35. Torn Thread #2
Besides the Jarlum and their Thanes, and the Hersir stationed about the room, there were only a few other witnesses. Maybe fifteen, at the most. Various officers of the court I didn’t have the ability to name in my current state. They murmured quietly to themselves at the Jarla’s declaration.
I swiveled my head and glossed over their nameless faces, until my gaze landed on one face I could name. A name which tasted like bitter ash on my tongue. He stepped up to the end of the table opposite from Trygg, a satisfied smirk plastered on his face.
“Lukas…” I breathed, fighting past the dryness in my mouth.
“Asvoria Falk of House Erling, High Queen of Volmere,” Vilke began, her voice unnervingly calm, “you come before the Jarlum accused of treason, and will stand trial this night. How do you plead?”
Treason.
The word clanged through me like a pebble tossed down a cliff.
Of course… That’s why Lukas seemed so smug when he’d come to see me.
He’d already told them everything I’d feared he would, spinning his tale of my infatuation with my Talons.
He wasn’t entirely wrong, but what I’d done wasn’t treason.
And looking at Trygg now, I had no regrets.
I knew I should say something, but my voice lodged in my throat. My mouth worked open and closed, unable to form any words, let alone any coherent thoughts. The Shadow seemed further away than ever as she floundered against my mind, the barest traces of panic trickling through the fog.
The clinking of iron chains drew my sluggish gaze. Though his face remained implacable, Trygg’s eyes burned silver across the distance separating us.
Say something, he said, his voice faint .
“How do you plead?” Vilke repeated, more forceful this time.
A scuffle broke out beside me, drawing the eyes of all the Jarlum. I tried to turn to look, but my movements were even more strained than before. A trickle of sweat traced down my neck.
Vilke’s eyes flicked to my left, irritation radiating from her entire being. Slowly, painfully, I followed her gaze. And there, in front of the onlookers, stood a few more Hersir, guarding another figure bound and chained like a common criminal.
“Freya Vilke,” Lenn growled, the clenching of his fists rattling his shackles, “you cannot allow this to continue. Look at her. Something is wrong.”
A scowl worked its way across Vilke’s severe features. Her dark eyes burned like hot coals as she stared at Lenn. “Silence, Thane Reijason,” she gritted out. “We will get to you soon enough. There is nothing wrong with her. I see only a young woman tongue-tied at being caught.”
What did she mean? They weren’t putting Lenn on trial too, were they?
“Treason…” The word slipped out of me several moments too late, but at least I’d found my voice again.
“I… am not guilty… of treason.” I panted with the effort of forcing out those few words.
The three Jarlum at the table eyed me sharply, as though they couldn’t believe I’d even try to defend myself.
“Even if that’s true,” Lenn continued, “shouldn’t you wait for Freyr Reynar to return before calling a Tribunal of this importance?”
Vilke’s heated gaze landed on my Thane once again. “It is not a requirement that every Jarl or Jarla be present for a Tribunal, even one for a queen.”
“Yet you would not call a conclave without him after the myrkva attack. Why is that, Vilke?”
“Hold your tongue, Thane Reijason!” she snapped. “The queen is not the only one on trial this evening. You speak very freely for a man whose fate hangs in the balance.”
He fell silent, staring hard between me and Trygg. Vilke turned her eyes to me. An icy shiver snaked across my skin.
“Step forward, Lord Aberg,” she said, “and state your claim.”
I watched with muted horror as Lukas walked the length of the table, stopping before his mother’s seat and gazing around the room. When he looked at me, he barely seemed able to contain his triumph. I wanted to scream.
“I present to the court my testimony,” he began, his voice ringing, “that I did bear witness to multiple instances of the queen’s indiscretions.
Even while she was betrothed to me, Queen Asvoria willfully encouraged and pursued inappropriate relations with her Talons.
” Barely stifled gasps rushed around the room.
“Even going so far as to break off our betrothal and take the one before you to her bed, which I was unfortunate enough to see firsthand.”
Hatred seeped into my chest as I looked at him and ground my teeth. He smiled in response, his gaze roving up and down my pitiful state.
“You…” I struggled to get the word out, my tongue flopping uselessly.
Lukas chuckled. “I hope you enjoyed your dinner, Asvoria,” he said, soft enough that none of the onlookers could hear him. Bile burned my throat.
Of course. The food.
My heart cracked in two as the realization rolled through me. They’d drugged my food to incapacitate me.
