I’m not sure exactly what he expected when he saw his son standing in this room, but surely, he couldn’t have assumed anything but the best. He molded him into who he wanted him to be.
It’s his own fault for assuming his son would never break from the mold.
“It’d seem the friendship—”
“We have everything we need,” Rellannaver says, cutting my father off. “We shall cast our votes. Derivius, in the trial oflate High Chancellor Harriseen, do you believe Amick, God of Knowledge, acted in good faith or ill will?”
“Good faith.”
His answer is immediate and sure. I dip my head.
“Calista.”
“Son, even if you possibly had alternative motives, I find them very sweet and protective. Much like your father.” She giggles, then clears her throat. “Good faith.”
My eyes drift right past her.
As always, she’s living in a delusional, unstable land of sunshine and rainbows.
“Kirabaddon.”
“Ill-will.”
Suspected as much. Same for the next.
“Sabelline.”
“Ill-will.”
The Goddess of Accord’s attention flicks behind me. As much as I want to believe she’s looking at her son, I know she isn’t. He’s slightly to my right. Thayla is an inch to my left.
The air gets sucked out of the room as everyone takes a deep breath, waiting for her deciding vote.
I don’t let my pounding heartbeat distract me or drown out my other senses.
I stay as unemotional and impassive as she does.
“You are found to have acted in good faith, Amick. You’re free to proceed with the same standing and stature.”
Cheers ring out behind me, and my soul alights in my chest. A mutteredhold onwhispered from Kyzen’s lips lets me know my Binder was getting ready to pounce on me.
“Rellannaver, this is preposterous. You can see as clearly as me that he had ulterior motives. Even Calista just claimed she thought so,” Kirabaddon states as he stands from his chair.
“I disagree, Kira. Sure, we could use the excuse he was getting revenge for his Binder, but that doesn’t align with his timing. Like it or not, the son that stands before you is the one most like you. He is smart, conning, and unwavering in his ways. If he wanted Harriseen dead before now, he would’ve been and we never would’ve known it was him.”
My chest squeezes in an unexplainable way, and my stomach swooshes uncomfortably.
Never in my life has someone compared me so blatantly to my father.
I hope to never hear that again.
“Very well,” my father grits, staring at me with unfiltered hatred in his eyes.
That look alone snaps me out of my momentary discombobulation.
“I have one more matter to address.”
“What could that be?” he asks with narrowed eyes.
