“Warren,” she breathed.
“It’s okay,” he assured her, gaze flicking to her shaking hands. “It’s okay, Dahlia. It’s okay.”
She dropped the knife to the floor. Lowering her head, Dahlia let out a shaky breath just as officers swarmed my apartment. They hauled her off her feet and dragged her back as one of them knelt to retrieve the knife. She looked up at us as we stood on the threshold, her expression stoic. She locked eyes with me, and there was more meaning in that gaze than I cared to decipher.
“Let her go,” I shouted at the guards as they dragged her toward the door.
“She’s a killer. She will be dealt with by the Tribunal.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Adrian,” Dahlia’s voice had taken on a strange kind of serenity. And when I looked at her, she smiled. There was something peaceful in her expression. Even as they pulled her away, she closed her eyes and let out a relieved sigh. I remained frozen in place as they took her away, the horrifying realization setting in.
She’d ended Cyrus’s suffering, which in turn had severed her own connection to his pain. What she felt now was the sweet bliss of freedom, like one who cuts off a diseased limb to save the body from rot.
A wave of nausea passed through me, and I bent over, hands on my knees, and gave a shuddering gasp.
“Let’s go,” Warren said, a hand on my back.
Without a word of explanation to Harrison, Warren and I hastened after the guards. We followed them down the stairs ofthe eastern gate to the lower deck, then all the way around to that cursed twelfth tunnel.
A crowd was beginning to form as we descended the stairs. There was an awe in their expressions that spoke more of the fact that we hadn’t seen a criminal brought to justice for years than anything else. Warren and I joined them, forbidden from going any farther as the guards dragged Dahlia to the opening of the tunnel and dropped her unceremoniously on the stone ground.
She stared up at the twelfth tunnel, a faint smile on her lips as if she were pleased that all of this was happening here, where Darius had last stood. A shiver shook through me, and I looked away.
Whispers rose up within the crowd itself, guesses at what she might have done, how she’d been caught, who was bringing charges against her. Dahlia herself just lowered her gaze from the archway and sat slumped on her knees, shoulders drawn in and eyes on the stone in front of her. At first glance, it appeared as if she hadn’t noticed the crowd surrounding her, but when a curious boy from the Third Ring got a little too close, she flinched. It was the only indication that she was aware of anything.
Half an hour passed before the first head of a major House arrived. It was the man who led House Lynx, Raghnall. He stepped forward out of the growing crowd and a hush fell over those gathered. He moved swiftly to the guards and exchanged words with them in a low murmur while we all strained to hear what was being said.
Heads turned, and Warren and I joined them. The matriarch of House Avus, Milo’s grandmother who I knew was named Nascha, descended the steps with one arm wrapped comfortingly around Cyrus’s sniveling mother. His father followed close behind them, his eyes devoid of emotion. Oncethe other leaders were in place, a familiar shade of green descended to the Deck.
Without much apology, I pushed my way through the crowd until I reached Cosmo’s side.
“Have mercy,” I begged as the crowd closed in around me and pushed me farther from him. He didn’t turn to look at me. Though Dante, dutifully following after his grandfather, frowned in my direction. “Cosmo!”
He finally turned, his gaze meeting my own.
“Please.”
He watched me for a moment, then looked away and continued on his journey to the front.
I stepped up onto a few steps to get a better look over the Deck as the three Heads of Houses, referred to in these cases of criminal trial as the Tribunal, gathered together and took their places in front of the accused; Dahlia.
“What is it that’s happened?” the patriarch of House Lynx’s voice boomed out among the rest of us.
“She killed my son!” Cyrus’s mother cried.
A flurry of shocked murmurs went up through the crowd. I craned my neck to see over them.
“Do you deny it?” the woman from House Avus asked.
All eyes went to Dahlia. She was still kneeling precisely where she had been thrown. The crowd held their breath waiting for an answer, but she remained silent. Dahlia merely looked up at the archway of the twelfth tunnel once more and gave a slight, almost imperceptible, shake of her head.
My heart dropped to my stomach.
Whispers rose up all around me. Warren shouted her name, but Dahlia didn’t lift her head.
“In that case, we have no choice but to—”