Lukas kept on smiling.
“Have you any proof of these claims?” a female voice called out, cutting through my thoughts. It was one I faintly recognized. Mistress Aleesha, perhaps?
Vilke looked to her right. “Freya Anja will confirm the truth,” she said, nodding.
Anja rose from her seat gracefully, gathering up her goldenrod skirts and rounding the table to walk toward me.
The entire diameter of the dome separated us.
An eternity passed before she crossed the distance.
Her figure wavered the closer she came, as though I viewed her from underwater.
She came to a stop an arm’s length away.
And though I couldn’t clearly make out her dark green eyes, I knew she was using her ability when her shoulders dropped and her stance relaxed.
Several silent, agonizing moments ticked by, in which I didn’t think anyone in the throne room breathed. I could only sit and wait, my legs going numb beneath me and my arms hanging limply at my side.
Anja sucked in a sharp breath, staggering back. She took a moment to steady herself, and said, “I have seen her memories, and her connection to the dragon prince. What Lord Aberg claims… is true.”
Unbridled fear shook through my chest. She’d seen the connection…
The thread connecting him to whichever of my spiritual cores he was attached to?
Or the strange bond between us that allowed us to communicate silently?
I fervently prayed it was the first. I was already in hot water—I didn’t need that fuel added to the fire as well.
Without another glance at me, Anja returned to her seat at the table. “There were several instances of impropriety, with both of her Talons. But the most grievous one occurred last night, where she did in fact take the dragon prince to her bed.”
Both Talons? What was she talking about?
I tried to wrack my mind for anything she might have misconstrued about Corbyn, the effort of wading through the fog bringing tears to my eyes. The only thing I thought she might have seen was that strange dream I’d had before the myrkva attack. They couldn’t hold that against me, could they?
“That’s…” I heaved in a breath, clutching the hem of my tunic forcefully. “Not both… not true.”
“You would accuse a Jarla of deceit?” Vilke asked. “Especially the honored Freya Anja?”
It was true that Anja had always been the kindest woman I’d ever known, and the Flossers of Clan Kjaer were dedicated to divinity and truth above all else. She wouldn’t lie. No, she must have been confused. If only I could explain that it was no more than a dream, then maybe I could make them see.
But of course… that was the point. They’d drugged my food to keep me from defending myself. Muted anger sparked within me.
And simmering beneath the surface, the Shadow reared up, a little stronger than before.
Slowly, I shook my head. “No,” I croaked out.
“Freya Vilke, please!” It was Lenn again, his voice sounding desperate. “Surely you can see the queen is suffering some malady. Allow me to inspect her?—”
“You will not,” Vilke snapped, gritting her teeth. “She is coherent enough to respond and answer questions. The Tribunal will continue forward.”
“There was something else,” Freya Anja said, her soft voice cutting through the tension and drawing a stillness to the room.
I tried to focus my gaze on her, but my vision swam with rippling waves.
“I saw another memory. The queen was in the library with Talon Arlbright… and a creature I cannot name.”
“What kind of creature?” Vilke asked.
No… I hadn’t told the other Jarlum of the huathe’s existence. Only Anja, who’d Flossed the threads of my life and seen him attached to my throat. How ironic that it was the huathe’s throat I’d sliced with Trygg’s sword.
I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt now. She was lying to them all.
Anja’s voice wobbled as she answered. “A monster, Vilke… A monster with golden bird wings.”
“Golden feathers,” Vilke mused darkly. “Petra’s killer.”
“Wait,” I rasped, swaying on my knees. My thoughts clouded, unable to form into anything coherent. But I had to tell them—had to explain what happened in the library.
“What were they doing, Anja?” Vilke asked, ignoring me.
The other woman shook her head, hands clasped against her chest. “Just talking about Queen Petra… about killing her.”
The weight of every eye in the room bore down on me, crushing in its intensity. Trygg’s chains rattled noisily as they scraped against the slate floor. I winced at the sound, working my mouth to try and speak.
“That’s not true,” he hissed, giving voice to my slippery thoughts.
His voice slithered and echoed through the throne room.
Between the distance separating us and the haziness of my vision, it was hard to tell, but his eyes seemed more luminous than usual.
Silver stars burning hotly under his anger.
He had to be in quarter-Shift. I wondered if anyone else knew.
“Silence, nárithill !” Vilke spat.