“What about him?” My voice cracks, the world reducing to a pinpoint.
Her lips tremble. “You have to stop them, Ingrid,” she sobs. “The Judge wants to see him hang.”
I don’t wait for anything more.
"Wait!" Ella cries. "What if he takes you too?" she asks, clutching my apron in a way that nearly breaks me. "I don’t want him to get you too!"
"Oh, sweetheart," I say, pushing her back so I can look her in the eyes again. She can see it there: my resolve. My refusal to let anything happen to either of them. "He won’t. I’m coming back, and I’m bringing Phillip with me."
I hope she believes it, because I’m not sure I do.
"Stay with your aunt," I tell her, praying she won't do anything foolish. "I won’t be gone long." I gently pry her fingers free from my apron, hugging her once more before I turn and flee.
My mind races just as fast as my feet as I barrel out of the garden, fear closing around my heart with each step. I let Phillip down, left him alone when I knew better. The Judge’s patience is thin and his heart is colder than the bitterest winter, and it’s all my fault. How could I let this happen? I’m supposed to be the one to protect him.
I can’t be too late.
He’s going to be fine.
Hehasto be.
The Judge wants to see him hang.
I’m halfway to town before the shock wears off, the echo of those words pushing me to run faster, harder, ignoring the pain in my feet and the burning in my lungs. I can’t be too late.
Phillip's been into scrapes before, but nothing that would have made him a real target for the Judge. What could have brought the Judge’s attention to my scamp of a brother? Phillip likes to make trouble, but he has a charming way about him that normally saves his skin. And failing that, there’s always…me.
Oh no.
It should have been so clear. So obvious. The Judge first approached me when I was younger than Ella is now. He said it was a generous offer, a stable job in his house keeping books and records, taking stock. Lord Amond was wealthy, he said, but had not a fraction of the Judge’s power. He said he’d stop at nothing to bring me into his home. I laughed him off. Didn’t dare take him seriously. Not when my only priority was to be near my brother.
Truthfully, I expected him to grow bored and turn his interests elsewhere. Instead, he got clever, going around me entirely. An envelope of coins delivered to the housekeeper with a letter to me included. Colorful dresses arriving with wagons, sent from other towns, other counties. A scarf so fine it was worth more than everything I own combined, each silky thread heavy with obligation. And my fool brother told me to take it!
Phillip has always had me to extract him from any tangles he finds himself in. He doesn’t understand what the Judge is like. Not truly.
The man has a way of getting what he wants no matter what. I realize now that he never gave up; he was biding his time. And all I can do is watch helplessly, knowing he’ll catch me no matter which way I turn.
When I arrive at the center of town, a terrible stitch slices through my side. Each hurried breath comes out ragged, painful. My muscles ache, and my limbs are shaking, though I don’tknow if that’s from fear or exertion. My steps slow outside the courthouse where a handful of men mill about with their arms crossed and their noses turned up. I recognize a few who've joined the Judge's recent campaign to protect the village’s virtues.
Do they truly think dragging my brother away in chains will do anything to tip the scales?
No; it's like the Judge told me before: sheepherders and spinsters like me are in need of a firm hand from those who know better. This is about power and control, and I have none.
The men make no move to stop me as I push past them and shove open the heavy door. The smell of roasted meat assaults my senses, and nausea nearly overtakes me. I swallow the bile rising in my throat and force my feet to move despite how weighted they feel, propelling myself through the entry, stumbling toward the main hall. The thought of Phillip sitting alone in a cold, dark cell renews my resolve. My brother might be beyond the reach of my help already, but if he isn’t, then I have to keep trying.
The courthouse interior is dimly lit at this hour, the fire of the torches struggling against the encroaching night, casting the rooms in heavy shadow. No one greets me or ushers me in. The Judge either trusts my desperation too much, or he doesn’t care if I even make it there. He wins either way.
I freeze when his gaze lands on me, stopping where his eyes slice through the flickering light. I feel like a hare caught in the fox’s den. His cold eyes assess me like a rare prize, and he barks out a command to the bailiff, telling him to wait before moving my brother to the gallows. He says nothing, savoring my helplessness more than the roasted bird in his hand, and I can't hide my shudder.
The world tilts, and I swallow back bitterness, forcing one foot in front of the other, forcing myself closer to the Judge as he reclines, enjoying this moment just as much as his lavish meal. I clench my fists and move in, trying to still the tremble I know he sees anyway. The greedy look on his face gives it away.
"This," he says, shaking his head, clicking his tongue like he’s dealing with a wayward child, "is what your meddling has earned you." He tosses a stripped-clean bone to the ground, and it clatters on the stone as he wipes grease on the embroidered tablecloth. "I'll make this simple: you can claim your brother’s corpse, or your place in my household. I’ll give you one."
My knees buckle, the weight of that choice heavier than anything Phillip has ever made off with. It crushes the breath out of me. I know the life waiting for me in the Judge’s home is one made of horrors I’d rather die than face, but when it’s Phillip’s life?
I want to shout that he’s not guilty, that this isn’t fair, but the look on the Judge’s face keeps my lips sealed. He's already enjoying this too much. I won't give him more satisfaction.
Everything I’ve worked for, everything I’ve done to try to protect my brother—it’s crumbling like the bones beneath the Judge's heel.
