… Fuck.

  Had I really just said that? I needed to get a damned grip on this emotional teenager thing.

  Cael struggled to rise, fighting against the guards, only to be forced back to his knees. “Princess, don’t you fucking dare!”

  Too late.

  There was no way to take it back, not if I wanted to keep Cael alive. My only way forwards was to keep pushing.

  I ignored Cael’s outburst and sneered arrogantly at the Councillor. “Well? Will that satisfy you? Or are you afraid I might prove just how incompetent you really are?”

  Councillor Raleigh had gone stiff, his bloodless lips drawn back in a rictus snarl in his blotchy red face. “If you believe, even for a moment, that anyone here is impressed by your idiotic theatrics, you upstart little—”

  “I’ll allow it.” King Roland declared, cutting him off.

  “Your Majesty!” The shithead gaped at the king. “To allow this… this child to overturn a royal proclamation with such a blatant display of disrespect…” He shook his head. “The condemned has been tried and sentenced, and I can confirm he is no wronged innocent. Allowing this farce to proceed would set a dangerous precedent.”

  King Roland smiled enigmatically. “The young Earl has passion and determination, impressive qualities in one so young. I’m curious to see if he has the instincts and cunning to back them, or if all he has is empty words and dumb luck.”

  The councillor looked like he’d bitten into a lemon. “As you wish, your Majesty.”

  ”Come now, Councillor,” the king said, clapping him on the back. “Let the boy try to prove himself. If he fails, I will have my answer, and Illestria will have her justice.”

  “… If that is your decision, your Majesty. I’ll … abide by it.”

  “Then the terms are set!” The king’s announcement echoed through the silent throne room. The entire court seemed entranced by the unfolding spectacle. “I will act as final arbitrator. You may each choose an arbiter to advise me. Councillor?”

  If looks could kill, Raleigh’s glance would have left me splattered across the nearest wall. “Dowager Countess Mayne, your Majesty.”

  There was some muttering and raised eyebrows among the assembled nobility. A few people near the front shuffled aside, revealing a tiny old lady in a sombre dress and rich furs, supporting herself with a cane.

  “Countess Mayne, will you accept this charge?”

  She glared at me like I was a piece of dog shit she’d just stepped in. “I will, your Majesty.”

  “And you, ‘Princess?’” Councillor Dickwad asked with a contemptuous sneer. “Who is it you’ll cower behind?”

  I froze, not moving a muscle and stared at him in cold, stony silence. His supercilious smirk slowly fell away as the silence stretched, growing more awkward with every passing second.

  Just as he opened his mouth to break the stillness, I hissed. “Only one person here has earned the right to refer to me by that name. And. It. Is. Not. You.”

  I let the silence stretch for another couple of heartbeats before I broke eye contact with a disdainful sniff.

  “Earl Dusk, your choice,” King Roland prompted, the amused twitch of his lips giving lie to his somber tone.

  “I choose…”

  Hells.

  I bit my lip. The only people I knew well enough to pick were my brothers and my apparently not-so-ex-fiancée, none of whom felt like smart choices.

  Tempest’s smooth, cool voice floated through our audience. “We choose Lord Battleaxe.”

  Wait… really? There was a person here named godsdamned ‘Battleaxe?’ And Els had bitched about ‘Violet?!’

  At the king’ nod, Tempest stepped past the guards and stood beside me, offering the king a smooth bow.

  I shot him a grateful smile.

  King Roland quirked an eyebrow at me. “Is that right, Earl Dusk?”

  “Yes, your Majesty.” I agreed quickly. Shitty name or not, it wasn’t like I had any better options.

  This time, the assembled horde of nobility split like the tide surging around a cliff, and stared as one body at a tall, muscular older man who was slouched against the rear wall. I could have sworn some of them were holding their breath.

  The baron looked like someone had forced him into his finery at knifepoint, then threatened him with something gruesome to get him here. The name suited him — he looked like he would rather be beheading people on a battlefield.

  He also looked absolutely furious to have been singled out. The red-hot glower he shot my brother suggested he’d like nothing more than to throttle him.

  Tempest smiled cheerfully and waved.

  “Do you accept this charge, Baron Amberhill?” King Roland asked loudly, amusement absolutely dripping from his voice.

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  Or it was a nickname, and I was an idiot.

  The guy was silent for a few moments while he tried to telepathically skewer my brother, but in the end, he sighed. “I accept,” he growled.

  The assembled court let out a relieved sigh.

  “Then we have an accord.” With a swish of his cloak, the king stepped back up on his dais and sat in his stately throne, every bit an imposing ruler once again. He stared down at me, his face impassive. “Kneel, Earl Dusk.”

  I obeyed. Earlier, I had been impressed by how plush the carpet felt. Now, I was acutely aware of the cold, hard marble floor beneath it.

  “Earl Violet Dusk. I sentence you to death. Your sentence will be suspended for a year and a day, during which you will be allowed to make your case. If you succeed, Councillor Raleigh will withdraw his objections. If you fail, you will be executed alongside the prisoner. Do not disappoint me.”

  I bowed my head. “Thank you, your Majesty.”

  “Cael Mattis.” King Roland paused, as if contemplating my friend. I tilted my head slightly, not yet looking up but watching Cael from the corner of my eye. “You face the sentence of death for the crime of slavery. Countless souls are either dead or worse due to your actions.”

  Cael flinched, his head down and eyes locked on his manacled hands resting in his lap.

  “You have earned your fate. Yet Earl Dusk has pled for your life in the belief that you may yet redeem yourself. Your sentence shall be suspended for a year and a day. I remand you to the Earl’s custody and bind you to his service.”

  Behind me, a flurry of shocked whispers ran through the crowd.

