Chapter 26
Pixie on Trial
TWO WEEKS LATER
When Ash said I’d have to meet with the magistrate in Boston, I imagined a human courtroom like I visited the time I had to appear for jury duty back in Washington.
But the room we’re in feels more like a royal chamber, and it’s inside a small estate that could easily be confused for a modest castle.
The fate of my tea shop rests in the hands of an elemental elf I’ve never met before. Alvertos Athelstan Brandyboar wears a respectable three-piece suit and a distracted sort of expression that makes me think he’s pondering what he’s going to have for lunch as soon as we’re finished.
The magistrate doesn’t sit at a bench like a judge, but atop a seat that looks suspiciously like a throne.
The ostentatious chair is elevated on a stage-like dais, so the elf sits higher than the rest of the people in attendance, lest we forget he’s the most important person here.
There’s even a plush, cream-colored carpet runner that bisects the entire hall, leading to the throne.
It’s all very royal, pretentious, and undeniably elven.
I’m seated at a long table at the base of the stairs, with Ash by my side. The representatives from the Fae Preservation Society sit next to us. Keith, Elias, and a high fae I haven’t met, whom Ash told me is the society’s director, all showed up for the grand occasion.
Rowan watches from the side gallery seats, along with my parents and Ryder. Nadine stayed behind to watch the tea shop, but I have strict instructions to call her as soon as we’re done here.
You know, as long as I don’t end up in prison.
A mountain dwarf walks to the front of the room and taps a staff on the stone floor twice, sending a shockwave of magic throughout the space.
“Please bow for the honorable Alvertos Athelstan Brandyboar, Lord Magistrate of the Maplehaven Court, appointed to this esteemed position by His Majesty, King Kentowen Nigel Hawthorne.”
Thankfully, Ash went over all this with me earlier, so I know what to do. We stand as a group. The men bow at the waist, and the women bow their heads.
“Please sit,” His Greatness instructs, bored. To the society’s representative, he says, “Hello again, Bertrand.”
I exchange a look with Ash, somewhat comforted. It doesn’t sound like he’s terribly pleased to see the man.
“Your Honor,” the high fae director says, “it’s a pleasure, as always.”
“Yes.” With a heavy sigh, the magistrate begins, “I’ve gone over the material the Preservation Society has submitted, and it appears Miss Kathleen Merriweather failed to report gnome presence, a crime for which I’ve found her guilty.”
I suck in a startled breath, not expecting this to move so quickly—and in the wrong direction entirely.
“However,” he continues, “I have a few questions I’d like to ask before I dole out the sentence.”
“It’s all right,” Ash whispers to me under his breath. “We’re not done yet.”
“Miss Merriweather,” the magistrate says.
“Yes?” I squeak.
“One of the society’s inspectors found a lure in your tea garden. Were you aware it was there?”
“No, I had no idea.”
“You recently inherited the tea shop, is that correct?”
“Yes, at the beginning of the summer.”
“Did you see any sign of gnomes when you first arrived in Moss Hollow?”
“I did not.”
“When did you notice the gnomes?”
“A fellow shopkeeper’s young son spotted one a few weeks ago, climbing over the back wall.”
“What’s on the other side of the wall?”
“A public park.”
“Do humans frequent the park?”
“They do, sir. Moss Hollow caters to human tourists.”
“Even though you were aware of that, you didn’t contact the Preservation Society when you first discovered the gnomes’ presence?”
“Your Honor,” Ash interrupts. “If I may, Miss Merriweather has barely been scraping by since she arrived in town. Not only did she inherit a struggling business, but the roof is caving in, there’s extensive damage to the attic, and the stipulations of her aunt’s will have made it difficult for her to resurrect the property.
She neither maliciously nor willfully endangered the lives of the gnomes.
She simply didn’t know how to move forward and was pausing to assess her options. ”
I glance at Ash, not loving the picture of a flailing pixie he’s painting, even if it’s probably more accurate than I would like to admit.
“On top of that, we believe she was purposely sabotaged by an influential local who has repeatedly offered to buy the tea shop.”
“Yes,” the magistrate says. “I see here you requested a magic match be made on the lure.” He turns to the mountain dwarf, who’s waiting quietly in the corner with his staff. “Jeremiah, please call in Mr. Eastwilden.”
I tense, terrified. I didn’t realize he’d be here today.
The smug leprechaun walks into the audience chamber, swinging his cane.
“Have a seat, Mr. Eastwilden,” the magistrate commands, gesturing to a chair facing his throne. “I have a few questions for you.”
“I’m more than happy to help, Your Honor. Upholding the law is a personal priority of mine.” He glances at me. “I think that everyone, no matter how unassuming or charming they might be, should be held responsible for their actions.”
“Yes,” the magistrate says, unimpressed. “Let’s begin. You were the one who notified the Preservation Society about the gnome presence at the Merriweather Tea Shop, correct?”
Mr. Eastwilden puffs up, feeling important. “Yes, Your Honor.”
“And how did you discover the gnomes?”
“I happened to see them one day while I was taking tea in the garden.”
I gasp at the outright lie, but Ash gestures for me to keep my mouth shut.
“So, you’ve been in the tea garden?” the magistrate says.
“Yes, of course.”
“While you were in the garden, did you nestle a gnome lure into a flowering spirea?”
Mr. Eastwilden blinks. “I’m sorry?”
“An inspector discovered a gnome lure on the property. Miss Merriweather’s lawyer has requested a magic match, which we have granted. That’s why you’re here.”
