Reaper's Soul (eBook)

2

Present Day

The gavel’s strike echoed through the court room and Brooke felt Alaric flinch. She hadn’t even looked at the judge since they were led into the courtroom, and she didn’t look at him now, as he started the hearing. Instead, she gazed down at her hands, which were clasped between her knees, as Ian left her side to take the stand. It doesn’t matter anyway. I know what I’m going to say when it’s my turn. She, Ian, and Alaric were sitting in the ramshackle courtroom of Enton, a tiny settlement a few miles from Cappadocia. It had been seven days since the Reaper had taken her sister. Seven days since Vivian was murdered. After the first two days of pleading with the guards, she’d given up. Vivian was already dead; there was nothing they could do to change that now.

Despair hollowed Brooke’s chest. Only the presence of the judge and the guards kept her from putting her head in her hands and bursting into tears. Vivian’s death had torn a hole in her heart. It throbbed and burned like an infected wound. She was ten feet away from me. Tortured . . . paralyzed. Brooke swallowed hard, her dry eyes aching to cry but unable to. Vivian, how could I do this to you?

Ian was being called up to give his account of the events. For the first time, Brooke raised her eyes to the judge. He was thin and frail and gazed back at her contemptuously.

“Ian Faris,” the judge said, his voice tremulous and reedy. “You are charged with attempted robbery and accessory to attempted murder. How do you plead?”

Ian’s reply was calm and confident.

“Not guilty.”

The judge’s expression was bored.

“Very well then. Plead your case.”

Ian started in immediately.

“First, I’ll address the charge of attempted robbery,” he said. “If any of your soldiers had bothered to listen to us, we could be spared this entire proceeding and removed a threat to society. The man we were allegedly robbing had in fact kidnapped a”—he paused and glanced at Brooke—“a dear friend, and we were in the process of rescuing her when your soldiers arrived. If you don’t believe me, then send soldiers to Blackheath and Cappadocia. Captain Raphael Haegman and Marrapet Winthrop can give character references and will assure you that we had no need to rob anyone. If we had been in desperate need of money, we were only a couple of miles from Cappadocia, and as Miss Winthrop will doubtless inform you, she would have lent us money if we had asked. That removes any motive we might have had for committing such a crime.”

The judge had sat through Ian’s defense, and now sighed, shifting in his chair.

“This may be all very well for your charge of attempted robbery,” he said. “But how can you argue against the charge of attempted murder?”

Ian spread his hands, gesturing to the courtroom, which was empty apart from the accused, the guards, and the judge himself.

“Your soldiers dismissed the supposed victim. I don’t see him here to plead his case or press charges.”

The judge’s eyes hardened.

“We will not be discussing the garrisons’ faulty judgment here,” he snapped. “The soldiers will be punished for their negligence according to the king’s law.” The judge paused. “But it appears I am questioning the wrong defendant on the charge of attempted murder. You may step down, Mr. Faris.”

Brooke felt the judge’s eyes on her as Ian left the stand.

“Miss Archdale, approach the stand, if you please.”

Brooke rose slowly. Ian made eye contact as they passed each other.

“Like we agreed,” he whispered, “they haven’t got any actual proof.”

Brooke didn’t answer. She pressed her hand against the smooth, worn cover of the Bible and was sworn in; then she took the stand. The judge yawned and riffled through the soldiers’ written accounts on his desk.

“Go on,” he said, without raising his head. “How do you plead?”

Brooke barely spared him a contemptuous glance before directing her gaze to the opposite wall.

“Guilty.” The word cut through the silence like a knife.

The judge’s eyes widened. The defendant’s bench shifted as Ian stood up. Two of the guards hurried forward.

“Brooke,” Ian warned.

The judge cut him off.

“Very well then, Miss Archdale,” he said, seeming surprised and relieved by the turn of events. “Please give your testimony.”

Brooke shook her head at Ian, and he reluctantly sat down, shrugging off the guards’ hands. She turned her attention back to the judge.

