[a/n] i apologize for how ridiculously long this is
also, dedicated to InterestingMythology for the beautiful banner she made!
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I've been on this bench for a millennium and a half. Wars have raged. Chaos has brought down this world. The end is near.
I'm kidding.
Though, I have been sitting on this bench for far too long. My legs were starting to cramp and numb--you know things are bad when the girl with a sprained ankle wants to start walking to get the nerves back in her leg.
I was singing a song softly under my breath, my voice drifting down the vast Drageryian Hall. The sound wandered back to me, reverberating past the stainless arched windows carved on the sides of the building. The sunlight of the afternoon streamed through, the warmest sunlight Cimeria had had in two weeks, bringing a golden glow to the otherwise alabaster hall.
My heel bounced off the white marble floor, the sound joining in with my song. I was beginning to crave some company, but unfortunately for me, I couldn't have any. Witnesses for a regius trial weren't permitted to speak to anybody the moment they entered the premises.
Drageryian Hall contained thirteen different court rooms. Twelve of them were meant for plebeius trials--Latin for 'commoner.' These were the courts for the public, of regular trials presided over by ordinary judges and juries and prosecutors. The usual shebang.
There was one large court at the very end of the building, its black doors engraved with depictions of the how Cimeria came to be. It was guarded at all times when Drageryian Hall was open, locked by a key that only the Head of the Court possessed. It was the regius atrium, reserved only for trials dealing with the twelve clans of Cimeria. The only trials that the official Court of Cimeria would preside over.
The regius atrium was hardly ever in use. The doors would only open once in a blue moon. The last time the atrium had been in use was for Archer's trial eight years ago, where he had been stripped of his princely title. Funnily enough, just two weeks ago, the doors had reopened for Archer, righting the wrongs of the past.
Now, the doors had opened for Abigail Blackewell. Right now, her trial was in session, where the Court and clans would weigh all of the information presented in order to decide her fate. Not that there was much to decide. Treason committed by a noble of Cimeria was a crime that could never earn forgiveness.
As I sat in silence, admiring the marble statue of Dike, the Greek goddess of justice, I began wondering who the new Head of the Court was. After Abigail's one and only confession throughout her entire interrogation, the previous Head-- Robert Lakesyn (clearly that family has it out for me)--had been immediately dismissed. His replacement had come just in time for Archer's trial. I tried to ask my brother who it was, but he was too busy announcing himself as the once and future king of Cimeria returned at the top of his lungs to answer me.
All I knew was that Robert Lakesyn, using his authority as the Head of the Court, had ignored the clans and ruled for Archer to be taken down. According to his confession at XYZ, he had been bribed to do so, but he wouldn't name the perpetrator, Naturally the blame fell to Abigail and Jonathan Fields was promptly tossed into jail, awaiting his own trial.
Other than that, my knowledge was limited. Elijah, Archer, Flynn--none of them would say a word (then again, the only times Flynn did say anything was if the topic was about Alec's health). My own friends stayed silent. They'd vaguely mention a threat made by my grandmother before hurrying off, leaving me in the dark. I couldn't even tempt Logan to say anything, that rule-abiding twerp.
It made sense, though it irked me like no other. Once I had been released from the hospital, I had spent most of my time with Jasper, who had told me that since I was to be a witness for the Blackewell trial, it became extremely important that information was barred from me to keep me from potentially committing perjury.
I sat on the bench, concocting a list of ways I could torment Logan for not telling me anything when footsteps began cutting through the silence. I jerked upright, feeling my heart miss a beat for a moment due to the sudden noise before I calmed myself down, realizing that it was just someone walking down the halls.
In a few minutes, a tall, lanky man with incredibly long skinny legs around fifty stopped before me and bowed, arm barred against his chest. A streak of silver ran through his black hair and as he fixed his suit jacket, something glinted on the cuff of his wrist--a silver circle banded around a capital 'F,' with two lines intersecting in the ring.
"Your Highness," he greeted. "My name is Mordecai Sterling, and I will be accompanying you to the regius atrium."
My eyes recognized the crest of the Fells sewed onto the breast pocket of his suit and a wry smile spread across my lips. Of course Frederick Fell would send someone who worked for his clan to accompany me. He would love to be the one to report any compromise of my integrity (you know, because the marble statues just had so much to say to me).
"And here I thought you came out to keep me company," I joked. He didn't laugh. Then again, with a name like Mordecai, I don't think humor would be my forte either.
I managed a weak chuckle before getting to my feet. Once I stood upright, Mordecai straightened his suit jacket and walked off. Careful not to put too much pressure on my ankle, I followed him, though I had nothing on his rapid speed. He was already halfway down the hall while I limped behind him, cursing underneath my breath. This is why Frederic Fell sent Mordecai--to rub it in my face that Mordecai didn't look like a penguin waddling on Drageryian Hall.
At one point, I even lost the Cimerian Speed-Walker of the Year. He had turned a corner, away from the large black doors that were right ahead of us, and within a blink of an eye, he was gone. Slightly confused, I followed Mordecai anyway, though wondering why he wasn't knocking on the black doors.
Somehow, down the halls, I found myself standing in front of three different entrances--Mordecai nowhere in sight. In the end, I chose the hall that smelled too strongly of cologne, knowing that the statues weren't the ones donning Armani.
