ corruption persist. But I knew who won if I tried to fight him on everything today. Jaxan.
“Fine,” I said, folding my arms tightly.
“But you’re not just asking me to lie. You’re asking me to sell it.
And I will, with something small in return.
And if you think I’m bluffing” — I was bluffing — “let me remind you I went into the Allwitch temple fully prepared to not come out, and I could just as easily stand on trial and act guilty, just to watch you suffer. I’m only cooperating if you give me something. ”
Jaxan’s brows pitched with intrigue. “You’re asking for a Deal?”
“Without a Death Bond,” I specified.
“Go on.”
By the time I left his office, Jaxan and I had a Dark Deal.
I would deliver his lie. Rye Cackrin’s Dark Witch coven was the Shadowrealm.
In return, Jaxan would remove the Death Bond that bound Leland to protect me.
I didn’t want to push it by asking for more, but at least Leland would be free of the Death Bond he hated most, and I felt fine — happy, even — to lie for it.
* * *
I headed up the grand stairway, on my way to what I hoped would be my final time at the accused’s table.
Stately doors swung open and closed, revealing a small but lively audience spread throughout the long rows of benches in the audience gallery.
White walls beamed under glaring spotlights, and at the end of the long aisle, the stern figures of the Council hovered over their high bench.
In Dashell Eldridge’s place sat his replacement, Sam Arefin.
Leland sat in the Truth-Teller’s designated seat at the end.
The lazy chatter and casual postures of those in the audience had a calming effect on me, even as my face heated from the attention. They wouldn’t be here if it was still illegal to associate with the half witch. At least I hoped not.
Aurora’s cold voice rang across the room, and I jerked my head up, realizing I was still standing by the doors. “Take your seat at the accused’s table.”
“Guess they don’t have showers in prison,” Case muttered as I strode down the long center aisle.
I turned to glare and glimpsed my aunt Sabrina crawling under one of the benches, everyone pretending not to notice. Aila and Ari were huddled close, seated between Trist and a joyfully waving Belinda. Loree read a text. Skye was in the front row, next to Rayne.
As soon as I took my seat at the white, rectangular table, the trial started.
Jaxan’s story was already circulating. The belief was I had rescued the Aspirants, and while I knew I didn’t, I had no intention of breaking the Dark Deal I’d made with Jaxan. Even if I had, there wasn’t an opportunity.
Helen used mental magic to prevent me from saying anything wrong.
Line after line was fed into my head, and I was Compelled to recite her words verbatim.
I hardly had time to process what I was saying, whether it was consistent with Jaxan’s instructions, but it must have been, because Leland took no exceptions.
Starvos listened gleefully as I spoke, his round face and warm, brown eyes lighting up as he nodded along serenely.
I thought it was going well, until they asked how I used my gift at the temple, and I wasn’t Compelled.
Helen sat back, as if she, too, wanted the answer. Velleza Luna leaned to her right and whispered something in Hector Ambrosia’s ear, and all eyes but Leland’s were trained on me, waiting.
My stomach clenched tight with wariness.
I briefly contemplated lying. Only, in that moment, with eight pairs of eyes staring down at me, I couldn’t remember a single gift to lie about, let alone a plausible one.
Admitting mine wasn’t an option, not without undermining everything I’d just said.
I struggled to think of a gift that made sense yet wouldn’t be considered useful. A gift they couldn’t ask me to prove.
The second hand ticked loudly on the wall clock.
Grown impatient, Case called out from the back of the room. “Just checking. Did everyone hear the question? Blackburn,” he called me out specifically, “where are we at with the ears working today? All good?”
I turned to glare, but Trist beat me to it, twisting in her seat to scold Case with a finger pressed firmly to her lips.
“Audience interruptions will not be tolerated,” Aurora declared, leaning forward for a closer study of Case, who she didn’t appear to recognize. “What is your affiliation with the half witch? Please provide your first and last name.”
“Shouldn’t we be more concerned with the witch on trial here?” he asked, his voice rising at the end of the question. “Please,” he said, insisting with a few impatient hand flicks, “let’s all get back to the proceeding.”
“To have an ounce of his daring,” mused Ydris.
“No. No. No,” Sam Arefin piped up. “This is not how it is done in our land. The rule is that a witch’s gift is never disclosed. She should not have to answer this.” He looked visibly sickened to have to listen to it.
Starvos cleared his throat extensively. “If I may,” he said, after several minutes of his loud throat clearing caused everyone to forget about Case.
