Vhalla opened her eyes weakly and dared to find the man whom she was said to have attempted to kill. Aldrik sat unmoving; he may as well have been carved from stone.

“How do you cry?”

Vhalla’s world slowed as she waited for the prince to make a movement. She wanted him to stand, to smile, to tell Egmun he was wrong. But Aldrik did nothing.

Vhalla thought about the idea of pleading guilty. They would kill her and this would all end. All the pain that her body and mind were steeped in would be gone. There would be no more choices, no more princes, and no more senators. If she was lucky, they would make this temporary prison her tomb, striking her down before she returned to the cell with Rat and Mole. Vhalla closed her eyes with a sigh, taking a ragged breath.

“Vhalla Yarl, how do you cry?” Egmun repeated.

No, Vhalla sat straighter, pulling her shoulders back despite the pain of the irons around her wrists. If she was to be judged, then let her be judged by the ones who she had wronged. Aldrik’s eyes glittered with a barely contained inferno. She would endure his judgment, and Roan’s, and someday Sareem’s. Vhalla may have been a sheltered library girl and she may be a yet-realized sorcerer, but she would not allow Egmun—or anyone—to turn her into a coward.

“Not guilty.” Her voice was raw. Vhalla turned to Egmun and his mouth twisted in annoyance. “Senators, I cry not guilty.”

THE REST OF the first trial day was spent detailing her crimes and explaining how the verdict would be reached. The next day would be the start of evidence, people speaking on her behalf, witnesses, and testimony on the Senate’s side. Vhalla wondered if Aldrik would be speaking for her; he was the only true witness she could think of. The third day Vhalla would answer their questions and speak for herself. Then, the last day, she would not be present until they had reached their verdict.

“Vhalla Yarl, it has been determined that you woke as a sorcerer months ago,” Egmun started. Vhalla felt her mouth drop open. “In this time, you have not reported to the Tower of the Sorcerers for training and restriction. Nor have you been Eradicated, allowing your powers to run wild and dangerous.

“In doing so, these powers have progressed so far that they have destroyed public property and likely contributed to the death of multiple citizens.”

A chill ran down her spine. The death of multiple citizens? She’d killed someone? Blood dripped down her neck from her head and oozed from the wound in her shoulder as she struggled to find some memory that would make the senator’s words truth.

“Some also consider your powers to be a form of heresy against the Mother,” Egmun continued.

“There’s a reason why we killed them all!” a Western senator shouted. “They’re twisted, evil. Give it to the Knights of Jadar, they will know what to do!” He was on his feet raging at Vhalla.

She looked at him numbly.

“Silence!” Emperor’s voice echoed across the room. “Head Elect, please continue.”

“This almost pales in comparison to an attempt on the life of the future Emperor Solaris, an attempted murder on our Crown Prince Aldrik.” Egmun gave a small bow in the direction of the prince.

Aldrik’s expression remained unchanged. Pain and fury were burning in the aura around him, but his eyes had a restrained coolness in the brief moments he allowed himself to glance at her. Whatever the truth was, he did not really think she had attempted to harm him.

But what had happened? She was on trial for a whole list of things. These men and women looked at her as though she was a rabid animal. The hatred she was drawing strength from was still strong, but her spine was weak and began to curl as tears fell from her cheeks.

They were talking again, arguing over this or that but all it sounded like noise to Vhalla’s ringing ears. She was tired. These people clearly did not care what happened to her. No, they cared, but what they cared about was seeing her dead.

Vhalla opened her eyes and looked at Aldrik, his head had turned slightly to listen to whatever discussion was now occurring, but he took no part.

Vhalla wanted to blame him. Had it not been for him, none of this would have happened. If it wasn’t for him, her magical powers would’ve never Manifested, she would’ve never been involved with the Tower, and she would still be blissfully unaware of one senator’s name.

But Vhalla couldn’t blame him because she had been happy. For a moment she thought back to the night before, his arms around her waist. The memory was so perfect it almost broke her. Vhalla tried to mentally rejoin the conversation but it seemed to be wrapping up.

“The trial will commence at sunrise tomorrow then.” The Emperor looked to her. “We have already assembled a list of witnesses and people to speak. Is there anyone the prisoner would like to name on her behalf ?” He didn’t even use her name.

“My-my friend, she was alive when I found her. Her name is Roan.” There was a murmur through the senator’s benches at this. “Does-does she live? She’s known me a long time.” In truth, Vhalla wanted to know the answer to her question more than she wanted to demand Roan speak for her. Her friend likely, rightfully, wouldn’t have the warmest words about her presently.

The Emperor looked at his youngest son.

“I’m afraid I don’t know her status,” Baldair confessed.

Maybe she had only imagined hearing Roan’s shallow heartbeat.

“If this Roan is unable to give testimony, is there anyone else?” the Emperor asked.

Vhalla thought, swallowing more tears when she thought of Sareem and the glowing testimony he would’ve given her. Her mind filled with images of his crushed body.

“Master Mohned,” she choked out, struggling to keep the sobs that shook her shoulders at bay. The master would come for her.

“It shall be done.” The Emperor knocked his staff again three times and stood. The princes and senators following suit.

Vhalla didn’t try to stand again; she looked at the ground. Rat and Mole seemed to be content to assist her, wrenching her roughly to her feet in a way that wrung a small cry of agony. Vhalla’s head dipped forward, and her hair covered her face.

“This session is adjourned.”

Royalty left first and the senators began to stream out one by one as Vhalla was dragged back to the cells below.

After removing her shackles, Mole threw her back into her cell with a rough laugh. Vhalla fell to the floor like a rag doll and didn’t move, her energy expended. She heard the door slam behind her. Her body may not survive long enough to see the end of the trial. The darkness that crept behind her eyes had a heaviness to it that she’d never felt before. It wasn’t sleep her body craved, it was death.

Just as she was closing her eyes, Vhalla heard the echoes of boots down the stairs. For one heart-pounding moment she thought Egmun had come again to punish her for crying not guilty. But the walk was even heavier than his. Too heavy to be Aldrik and yet something about it sounded familiar. Vhalla heard the clink of the guards’ armor as they brought their right fist to their breastplate in salute.

“My prince!” Mole said, Rat echoed. Vhalla struggled to turn her head. Prince Baldair stood just beyond her cell door carrying a large box. His still wore a frown, and his brow was scrunched and lined.