Chapter 8
The prince tried to pull down his blindfold, but Lady Justice shouted, “You may not see!”
He dropped his hands and sniffed, then passed his hand over his mouth. It was shaking.
Butterflies in her stomach, Magdala stood on unsteady legs and walked to the front of the room.
Her doubts rose with each echoing step. If she accused the prince, he would accuse her in return.
He was in the room, bloody, beside the bloodless body of a man she was threatening to kill moments before.
It was as though she held a knife to his neck, and he a blade to her femoral artery.
She had hoped snitching on the prince might force him to abdicate, to leave Elegy and go to Ashkendor, but she knew now that had been foolish. She wished she’d kept her mouth shut.
Lady Justice led her to a seat beside Asherton. Magdala had imagined she would sit across the room, a distance away, but she saw the devious wisdom in forcing the accuser to sit so close to the accused that they shared breath. It was much harder to lie like this.
“Tell on me and I’ll tell on you,” Ahserton’s voice hissed.
Magdala’s pulse pounded in her ears. “I’ll only tell the truth.”
“And so will I.”
Lady Justice covered Magdala’s eyes, and she was plunged into hot, scratchy darkness.
The examiner wasted no time. “Miss Devney, on the night of Julian’s murder, did you see the prince in the room with the body?”
She felt a tap on her leg, and Asherton muttered, “Truth for truth.”
“I saw a shadow …” Magdala said loudly.
“And it was the prince?”
“Well …”
Inches away, Asherton cleared his throat. Anxiety radiated from him, an electric current in the dark. It leeched into her, and she wrung her hands.
“Miss Devney?”
“I don’t know for sure,” she lied. “The figure fled out the doors. But it did look like him.”
“But you can’t be sure?”
Magdala’s body revolted against the lie.
She wanted to vomit, she wanted to weep.
Her eyes darted back and forth behind the blindfold.
If the prince spun the tale to her disadvantage, and she was convicted of the murder instead, they would execute her before the week’s end.
She would hang in the city square in this silly skirt and blouse.
Madly, she wondered if she should have worn something with a higher collar so the rope wouldn’t chafe her neck.
“Miss Devney, can you be sure?”
Was she willing to die for Julian? The man who threw her down the stairs? Who endangered her and threatened her? Her father’s favorite?
And even if she did want to sacrifice herself in the pursuit of truth for that spineless little weasel, what of her mother and father? The grief and disgrace would kill them.
Magdala didn’t know what she was going to say until the answer spilled out of her. “No,” she croaked.
Beside her, Asherton exhaled. Someone yelped; Angelonia, she suspected.
“But you said that you were certain. You said you saw his face.”
“I’m not sure now,” she said. “He’s not a remarkable-looking man.”
She’d already told two lies, so why not another?
Asherton chuckled, which niggled her.
“So you saw someone in the room, but you don’t know for sure it was the prince?”
“Yes.”
“And why were you in the room?”
“I was looking for Julian. Huxley Davenport told me to.”
This was her greatest shield and she knew it. If she went on Huxley’s orders, then it was perfectly natural for her to be in a dark room with Julian, and no one would question it.
“Very good, you may go.”
A rush of relief washed over Magdala, and the air returned to her lungs as Justice untied her blindfold. She hurried to her seat, shaky and a dragon’s weight lighter.
She glanced guiltily around at Huxley and Angelonia, but they were watching the prince with rapt attention.
“I think it is important to note at this moment,” the examiner said, “that Julian Davenport's death was not caused by the knife in his chest.”
The prince straightened. Huxley’s jaw fell open, and Angelonia gasped so dramatically she inhaled a rogue strand of Magdala’s hair.
Lady Justice held up both her hands and boomed, “SILENCE!”
The room hushed and the examiner continued. “The death doctor reported that a great quantity of water flowed out of the deceased’s lungs upon examination. Somehow, Julian Davenport died by drowning.”
Angelonia swooned and Huxley caught her, letting her head loll onto his shoulder. He fanned her with his hand. Magdala resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
“It is my belief,” the examiner continued, “that you, Your Highness, fought with Julian, as you have a history of doing since your years together at school. You forced his head into a basin until he drowned, and then you stabbed him to be sure he was dead.”
Asherton only hung his head.
“So,” the examiner said. “I ask again, were you not in that room?”
The prince hesitated. Magdala couldn’t understand why. She’d just covered for him, lied for him. If he said no, he could walk away.
He licked his lips, exhaled, and tried to pass his hand over his eyes, drawing it back when he remembered he was blindfolded.
“Please,” someone murmured. Magdala looked over her shoulder.
Behind her, alone in a long wooden pew, the valet sat as pale as a ghost, slowly shaking his head. Silently, his lips formed the words, “Please, please, please.”
“We fought earlier in the evening, and I went into the room, just trying to get away from the crowd and have some privacy, and I found Julian already dead,” the prince said.
Huxley ground his teeth.
“Liar,” Angelonia hissed.
“So how did a knife end up in Julian’s chest?” the examiner asked.
“I don’t know.”
“And you did not stab him?”
“I did not.”
“Liar, liar, liar,” Huxley mumbled, slamming his fist into the palm of his opposite hand.
“Could Zephyr Laminaria please come to the stand?” the examiner said.
The valet started, wide-eyed.