“The charge of attempted murder is true. I tried to kill Hedroe because he kidnapped and paralyzed my sister. His death would have put an end to the epidemic of the Black Death and saved my sister’s life.” The judge blinked and sat up a little straighter as Brooke continued. “Ian and Alaric had no part in the attempted murder, and the charge of robbery was completely made up by Hedroe to hide the fact that he is a murderer.”

“She’s mad,” the judge breathed.

Brooke’s bloodshot eyes bored into the wrinkled face, and its owner shrank back, as if afraid of her.

“Maybe I am,” she said, “but if that’s the case, then there’s no need for me to continue defending myself, is there?” The judge let out a faint wheeze of astonishment and she heard a scuffle as Alaric and the guards held Ian back. She could hear Alaric’s urgent whisper from where she sat. “Sit down; it won’t do any good!” A stifled grunt of pain issued from one of the guards. Ian was in no mood to listen. Brooke spoke determinedly over the commotion. “If you think me mad, then you’d be better off sentencing me to death before my affliction causes me to hurt anyone else. There’s no point asking a rabid dog to plead its case, is there?”

The judge sat back in his seat, pale with confusion and fear.

“You are dismissed, Miss Archdale,” he managed.

Brooke walked off the stand, and Ian met her at the gate near the defendant’s bench. His coat was rumpled from his struggle with the guards, and he was breathing hard.

“What was that?” he demanded.

Brooke could feel her strength leaving her. Now that her testimony was given, all she wanted to do was leave and wait for the judge’s decision. It would undoubtedly be a death sentence. She had admitted to trying to murder someone. I’ll be executed within the week. Nothing else really matters now. Brooke tried to walk past Ian, but he grabbed her arm.

“Brooke—”

“I told the truth, Ian,” Brooke hissed, pulling away. “When the court dismisses your and Alaric’s cases, just get out of here. The soldiers’ testimonies and Hedroe’s accusations will never hold up in court. Not after my testimony. You know that.”

Two of the guards were hurrying forward to break them apart.

“We were supposed to do this together,” Ian whispered. “Have you gone mad?”

Brooke felt tears rising in her eyes.

“I’m getting what I deserve,” she held up a hand to forestall the guards. “Leave it alone, Ian. This is my choice.” Ian started to speak again but glanced at the guards and dropped her arm.

“We’ll talk later.” He stood aside, and she took her seat next to Alaric.

The judge took a sip of water from the glass on his desk. He cleared his throat and beckoned to Alaric.

“Alaric Morgan, take the stand.” His voice was strained now.

Brooke folded her arms and slouched down in her seat, observing the judge. He doesn’t know what to make of it yet. A grim satisfaction flooded over her. But he will. Brooke picked at the splinters on the bar in front of her as Alaric began his testimony. He’d been shaken by Brooke’s short, sharp speech; she could hear it in his voice. Brooke felt a pain in her left foot as Heather’s ring heated. Since the soldiers had arrested them, the ring had remained in Brooke’s boot, where she’d hidden it. She didn’t have the heart to speak to Heather. She’d only try to talk me out of it, and I’ll get enough of that from Ian. Brooke closed her eyes. An image was burned on her lids, an image of Vivian, lifeless, livid, and bleeding from the mouth. But I deserve all of this, and nothing they could say would change that.

* * *

It was late in the day when the trial finally finished. Brooke stood as the judge dismissed them, and one of the guards came and took her by the arm.

“Come on then. Back to your cells,” he said, pushing her in front of him. Brooke walked out of the courtroom, ignoring Ian’s and Alaric’s concerned and questioning gazes. Heather’s ring still burned against her foot, and she limped slightly at the pressure. Why can’t any of them see that this is what I deserve? Anger at their interference, however well-meaning it was, hardened into a tight knot in her stomach. They were passing through the hallway in the jail now. Alaric and Ian had been locked up in their cell already when Brooke heard a hoarse yell and sounds of a struggle from the guard room behind them. Brooke twisted around and saw a young woman being dragged into the jail. She was fighting back against the older guard, and a second soldier came to help him. They...