Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 145728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
The Bailiff—a tall Fae dressed in somber dark blue—stepped forward. He brought out a scroll, which looked very much like the one the Nixies had carried to summon me, unrolled it, and began to read.
“Whereas the prisoner, Emma Plunkett, has maliciously attacked the innocent Morganna Starchild and has grievously wounded her, she shall be sentenced to—”
“Wait a minute!” I exclaimed. “Don’t I get any kind of a trial with witnesses and a lawyer and a real judge and jury?”
“I am your judge and your jury, prisoner!” Lady Starchild glared at me.
“But you’re biased!” I protested. “Because you’re Morganna’s mother!”
“What difference does that make?” she demanded.
“It makes a big difference!” I exclaimed. “Because you’re naturally going to rule in her favor. Where is the Queen? I want her to judge me!”
“You think we would bother Queen Elia with half-breed filth like you?” Lady Starchild exclaimed. “Her Majesty has better things to do than judge a lowly little Winter Court brat like yourself.”
“Perhaps you should look at Emma’s eyes before you decide to make that judgment,” Lachlan said, frowning at her. “She has eyes very like King Tyr’s, as you can see.”
“What would you know of His Majesty’s eyes?” Lady Starchild spat at him. “You’re clearly a half-breed yourself, boy!”
“I am no half-breed, though,” Bran said, stepping forward. “My father was the Queen’s closest Councilor. And I say you’d better listen to Lachlan when he tells you to look at Emma’s eyes before you pass judgment on her.”
“Silence, boy!” Lady Starchild snapped. “Your name might have carried weight once, but Her Majesty dismissed your father for treason! He is nothing but a wanted criminal and you have no standing here! Now then…” She took a breath and appeared to be trying to calm herself. “Bailiff, continue reading the charges and the punishment,” she said. “Start at the beginning,” she added.
The bailiff cleared his throat and began again.
“Whereas the prisoner, Emma Plunkett, has maliciously attacked the innocent Morganna Starchild and has grievously wounded her, she shall be sentenced to the wearing of two iron rings and two iron bracelets for a year and a day during which time she shall be kept in the dungeons and fed only on bread and water,” he announced.
“Moldy bread and dirty water, mother!” Morganna called, from her corner, her blue eyes flashing maliciously at me. She gave me a nasty sneer. “After this is over, the queen’s own physician is going to regrow all my hair but you’ll be stuck in the dungeon forever!”
“Yes, yes, my sweet—of course,” Lady Starchild cooed to her daughter. “I shall have a word to the head guard of the dungeons myself and make certain there is filth in her food every day. But now for the first part of the punishment!” She rubbed her long, white hands together as though in anticipation. “Bailiff—bring forth the iron rings and bracelets!” she exclaimed.
Bran and Lachlan and I all exchanged glances. None of us said anything, but I was sure we were all thinking of how the rusty iron nails I had touched, on the night Bran had called Lachlan into the human world, hadn’t affected me. I was hoping these iron rings and bracelets they were about to put on me would be similarly inert when they touched my skin, but I didn’t know for sure.
One thing I did know was that not all the Fae approved of my punishment. While I had been having my “trial,” a group of observers had gathered at the back of the Sentencing Hall. Now I heard them whispering as the bailiff brought out a locked leather box and proceeded to unlock it.
“Did you hear that? Iron bracelets and rings for a year and a day? What did the girl do to deserve such a stiff sentence?” one Fae woman murmured.
“It’s cruelty, plain and simple!” another hissed.
She was dressed simply in a white, homespun dress—maybe she was some kind of a domestic servant here in the palace?
“To make such a young one touch iron—and not only touch it but wear it for so long!” she exclaimed, shaking her head in a scandalized way.
“You’re Her Majesty’s maid, aren’t you, Luella?” another woman asked her. “Has she been informed of this extreme punishment?”
“No—she knows naught about it.” The maid shook her head again, frowning.
“Well, maybe you ought to tell her,” the woman said. “I can’t believe she would sanction such a punishment.”
“The pain will drive her mad,” one male Fae said, sounding sure of himself. “No one could endure iron against their skin for such a length of time.”
“Aye, mayhap it will,” the maid agreed, staring at me.
All of this talk was making me feel distinctly uncomfortable. What if the iron they were about to put on me was different from the iron I’d touched in the nails back in the human world. What if it really hurt me? What if—?