34. Ash
Ash
After another agonizing hour of being assessed, I was forced to admit the unthinkable: Caspian was right.
Marching back to the estate with my sword drawn had already yielded a spectacular amount of nothing.
Plus, I really wasn’t in the mood to get my ass handed to me a second time by a dwarf who was half my size.
So, Calista had another idea.
We were going to do this the proper way.
Through the law.
We threw our things together and boarded the carriage Calista already had waiting outside.
Luckily, our destination was barely a few minutes away—just long enough for me to question every single life choice that had led me to a legal dispute.
Normally, my idea of dispute resolution involved wielding a very sharp sword, bruising my own knuckles, and avoiding the law at absolutely all costs..
But apparently, there was a first time for everything.
As soon as we stormed inside the Norwich Watchhouse, I registered three things in rapid succession.
First, the entire room was silent. Too silent.
Second, a man wearing an aggressively cheap purple suit was frantically waving his hands at a constable.
Calista marched in first, but she froze the moment she crossed the threshold. I plowed right into her back and a half-second later, Caspian slammed into me from behind, creating a spectacular three-person pileup of pure bewilderment. None of us moved. We just stared.
Because there, dominating the center of the room, was a six-foot-five, pastel-pink rabbit stuffed into a shockingly tight leather bouncer’s vest, its massive left hind foot thumping against the floorboards.
“I’m just saying, Officer, the warning label explicitly cautioned against consumption during bouts of rage!” the man wearing the purple suit shrieked.
“He didn’t consume it, you threw it at him!” yelled a sweaty guard holding a carrot at arm’s length, waving it frantically toward the pink monstrosity like a man trying to tame a dragon with a twig.
The giant bunny narrowed its ruby-red eyes, letting out a low, guttural growl that no bunny had any natural right making. It suddenly lunged forward and bit the carrot completely in half with a terrifying, definitive crunch.
A guard from behind the booking counter stepped out, the iron keys in his hand jingling. He pointed a heavy finger at the man in the garish purple suit. “Alchemist, you’re spending the night in the brigs—right after you release this unholy spell on the shopkeeper.”
The bunny’s foot thumped faster, harder.
The alchemist’s face visibly drained of color. “I... I can’t undo it. It’s an unstable brew. It must run its course for a full day, at least. Or maybe it was a week, I need to find it in my records...”
“Why in the Seven Hells would you even concoct a potion like that?” another guard muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.
The alchemist ran a trembling hand through his greasy hair.
“It’s an ancient blunder from my apprentice days. I just... forgot it was in the back of the cabinet.”
The rhythmic thumping of the giant bunny’s foot was suddenly cut short as the guard with the half-eaten carrot glanced up and caught sight of us.
He blinked once, twice, looking between my face, the massive sword at my hip, and the sheer we’re-not-here-to-chat energy we’d brought through the door.
The absolute chaos of the room instantly stalled.
The booking guard, still holding his iron keys, cleared his throat. He risked a glance at the giant, furious pink rabbit, then at the trembling alchemist, and finally back to where Calista and I stood blocking the only exit.
“Right,” the guard squeaked, and he gave us a strained smile. “You know what? Perhaps we can... relocate this discussion.”
He grabbed the alchemist by the collar of his cheap purple suit and gently poked the pastel-pink bouncer in the ribs with the remaining stub of the carrot.
“Moving along, now,” the guard muttered, shuffling them toward a side door. “Let’s head into the back room. Perhaps we can reach some sort of... peaceful municipal mediation where no one gets hurt, and we can wait out the next twenty-four hours in private.”
The bunny let out another low, vibrating hiss but allowed itself to be herded, its heavy leather vest creaking as it hopped past us. The alchemist just wandered along.
As the side door clicked shut behind them, leaving the main lobby suddenly eerily quiet, the remaining guard behind the counter reluctantly turned his attention to us.
“Can I help you?”
Calista stepped forward, her heeled boots clicking until she reached the booking counter.
“We’re here to report a grave crime.”
The guard swallowed, his eyes darting to my hand resting casually on the hilt of my blade before snapping back to Calista.
“A crime you say? Look, if it’s more unlicensed alchemy—”
“Worse,” Calista cut him off sharply, leaning in closer. “Right here in Norwich, there is a woman being forced into a marriage against her will. All to pay off a debt that was made years ago.”
I decided rather quickly that I admired Calista. She was terrifying in a way that made you want to stand behind her and watch the damage unfold.
Gods help anyone who found themselves on the wrong side of her.
Yet the guard behind the desk eyed her like a challenge. He leaned back in his chair, boots propped carelessly against the edge of the table, expression already dulled with disinterest.
“And what offense would that be?”
“Unlawful coercion of marriage and unlawful enforcement of a contract lacking mutual consent.”
That earned a small huff of amusement.
“From who?” he asked.
“Duke Halloway.”
The guard’s eyes narrowed.
“That’s a bold claim.”
“It is a heinous crime, indeed.”
“You’re asking me to believe that one of the most respected men in Norwich is forcing a woman into marriage.”
“I’m not asking you to believe anything,” Calista quipped. “I’m telling you to do your job and investigate.”
A few heads turned at that. I shifted my weight, jaw tightening. This was going exactly how I expected.
The guard leaned forward now, elbows on the desk, voice dropping low. “And what proof do you have?”
Calista placed a folded document on the table. “The contract itself. It requires fulfillment through marriage, but it does not grant him the right to enforce it without her consent. Additionally, this is illegal within Norwich jurisdiction. I’m sure you know that.”
He didn’t even reach for it. My blood simmered.
Caspian hadn't risked our necks breaking into a secure safe just for some lazy town guard to dismiss it. While I’d been busy trading blows with Garrick’s men in the foyer this morning, Caspian had shattered a side window, slipped inside, and stumbled right upon the contract sitting exposed on the bastard's desk.
“It’s likely that Duke Halloway’s advisors understand these nuances far better than—”
“I am an advocate of Norwich. I understand the law perfectly.”
The guard hesitated just for a second. Then he stroked his bushy mustache, like that would help him think more clearly.
“Even so, you’re making accusations against a man who has done more for this city than most.”
“And that places him above the law?”
“That makes your claim less likely.”
I scoffed under my breath, earning a glare from the guard.
Calista stepped in closer, one hand braced against the desk, her composure still perfectly intact.
But there was steel beneath it now.
“Unlikely does not mean impossible, and your refusal to investigate does not absolve you of responsibility.”
The guard’s jaw tightened. “Tread carefully, my lady.”
“On the contrary, you should be very careful, sir.”
The tension in the room thickened, stretched taut—
My attention snapped toward the window.
Orange.
“Do you see that?” another guard asked, stepping toward the window.
At first, no one responded. Then one of the guards stepped to the window, too.
“What the—”
Flames licked up into the sky beyond the rooftops, thick smoke curling into the air in dark, churning plumes.
The officer surged to his feet from behind the desk. “Where is that coming from?”
The guard near the door choked, “The farthest west side—that couldn’t be…Duke Halloway’s estate? Sir—it’s on fire!”