  “If you succeed in proving that your life is worth sparing, I will grant the Earl’s request for clemency. Fail, and your sentence shall be carried out as it stands.” His voice held a ring of finality as it cut through the murmurs. “Please rise, Earl Dusk.”

  I tried to comply.

  As I began to rise, the throne room seemed to twist around me. I stumbled a half step sideways, my world tilting. Someone barely caught me before I hit the floor.

  I blinked, and Tempest’s worried face swum into focus as he lowered me to the ground. His cool hand slid over my forehead and he hissed, his eyes going wide.

  Shit. My fever was back. Dealing with Lord Dick-for-brains must have been more than I could handle, even with the double dose.

  “Is he well?”

  Turning my head slightly, I could see the king had taken a startled step off his dais, his face worried. Even Prince Victor was half out of his seat, his face pale.

  Tempest bowed his head from his crouched position. “My brother only awoke from his fever yesterday and is still recovering.”

  The king frowned. “You should have sent word, Councillor Dusk.”

  “My apologies, your Majesty,” Tempest replied, his voice calm. “He was insistent that you shouldn’t be left to wait upon him. He would not have allowed me to delay for something as paltry as his health.”

  Smooth bastard. Way to make fainting look good.

  King Roland still looked somewhat unhappy with the disruption, but nodded. “Then we can proceed another time. Make an appointment with my secretary.”

  “No, your Majesty. I’ll be fine,” I insisted, ignoring the slight slurring of my voice. I struggled to my feet before anyone could protest. I was not leaving Cael to rot in a dungeon any longer.

  Tempest kindly let me use him as support until I was able to stand on my own, only swaying slightly. “I would like to finish this up now, If you’ll allow it.” I didn't try to bow this time. I wasn’t sure I could keep myself from faceplanting into the carpet.

  “If you’re certain, Earl Dusk.” The king looked dubious, but he motioned to one of the court functionaries standing attentively at the edge of the throne room.

  A young lady stepped smartly forwards, opening a leather folio and presenting me with a single-page document neatly laid out inside, along with a single fountain pen.

  … Damn. His Majesty was scarily well prepared.

  Or this was the bastard’s plan all along.

  My hand shook as I picked the pen up. I tried to read the paper, but the tiny, elegant writing swam in and out of focus. All I could tell was that it looked like a contract, with spaces for three signatures.

  Tempest stepped up beside me and scanned it over my shoulder. He nodded in the affirmative, and tapped one of the empty spaces near the bottom.

  I hesitated momentarily, the gilded pen dangling from my fingers. The thought of signing a contract I hadn’t read bothered me; I’d seen how that shit could end in my past life. But… I had to handle this now…

  I’d trusted Tempest this far…

  l signed my name in a messy scrawl.

  The secretary took the pen from me with a polite bow, then went over to where Cael was kneeling. She shoved the contract at him, a lot less politely than she’d held it for me.

  From the impatient looks the secretary and guards were giving him, the message was clear: he was going to sign, or he was going back to his cell to die.

  He paused, the pen in his shackled hand, and looked over at me.

  His eyes were appraising, as if he was weighing me against some internal standard. Then, his expression firmed and he signed without a hint of hesitation.

  Finally, the secretary brought the contract over to King Roland, bowing deeply. The King signed in the last spot with a flourish. The secretary closed the folder and bowed once more, before vanishing behind a tapestry. At the king’s nod, Cael’s guards dragged him to his feet, unlocked his shackles and stepped away.

  Cael rubbed his wrists with a grimace. His face was a strange mix of hope, disbelief, and sorrow.

  I wanted to go over to him, make sure he was okay, but I didn’t trust my legs to carry me.

  The entire room was spinning, even worse this time. My head pounded with every heartbeat. Tempest and the king were discussing something. I needed to pay attention; it might be important. But I couldn’t focus. My brother’s smooth, calm tones and the king’s boisterous rumbling sounded distant and warbled, like they were talking under water.

  Tempest touched my shoulder, trying to draw my attention. His hand burned through my coat and froze my skin, all at the same time.

  Dark spots danced across my vision.

  The last thing I saw was Cael’s mouth opening in a shout. My legs gave way as he lunged for me. The throne room faded into darkness as I collapsed into his arms and passed out.

  —————————-

  The steady rumbling of wheels over cobblestones slowly pulled me back out of the void. My eyelids felt heavy, and my brain spun gently inside my skull.

  I was lying on one of the soft benches in our coach, my head on someone’s lap. Something warm and heavy was draped over me like a blanket. Not my cloak — it was too big, and the fabric felt rough beneath my fingers. A coat. It smelled faintly sweet and smoky, with a hint of the metallic tang of sword polish.

  “… question if his Majesty would have executed you under those circumstances. A true Seer would be far too valuable.”

  Tempest. He sounded mildly curious, but not upset. Good. He’d have taken care of everything.

  My pillow shuddered.

  I grunted in discontent, and it stilled. A cool hand came to rest on my forehead.

  “I know what happens to people like me. Fuck that. I’ll die first.”

  Cael. He was safe. Thank the gods.

  “That’s why. He stuck his stupid neck out for me. So far that he might get his fucking head cut off for doing it.”

  “It could be a ploy. I know more than a few at court who would go to far greater lengths to have a prize like you under their thumb.”

  Cael snorted. “You really think that’s what’s going on?”

  “No. I doubt the thought even crossed his mind.”

  They went quiet for a long time. I was beginning to drift again, when Cael shifted.

  “What’s gonna happen to me?” He asked in a small, worried voice.

  “For now? I’ve summoned a Healer to see to you both. Beyond that?” Tempest sighed. “We will speak of it once Violet awakens.”

  They lapsed into uneasy silence, and sleep dragged me under once again.