Scale & Feather Extract

“Liamis Artimurs Rikard, Prince of the Baturt Empire,” a man called, gaining my attention. “You stand before this court accused of the crime of Magecraft.”

There were murmurs in the audience, but I could tell they were for my title, not my crime. I frowned as the man opened his mouth to continue, but I interrupted him.

“Am I to assume, then, that my father has refused to follow your orders and his punishment is the death of his only son?”

The lawyer barely glanced at the judge, but that glance was enough for me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, turning back to the paper in his hand. He opened his mouth to continue and I interrupted again.

“Oh, please. Don’t tell me you can’t see that I’m a scapegoat? They’re using the threat to my life to continue the control of my father, whether to shock him into line or to silence the last magic-lover who has his ear,” I spat, ignoring the layer’s attempts tot talk over me. “I had no magical knowledge whatsoever, and even less magic when they snatched me from my father’s library, where I was doing my engineering homework.”

The judge banged his gavel, and I glared at him, hoping to upset him. He ignored me.

“Bring in the tester,” he said, leaning back in his seat. “She’ll sort this out.”

A bad feeling gnawed in the middle of my chest.

Arnette strode in, her arms held by a pair of guards. She was still wearing the steel braces, and she didn’t so much as blink at me in recognition.

“Do I need to remind you of the penalty faced, were you to lie during these proceedings?” the judge asked her, resting his chin on his hand.

“No, your honour.” She looked at me. “Need I remind you that I need my restraints removed in order to do what you’re asking?”

The judge glanced at the guards, and one loosened a finger on her right hand. Arnette barely glanced at him, and then looked to me.

The gnawing feeling got worse.

Arnette flicked her finger at me, golden light glowing on her fingertip until it covered me. A few seconds later, it vanished, leaving me feeling slightly hollow and nauseous.

“As you can see,” Arnette said, gesturing to me, “this man holds no magic at all. Otherwise he would glow with the colour of his grade.”

I couldn’t help myself. I glanced down at my body, convinced that some small part of me would be glowing, giving away my secret. Nothing glowed.

The audience mumbled amongst themselves. The judge glanced at them before looking to Arnette.

“You’re lying.”

Arnette’s smile twisted. “I’m not lying. Unless, of course, you know something I don’t, judge?”

The judge glared at her, and I stared at the lawyer meant to be representing me. Before, he’d looked bored. When I accused the court of using me as a scapegoat, he’d seemed mildly interested. Now he looked deep in thought.

Arnette stared the judge in the eye. I didn’t need to be magical to know she was daring him to reveal how he knew she was lying.

He knew she’d call him out.

I fought a smile, watching the battle of wills. The judge had more to lose than Arnette. She could be killed. He could be accused of Magecraft, which was far worst.

Arnette was going to win this, easily.

The judge broke first. He looked away from Arnette and banged his gavel. “Take the prisoners away. They shall both face the water barrels at dawn tomorrow.”