Sheriff Bronson takes a step toward me, and the mayor’s two guards follow suit. I stand, knocking my chair over in the process. Foxglove springs to his feet a moment later, blocking my body with his. He holds his palms before him, as if they stand a chance against the swords at the guards’ waists or the sheriff’s revolver—a gun!Such a rare weapon to see in my village, or on the isle at all, for that matter. At least no weapon has been drawn yet.
“Wait,” Foxglove says. “Until a trial proves otherwise, Evelyn Fairfield is a subject of the Autumn Court. You cannot harm her or hold her captive.”
“Miss Fairfield is suspected of treason alongside her mother,” Mayor Coleman says through his teeth. “She will be escorted to Sableton’s jail tonight, and tomorrow she and her mother will be transported to the Spire to be held until the trial.”
“It will be easier if you come willingly.” Sheriff Bronson extends his hand, expression apologetic. I’m sure this is awkward for him. It’s not that we know each other well, but he’s been Sableton’s sheriff since I was a little girl.
“Besides, wouldn’t you rather be with your mother?” The mayor’s voice is mocking, grating on my ears. But his words meet their mark, taking the fight from me as my mind fills with images of Mother alone in a dark cell.
“She’s being kept comfortable, as will you,” Bronson says, his tone far more placating than the mayor’s. “That comfort will be extended during your stay, and I’ve been assured it will be maintained at the Spire.”
The mayor clears his throat. “When we hear word from your sister, she will join you as well.”
I lay a gentle hand on Foxglove’s shoulder, wordlessly asking him to stand down. “What will happen to us after the trial?”
“Afterward,” the mayor says, “the three of you will be exiled to mainland Bretton.”
“Only if your suspicions prove correct,” Foxglove says.
The mayor nods.
Exiled to the mainland.At least it isn’t execution.
There was a time not long ago when I would have given anything to move to the mainland. But that was before the Reaping. Before Faerwyvae. Before Aspen. Now it’s all over. Even if Mother is proven innocent at her trial, it will be too late for me and him. He’ll already be married by then.
But my mother will live. She’ll live and we’ll be together.It’s all I can focus on if I’m to prevent another emotional breakdown.
“I’ll go to my imprisonment willingly.” My voice comes out with a tremor. “Foxglove will take the new Chosen to the Autumn Court.”
“A wise choice,” the mayor says.
I face Sheriff Bronson as frantic footsteps sound in the hall, followed by a much slower set farther down. The familiar figure that emerges through the threshold catches me off guard.
“Do not imprison her,” Mr. Meeks says through panting breaths. The aging surgeon doesn’t so much as look at me as he approaches the mayor’s desk. “I will host her until the trial.”
Mayor Coleman shakes his head. “She must be held behind bars.”
“She’s just a girl,” Mr. Meeks says. “She cannot be subjected to the indignity of prison.”
I bristle at being calledjust a girl, but the sentiment softens my heart. My former mentor, who I apprenticed under for two years, is the one human I respect above all others. And he’s here fighting on my behalf.
He continues. “Even if proven guilty of having fae blood, the fault will not lie with her but with her mother. I’ve known Miss Fairfield since she was a child, and can attest that she knew of no secret heritage. Do not punish her for her ignorance.”
The second set of footsteps crosses the threshold, revealing an unfamiliar man. He appears to be in his thirties, wearing cream trousers and a navy-blue jacket and waistcoat. He’s tall with neatly trimmed dark-blond hair, a slim mustache, and pale blue eyes that match his silk cravat.
Mayor Coleman lets out a grumble of relief. “Councilman Duveau, please speak some sense into Mr. Meeks.”
Mr. Duveau scans the room, gaze roving from the mayor to Mr. Meeks, then gliding to Foxglove. Finally, it settles on me, although he doesn’t meet my eyes.
Mr. Meeks faces the newcomer. “Henry, please allow Miss Fairfield this comfort. Let her stay with me while she awaits her mother’s trial. I will escort her to the Spire myself when the time comes.”
The mayor opens his mouth to argue, but Henry Duveau speaks first. “I don’t see the problem, Mayor Coleman. Miss Fairfield can do what she pleases. She can return to the Autumn Court for all I care, so long as she and her sister attend the trial and submit to their sentence.”
The mayor looks taken aback, cheeks burning. “If we don’t lock her up now, what is to keep her from going into hiding?”
“She’ll have ample incentive,” Mr. Duveau says. “More than she has now, in fact.”
I shudder as he faces me. “What do you mean?”