The leprechaun suddenly looks very nervous. I hold my breath, wondering how he’s going to try to get out of this.
“You have no grounds to accuse me of such a thing!” he objects.
“It seems Mr. Neilfellow has unearthed an interesting town history,” the magistrate says, sounding marginally less bored.
“Gnome sign was recorded in Fae Preservation Society records before you purchased the property for your microbrewery. You had to sign an agreement with the society that you wouldn’t begin construction until they moved on.
Fortuitously, they left within a week of your purchase. ”
The man sputters, “I don’t know what that has to do with anything!”
“Perhaps nothing. But it is a strange coincidence, don’t you think? Either way, a quick magic match will tell us all we need to know. If you’ll please follow Jeremiah into the side room, he will conduct the test.”
“This is ridiculous.” Mr. Eastwilden rises, so agitated he nearly knocks over his chair. “I didn’t agree to this. I came as a witness, not a criminal.”
“You are under my jurisdiction,” the magistrate says, his tone sharp and unyielding. “You will comply.”
“I will not!”
“Then you will be arrested,” the elf says sharply. “Please follow Jeremiah.”
The leprechaun stands at his full height, looking livid. He casts me a dark look and then marches toward the waiting dwarf.
With a soft thud, the door closes behind them.
“It won’t take long,” the magistrate assures us, adjusting his position on the throne.
We sit in uncomfortable silence for five solid minutes, and then the door opens, and the mountain dwarf emerges. “It was a match, Your Honor.”
Ash makes the most triumphant noise I’ve ever heard, but it’s quiet enough that I’m sure I’m the only one to notice it.
“Please tell the rangers outside the door to take Mr. Eastwilden into custody.”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
Moments later, two humorless high fae men drag Mr. Eastwilden from the side room, ignoring his indignant threats.
“You cannot do this to me!” he protests, fighting his escorts. “Do you have any idea who I am?”
“All right,” the magistrate says when the back doors shut with an ominous thud. “Where were we? Ah, Miss Kathleen.” He studies me, mouth in a thin line, tapping his fingers on the arm of his throne. “You have had a rough few months, haven’t you?”
I don’t know how to answer, so I offer him a weak smile.
He clucks his tongue several times, thinking. “These are unusual circumstances indeed.”
“Your Honor, if I may, Kathleen and I would like to offer a potential resolution,” Ash says.
“Please, go ahead.”
“Along with the tea shop, Kathleen has inherited a half-acre of forested property in a rural section of the town. She would like to create a gnome sanctuary in her backyard. If you find it acceptable, we would be grateful if you would consider that as compensation for the mistakes she made in her dealings with the gnomes.”
The elf nods. “You propose a relocation, then?”
“The gnomes are in danger in the tea shop garden,” Ash says gravely. “Yes, the garden itself is quaint and safe, but the route to get there is not. We believe it’s in the gnomes’ best interests to be relocated.”
“Do you have any objections to Miss Merriweather’s proposal?” the magistrate asks the society’s director.
“I find the proposal satisfactory—but Miss Merriweather will have to agree to frequent inspections to ensure the gnomes’ safety.”
“Do you agree to that, Miss Merriweather?”
I glance at Ash, and he gives me a subtle nod.
Though I don’t love the idea of society inspectors showing up at the cottage randomly, it’s far better than going to a fae prison. “I do.”
“Very well. I rule that you will work with the society to create a small gnome haven on your personal property. We will meet again in three months, where you and the society will update me on the relocation process.”
“And the tea shop, Your Honor?” Ash asks.
I swear I feel my loved ones hold their breath right along with me.
“It may remain open.” The magistrate stands, smiles, and walks out the side door.
It’s over.
I slouch in my seat, feeling like every bone in my body just turned to jelly.
“Congratulations, Kit,” Ash says. “You secured an exemplary lawyer.”
I laugh, feeling giddy. “Thank you for everything. I’d be in jail if it weren’t for you.”
He lifts a blond brow. “Are you having second thoughts? Decided you might fancy a lawyer?”
“Sorry, no.”
That ship has sailed, and it didn’t return to the harbor after we dissolved the bond. My heart belongs to Rowan.
Ash chuckles, in a good mood thanks to the successful hearing. “Your loss.”
Rowan rushes from the gallery, pulling me into a tight hug. “You did it.”
“I did it,” Ash says blandly.
“Mr. Eastwilden really did try to sabotage me.” I shudder. “What an awful man.”
“You won’t have to deal with him for some time—if ever,” Ash says ominously. “Not only did he use an illegal lure, but he also lied to the king’s magistrate. I imagine he will be away from town for a long while.”
“Your mother will be overjoyed,” Rowan deadpans.
Ash studies his cousin. “Have you two talked yet?”
“Some,” Rowan says heavily. “She swears she believed hiding my heritage would give me more opportunities later in life and refuses to believe she did anything wrong.”
The whole situation is uncomfortable and sad, and I honestly don’t know how Rowan is going to get past it. But no matter what, he has me. If he decides to rebuild a relationship with his aunt, I’ll be here. And if he doesn’t, I’ll still be here. He won’t journey the path alone.
Elias walks over, greeting us with a solemn nod. “We’ll be in touch to discuss your new gnome sanctuary, Miss Merriweather. Until we’ve successfully relocated all the gnomes, please keep humans from entering the tea garden.”
“Of course,” I tell him, happy to be accommodating now.
The society members leave, and Rowan turns to me. “Well, that is that. How do you feel?”
“Like I barely dodged a gnome-shaped bullet.” I laugh, so relieved. “Let’s go home.”