“Zephyr had nothing to do with it,” the prince said quickly. “He was already in the coach, waiting for me.”
Lady Justice stepped gracefully down into the aisle, took the valet’s hand, led him to the seat Magdala had just vacated, and covered his eyes. Asherton whispered something to him, and he bit back harshly, but Magdala couldn’t make out what they were saying.
“Zephyr,” the examiner said. “Where were you when Julian Davenport was killed?”
Zephyr shifted, turning his head toward Asherton as if he could see him. “I was summoning our coach.”
“And you did not see him fight with the deceased?”
Zephyr swallowed. “I did not see him kill anyone.”
“How long have you known the prince?” the judge asked.
“Since he was a child,” Zephyr said.
“And he lives with you at Elegy, does he not?”
“He does.”
“You raised him, essentially, did you not?”
Zephyr nodded.
“SPEAK!” Lady Justice barked.
“Yes,” Zephyr said.
“How is that possible?” the examiner asked. “You are not an elderly man?”
“I am older than I appear,” Zephyr replied.
“And so you and His Highness are close?” the examiner asked.
Zephyr hesitated.
“Well?” he prodded. “Are you?”
“I raised him,” Zephyr admitted. “From boyhood.”
“So, functionally, he is your son?”
“Not exactly ...” Zephyr fidgeted with the hem of his jacket. “I am more like a tutor, or a warden. Perhaps an exasperated uncle …”
“I do not think that this man’s testimony is reliable, due to his relationship with the accused,” the judge said.
The examiner objected quickly. “But I believe that he may know …”
“Nothing he says is reliable, and it is illegal to make a father testify against a child.”
“But he is not his father.”
“Close enough. Zephyr Laminaria is dismissed from testimony.”
As Lady Justice led Zephyr to his seat, his gaze never left Asherton. If this was how an exasperated uncle acted, Magdala thought, she would have liked to trade her father for one.
The examiner let out a long sigh. “Your Highness, how did you come by the blood on your clothes?”
“Have you not seen my face?” Asherton replied, brusque.
“So all of the blood on your clothes was your own?” the examiner persisted.
“It was a very severe beating,” Asherton gritted. “I believe he was trying to kill me.”
“That’s a lie!”
Magdala jumped. Angelonia had launched out of her seat and was leaning over the bench in front of her. “Julian would never do that! He was gentle! He was kind! He was not aggressive!”
Magdala’s arms tingled, and she recalled the sting of Julian’s fingers on her skin, the force of his arms throwing her down the stairs. She still had bruises hidden under her clothes. Surely, Angelonia knew what kind of man he had become?
“I did not murder Julian Davenport,” the prince said. “But I believe that he meant to, and nearly did, murder me.”
“Asherton didn’t have the strength to murder anyone!” Zephyr shouted, jumping to his feet. “He was broken! Bleeding! Two days later, he was still confined to his bed. How could he overcome and kill a man of Julian’s size and physical capabilities after such a beating?”
The prince pulled his head back slightly, like he was offended. He wasn’t a small man, and Magdala guessed he could do some damage, if pressed.
“Sit down!” Lady Justice shouted.
“NO! This is absurd! Julian attacked the crown prince of Allagesh. Had he not been murdered a few moments later, he would be on trial right now, and he would be hanged for his crimes!”
Now Huxley was on his feet, bellowing, “Julian beat him as the prince drowned him to death!”
“That’s mad!” Zephyr shouted back. “What water? His clothes were dry.”
“Perhaps he moved the body.”
“How could he move the body? When I found him, he was barely able to stand!”
The room erupted. Every member of the royal guard was yelling, everyone on their feet. Lady Justice fought her way down the aisle, grabbed Zephyr, and dragged him from the room as he hurled curses at them, his heels squealing on the floor.
The doors opened, late afternoon sunlight blinding them, then slammed shut in Zephyr’s face.
The room calmed, everyone sitting down under a hum of tense conversation.
Angelonia alone remained on her feet, tall and stately.
A light shone in through a high window and touched her pale hair.
It shone, halo-like, in the dark room, and she glowed like a saint bereft.
“I have determined,” the judge said, “that there is not sufficient evidence to convict anyone of the murder at this time.”
Everyone gasped in unison. Asherton dropped his head back and let out a long exhale.
“The prince is to return to Elegy. He will remain there, in exile, until his twenty-first birthday, when he will ascend the throne and all charges or suspicions will be laid to rest. If he admits to the crime or if there is definitive evidence, then he will be required to abdicate and shall be sent away from Allagesh and all Allageshan lands.”
Angelonia let out a shrieking sob and covered her face with her hands. The prince leaned forward and rested his head on the railing.
“There is no justice in this place!” Angelonia wailed.
Huxley stood beside her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, stepping on Magdala’s foot as he did. “And what of this woman?” he cried. “She has lost everything. How could you possibly deny her peace?”
But the judge had already removed his blindfold and slipped out the door behind the bench.
“Julian deserves justice!” someone shouted.
The room surged again as Lady Justice escorted the prince out the back door.
Magdala pressed her back against the cold wooden bench as the royal guards screamed, swore, shook their fists at nothing, at no one.
Huxley supported Angelonia and steered her from the courtroom, leaving Magdala to fight her way out of the chaos alone.