The Verdict
Theoatmealthatslidinto my cell an hour ago sits like a rock in my stomach, along with the fear that I’m about to lose everything—my future with Natalie, my chance to be part of the coven, and a lot more.
I spent all night poring over the documents Natalie smuggled me—the coven’s laws, my oath, every piece of information I need to build my defense—but it might not be enough. Now my eyes burn and my brain feels as brittle as a dried-up sponge.
Hayley and Neil come for me, and my heart pounds frantically as they guide me up the stairs. Natalie’s scent lingers on the hoodie and joggers she gave me, which are too long and bunch around my wrists and ankles. Even the comfort of wearing her clothes can’t calm me.
The sconces lighting up the brick hallway sting my eyes, and my feet are clumsy as I try to get my bearings. The scent of greenery hits my nose, but I have no idea where we are.
They escort me through the halls, taking turn after turn until we arrive at a high-ceilinged chamber that’s strangely familiar. Thorny roses cloak the brick walls, their shadows writhing in the flickering torchlights.
Oh God, this is the same room where I had my induction into the coven. The furniture has been rearranged to resemble a courtroom, which does nothing for the nervous jitters rocketing through my body.
The jury sits to the left: twelve witches I mostly recognize, including Agnes with her usual high pigtails and scrunched-up face, another Director named Amir, an Alchemist named Jaques, and Sky. Relief washes over me at the sight of Natalie’s sister. She’s dressed more formally than I’ve ever seen her in a white collared shirt and slacks, her head freshly shaved, her makeup as perfect as always. When our eyes meet, she gives me the smallest nod. At least one person here is on my side.
But where’s Natalie?
Nausea churns inside me. I shouldn’t be surprised—the Directors definitely wouldn’t allow it. Still, I’d hoped…
Hayley and Neil release my arms and melt into the jury section, leaving me exposed to everyone’s stares.
A large wooden chair sits in the center of the room. My seat, I guess.
My stomach drops as I see who’s behind the desk at the far end.
Of course Fiona is the judge.
“Sit,” she says.
As I walk to the chair, my footsteps carrying, a hiss rises.
Whispers?
No, the roses on the walls are writhing like snakes, their thorns scraping the stone as if threatening to tear into me.
The chair scoots forward and slams into the backs of my knees, forcing me to sit. I drop into it, a surprised gasp escaping.
Snickers rise from the jury, and heat floods my cheeks. But I refuse to shrink. If they’re trying to intimidate me, they’re going to have to try harder.
I meet Fiona’s gaze as she towers above me behind the wooden desk. A stack of papers and two empty glass vases are in front of her. She riffles the pages and clears her throat.
Her voice fills the cavernous room. “Katie Medina Alexander, you stand accused of violating your oath to the Coven of Shadows and Alchemists for Managing Magic. Specifically, you are charged with the unauthorized release of fifty-six instances of harnessed biological magic, endangering both our secrecy and public safety. You arealsocharged with the murder of Frederick Madsen, a civilian who is protected from magical harm under our laws.”
The room is dead silent. Fuck, she’s bringing what happened with Freddie into this?
I adjust my seat, the chair creaking. The wood feels unnaturally cold beneath me, like it’s leeching my body heat.
“How do you plead?” Fiona asks.
“Not guilty,” I say firmly—though my heart pounds faster hearing her put everything I did into blunt words.
“So the chimeras set themselves free?”
“I did free them, but—”
“And you broke into their cages yourself?”
“Yes, because the Madsens—”