“I would like to raise a question for consideration. Would it not be wiser to ask why she used her gift? Say, for example, she used some type of interplanar teleportation. Well, that would certainly get everyone out of the temple and back into Everden, and it would certainly be interesting, but what I find more interesting is that Ms. Blackburn didn’t use this gift to escape her dubious circumstances.
I believe we all remember her brand?” He paused to cough, holding up a finger to indicate he wasn’t finished.
“Water went down the wrong pipe,” he said, resuming fully recovered a minute later.
“Another example,” said Starvos, his mannerisms increasing in size and drama.
“Let’s say it was convincing. Then we must ask why she never convinced us she was innocent.
Eager as we are for answers, I believe we already know what is important.
Why Ms. Blackburn used her gift is nobler than how.
And as we all can see, she has used her gift for good.
Now, the weather is glorious in every jurisdiction.
Time has come for a verdict. And, if anyone cares to know what I think, I think the poor child deserves a reward. ”
Helen looked around at the line of numbly agreeing Echelons, her dark-brown eyes searching for someone to incense.
“Reward her?” she asked, attacking the idea.
“Reward her for what, Charley? Dozens of hardworking and loyal witches have been depriving themselves of sleep to locate what Ember uncovered by allowing herself to be kidnapped. We don’t reward witches for that. ”
“And why not?” said Starvos jauntily, his demeanor like a kid ready to be let out for recess. “A reward is good for the spirit! Reward her bravery. Reward her suffering. Reward her for showing up.”
“And what would be,” Helen asked tightly, “a reward she has merited?”
“Selection!” Starvos declared. “Time to put her probation period to bed. Let the girl drink spellcasting magic with the rest of her peers. This year, instead of next.”
“Absolutely not!” cried Helen.
“Helen,” Jaxan admonished. “These decisions must be reached by counsel.” He raised his hand, calling the vote. Privacy static blared through the room shortly thereafter.
I studied the wood grains in the white-washed table as the Council huddled to whisper, my stomach churning anxiously.
If my track record in Everden was anything to go by, in the end, my reward might be nothing more than a third strike and one less hand.
For trespassing the catacombs, for cutting bangs to hide my brand, or for anything else they felt like making an example of.
I had Jaxan’s vote, and I suppose that meant I had Helen’s, and I had Starvos’s, but everyone else . . .
I didn’t know.
I had to stop myself twice from looking at Leland.
My eyes were dying to tell him I didn’t want to be sent home before Selection, maybe not even after.
I forced myself to stare down at the table until I saw nothing else, until it started to move, the white-painted wood grains spiraling into a maze so tangled I couldn’t solve it. Then the static cleared.
My ears sharpened and my eyes refocused as I looked up at Starvos’s shining, round face, creased with a dozen bands of loose wrinkles stretching to accommodate his proud grin.
“Those in favor of clearing the half witch Ember Blackburn of all charges related to Blasphemy, Libel, and the Shadowrealm, please raise your right hand,” rang Aurora Gallatine’s voice of authority.
Hands lifted.
All hands, plus Sabrina’s, which I spotted upon turning to see who in the audience was responsible for the mismatched clapping.
“The half witch Ember Blackburn has proven her worth,” announced Jaxan.
When I turned back, I found Helen staring up at the ceiling with her jaw tightly clenched.
“In two days, she will attend Selection with the incoming first years. And she is permitted to drink the magic of her choosing at Selection.” Starvos winked, a conspiratorial twinkling suggesting I might choose his.
I felt a rush of relief. That made almost two fewer Death Bonds for Leland to worry about. Jaxan swore to get rid of the one for him to protect me, and once I was Selected in two days, Leland wouldn’t have to worry about the one tied to me making it to Selection either.
Somewhat bored, Aurora said, “Ydris, please remove her brand.”
A few seconds later, I reached up and felt the smooth skin of my forehead. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, happy I could finally pin my bangs away from my face now that all traces of the brand were gone.
Starvos rose from the bench. “If anyone needs me,” he said cheerily, “I will be in Creatus, conspiring with my fourth years to throw a small celebration.”
The rest of the Council filed out after him.
Skye rushed up to hug me from behind but pulled away quickly. “You do not smell like an almond croissant,” she said, her face scrunching.
I swung my hair to waft around my prison stench and watched her face change from a grimace to a grin. Then I jokingly chased her with my smell, all the way down the long aisle and out of the trial room.