Chapter 18
INQUIRY
FELíNE SLUMPED IN THE CORNER of her cell, knees pulled to her aching chest. Tears came unbidden. She couldn’t have stopped them if she cared to. She was numb. Totally unfeeling. Except for the ragged hole that wailed with every torturous beat of her bleeding heart.
Beaumont Stonehaugh did not return. She remained in wounded isolation, alone with the haunting consequences of her deceit, as silent rivulets descended the swell of her cheeks.
Felíne wasn’t sure how long she wept. She kept replaying Kal’s beautiful, haggard face in her mind. Watched as his warm onyx eyes leeched of affection. She saw her betrayal manifest in his features. How it warped them. Care twisted to contempt. Longing distorted to loathing.
This was what death felt like. She was sure of it. Only death possessed the kindness of oblivion. This torture was unending.
The soft sound of feet treading dirt reached Felíne’s ears in the depths of her misery.
She peeked up from her forearms and scrubbed at her face.
The sleeves of Kal’s sweater were stained with the wetness of her tears.
She could still smell the remnants of woodsmoke, whiskey, and something faintly leather-like.
The aroma’s familiarity sent a fresh wave of anguish crashing through her.
A man Felíne did not recognize stepped into view.
He was tall, with a shock of medium-length sandy hair, and sad chestnut eyes.
The man appeared middle-aged, with fine lines webbing the downturned edges of his lids and bracketing his mouth.
Despite his placid expression, Felíne believed his face to be one prone to easy smiles.
“Hello,” he said, crouching before her cell door. “My name is Saul Leino.”
Felíne sniffed and uncoiled herself. “Kitty.”
Saul Leino’s crow’s feet crinkled further at her introduction. “I am pleased to meet you, Kitty. Though I am told ‘Kitty’ is not your given name.”
Felíne dropped her gaze. “It’s the only name I can provide you.”
Saul hummed. “I’m afraid that leaves us in a bit of a predicament.”
When Felíne didn’t answer, Saul continued. “Kalevar told me of your escape from the capital city and briefly what transpired in Cindamar. The perplexing nature of your identity has caused considerable concern among our council. My associates are fearful you are a spy for the Asterosian crown.”
“I’m not a spy,” Felíne insisted. “I told Kal. I wasn’t lying.”
Saul’s somber eyes grew even more mournful, and Felíne knew what he would say before the words left his mouth. “And yet, you have lied a great deal since joining Kal’s company.”
Anger flickered beneath her pain, though she had no right to it. “I did not join his company; I was taken.”
Saul studied her. “You led Kal to believe you were Railah Harless.”
She stiffened. “I was afraid.”
“Even after learning Kal did not intend to harm you?”
Felíne frowned. “I know what this looks like. I know you have no reason to trust me. But I cannot tell you my name. I can only assure you that I have no intention of betraying Kalevar or any of you. I only wish to return home. I must return home.”
“To Asteros.”
Felíne nodded.
Saul sighed softly. “I am responsible for the well-being of thousands of shurii,” he said, and Felíne nearly laughed at the miserable irony. “You understand that I cannot simply release you and hope that you will not reveal what you have seen to the King and Queen of Asteros.”
“Then what will you do with me?”
Saul regarded her. “I would have you prove your innocence.”
Felíne was quiet for a breath before speaking. “The inquiry.”
Saul dipped his chin, serious.
“And this entails what, exactly?”
“A trial,” he said.
Was he joking? “How is that impartial? You would have me tried by a committee of people who already believe me guilty?”
“Not that kind of trial,” Saul clarified.
“Meress welcomes people from all walks of life. We have provided refuge for countless shurii possessing less-than-savory backgrounds, many of whom do not wish to divulge the deep sources of their personal torments. But we must have a way to establish credibility among these people, lest we risk discovery and subsequent ruin.”
“I don’t understand,” Felíne said.
“Anyone wishing to remain in Meress must prove themselves trustworthy. You must demonstrate your innocence, the purity of your intentions, by completing a trial.”
Trade Master Grisham’s scales, their pans balanced between ivory and obsidian stones, flashed in her memory. “What would you have me do?”
“First, you must choose your trial,” Saul said with a slight smile.
Felíne’s eyes widened in disbelief. “I get to choose?”
“To an extent,” he replied. “You have the option to submit to a verbal inquiry by the Conclave or…” Here, he hesitated.
“Or what?”
“You can opt for a physical trial.”
Felíne’s expression grew guarded. There had to be some catch. The verbal inquiry couldn’t be as simple as answering a few questions. She voiced as much.
The corners of his mouth tipped up, betraying his amusement at her deduction. “You would be required to ingest a dose of integris prior to the inquiry.”
Felíne’s lips parted. Integris was a tincture made from an exceedingly rare herb.
The process was painstaking, taking months and leaving little room for error, with potentially disastrous consequences.
However, once effectively compounded, integris gifted its wielder with a potent means of extracting the truth from whoever ingested it.
Two drops of the tincture under the tongue were powerful enough to make a mute man speak.
Any posed question would be met with an honest answer.
“And the alternative?” Felíne asked. There was no way she could risk ingesting integris. “What does the physical trial entail?”
Saul sobered, smile fading. “I would not recommend it.”
Felíne waited for him to explain.
“Very well,” Saul said, upon realizing she would not be dissuaded.
“You would be required to face an adversary of the Conclave’s choosing.
If you survive, you will have proven yourself and retain the right to keep your secrets.
The few who choose the physical trial often find that willingly facing death and escaping its clutches solidifies any wavering loyalties. ”
If she survived? “What kind of adversary?”
“The undisclosed kind.”
Fine. “Would I be permitted a weapon?”
Saul inclined his head. “Yes. One of your choosing.”
“How long do I have to survive?” Gods, this was surreal. Felíne couldn’t believe she was having this conversation.
“It is different for everyone,” Saul said. His downturned chestnut eyes assessed her. “For you? I think ten minutes against a single adversary would suffice. Though the decision requires the Conclave’s approval.”
Felíne hesitated. She was at a serious disadvantage. But she couldn’t reveal her identity. Integris was out of the question. She had minimal skill with her only weapon, but she was relatively quick on her feet. She could survive ten minutes. Couldn’t she?
“What did Kal choose?” The question escaped her unbidden.
“The physical trial.”
Of course, he did. “How long did he have to survive?”
“Three days,” Saul answered, and Felíne balked. “Though I wish he had chosen the verbal inquiry. We wasted many lives testing Kal’s loyalty.”
Divine mercy.
“I suppose we are better for it,” Saul mused.
“Meress gained an invaluable ally in Kalevar Kaine.” His patient gaze rested upon Felíne once more.
“As I said, I recommend the verbal inquiry. Answer the Conclave’s questions, and you will be free to go.
Surely, whatever secrets you harbor cannot be worth potentially forfeiting your life? ”
Oh, how little he knew. If Felíne handed over her identity to the leaders of the Cozened, her life would be forfeit anyway.
She’d never return home, and they would all be doomed regardless.
Stubborn courage steeled her spine, infusing her with a fool’s confidence.
“I choose the physical trial,” Felíne said.
Saul sighed but bowed his head in resignation. “Very well.”