The thrones had been removed, but other chairs almost as grand sat on one side of a table long enough to seat ten. Because in this trial an ex-monarch would be judged, which very rarely happened in Faerie, we had to dig deep into the logbooks to learn the correct protocol.
As it turned out, in the case of a monarch, or ex-monarch, breaking the law, and actually being called out on it, the fae reverted to a governing style similar to that of the old gods.
A jury of six sat alongside the head judge; in this case, me. My vote carried the weight of three other jurors, and I would be the one to cast final judgment on the former queen.
When the guards brought her in, thinly padded iron shackles still ringed Sela White’s wrists and ankles. The scent of burnt skin from where the metal had touched her filled the room. As fae were allergic to iron, and if cut or dosed with the metal it could be lethal, the shackles had to have been painful. But the Red Queen didn’t let it show. Even when the crowd began to boo and jeer, her face was a mask, haughty and proud as ever, as if a crown still perched on her head.
The guards led her to a chair positioned off to the side of the jurors’ table. She lowered herself into the creaking wood with the utmost dignity and grace.
On cue, Sansu rose from his seat at the far end of the jurors’ table and approached the accused.
As he did so, I thought of Herald. Had the godsflame not killed him and later devoured his body, this would’ve been his job. He would have seen this proceeding. The pooka would have known that every sacrifice and danger he’d put himself through had been worth it.
I made a mental note to have a statue dedicated to the pooka, displaying him in his favorite form—a white rabbit in a waistcoat.
“We’re here today to witness the fair judgment of Sela White, previously known as the Queen of Hearts, or the Red Queen of the Wonderland Court.” Sansu gestured to my aunt, who scowled. “Does anyone here object to the trial of this faerie?”
No one spoke, no one even blinked.
The Red Queen didn’t seem an ounce surprised.
“As no one wishes to stand up for this woman, I shall continue to read the counts of atrocities committed by Sela White against the fae of Wonderland.”
Sansu pulled out a scroll at least a foot long, and began reading the list of crimes, one after the other.
For each horrible act named, a fae in the crowd snarled, sneered, growled, or made a rude hand gesture. My aunt had made enemies everywhere, and I had absolutely no doubt that today, she would see a reckoning for her actions.
Once Sansu had finished, he rolled up the scroll. “This concludes the reading of the charges. The trial shall now commence, Judge Alice.”
I gulped. At my side, Henri snaked his hand onto the armrest of my seat and patted my arm.
“You’ve got this,” he whispered. “It’ll be over soon.”
I nodded, not exactly sure sure why I was nervous.
My aunt deserved everything she was getting. She deserved death. She deserved an eternity in the dungeon. She deserved to feel everything she had made the fae of Wonderland feel, times a thousand.
And yet, the smallest iota of me, the part that Isadora had breathed life into when she gave me permission not to be the one to kill my aunt, was screaming for me to stop.
It was frustrating as hell. It made me want to throw things. It didn’t make any sense.
But no matter why I felt this way, I knew I should be thankful. It showed I was more than just a killing machine, that there was hope for me to change my life after all this was over.
“Sela White,” I began, and was surprised to hear my tone so strong. “Do you deny any of the charges made against you?”
“I deny all of them,” the former queen said smoothly. “Save one, of course.”
Although it wasn’t professional, I rolled my eyes. “And what would that be?”
“That I stole the crown. Shall I go into the reasons why I did so?” Her lips lifted in a sly smile as her gaze locked with mine, challenging me.
My throat closed up, and I broke out into a sweat. The crowd murmured, clearly curious as to what the Red Queen would say. But as long as I was in power in this room, they would never know what my aunt believed. They could never know of the prophecy.
I slammed my fist onto the table in front of me. “Quiet!”
At my single word, the onlookers fell silent.
I turned to the accused. “An explanation will not be necessary. Your admission of guilt of a single crime, which you’ve just given, is sufficient.”