Luckily for me, some thirty feet away, Mordecai reappeared before me, turned to the left, his finger pointing in that direction. He smiled at me before heading off by himself, and with a grumble, I squared my shoulders and followed him, wondering how much trouble I would get into if I threw my heel into the back of his head.
I caught him standing by a small black door, and it hit me again that I wasn't going to be simply watching Abigail Blackewell's trial, but participating in it. Of course I couldn't use the front entrance--that was for public access. Anyone taking part in the trial was to enter through a private entrance instead.
A bit nervous, my muscles tensed and I stepped forward just as Mordecai pulled open the door for me.
And then I was walking into the regius atrium, my gaze meeting the crowd that had gathered in the black seats stationed behind black railings, which divided the great hall into two distinct settings. The mumbles of the crowd subdued as I headed further into the open space. Light from the glazed roof spilled onto the marble flooring, bringing an ethereal glow to the atrium.
I strode past two different deities of justice and peace, both from different religions. There was a stand raised by one statue--and in the seat was Abigail Blackewell. Her blonde hair now hung in limp strands pooling to her chest. She wore a plain black ensemble with silver chains glinting on her wrists. She looked as hollow as a corpse, her eyes drooping with shadows underneath them. She lacked color and spirit, her blue eyes no longer icy but defeated.
Stopping in the middle of the atrium, I raised my gaze to the second floor, where the twelve noble clans were gathered--the clans of Fell, Whitepine, Kingsley, Roseway, Fairling, Lockeheart, Starkling, Blackewell, Bishop, Cross, Darkwood, and the royal clan of Sparrow. Scattered among them were the thirteen individuals of the Court--six were representatives chosen by the public, the other six chosen by the elite of the kingdom. The final member, the Head of the Court, was chosen by their predecessor.
Considering Robert Lakesyn's abrupt departure, I wondered who chose the Head of the Court this time around.
Whoever it was sat in a black chair besides my grandmother, wearing a crown of flames, shuffling a pile of papers before her. Ginny Weasley, is that you?
A few minutes passed and the whispers echoing around the atrium increased until the Head o the Court cleared her throat and looked up. Black glasses sat askew on her high-bridged nose, her pale lips pursed into a tight line as she looked down at me. The talking ceased as she shared a nod with my grandmother.
"I apologize about the wait," the lady spoke, her sharp voice slicing through the atrium. "We may proceed after the oath."
With that said, Mordecai appeared from the side, holding a thick, leather bound book with stale, yellowing pages. The ancient language of Cimeria was carved on the front and as Mordecai stood before me, I placed my hand on the book containing the first-written laws of the kingdom. Then, I got onto one knee, left arm behind my back, wincing at the pain in my ankle.
"Do you," read a powerful voice I knew belonged to my grandmother, "Park Mai Alexandra Sparrow, swear upon the first law that you, from this moment on, will tell the truth and nothing but the truth, and that you will accept any form of punishment if it is discovered that you have lied?"
"I, Park Mai Alexandra Sparrow--" gods, my name was a mouthful-- "daughter of Prince William and Giselle of the Sparrow clan, swear, on my life, kingdom, and honor, that whatever I say from here on forth will be the sole truth. Shall I lie, then my fate lies with the stars. Whatever punishment comes my way, I will accept."
"Rise," spoke my grandmother. With slight difficulty, I rose to my feet and took my hand off the book. Mordecai me a gentle smile before striding off to the side, where he took a seat in the shade while I made my way over to the empty stand in front of the second deity, climbing the steps until I sat in the seat, my eyes trained on the second floor.
"Welcome to the regius atrium, Your Highness," the owner of the crown flames greeted. "My name is Emilia Lakesyn; I am the new Head of the Cimerian Court."
You know, at this point, I'm pretty sure the universe has joined in on this fun game of "Let's See How Much Bad Luck Park Can Endure."
Emilia Lakesyn turned over one of the papers in front of her and raised her voice. "Abigail Blackewell, do you recognize the witness, Park Mai Alexandra Sparrow?"
Just Park is fine, I thought, tempted to glance over at Abigail, but I knew I was to keep my gaze steady and straight. No stray glances.
"Yes, I do," Abigail answered with a clear, unwavering tone, clear of guilt or reluctance.
"Lady Blackewell, you have been accused of arson, kidnapping, and attempted assassination. Your actions have spanned the course of several years, and your sole target was Park Sparrow. Are these accusations true?"
"Yes." Abigail paused. "They are all true."
A hiss snaked through the room, from the second floor to the ground, as people turned their heads and began whispering, their fingers and glares directed at Abigail. My eyes sharpened at her words. Did this mean she was truly behind everything, even the attacks that the perpetrators had claimed she'd no hand in? Or was Abigail lying on the stand to protect someone?
Emilia fixed her glasses, cleared her throat, and began to read a very, very long list of everything I had been through, starting from when I was ten. Oh, how I remembered my first kidnapping--it was like rainbows compared to Easkey. My second kidnapping went a little worst, but not as bad as my third. On and on, I was asked to confirm if I had been victim to a certain event. Once I did, the question would be passed over to Abigail, who explained her actions behind the plan in greater detail.
As the list became more current, the more my answers began to veer towards: "I don't know if Abigail was behind that attack." Because I remembered them being actual attempts of assassination, of guns held against my head as my captors threatened to end my life on the spot, mentioning nothing about a ransom or a bargain for the throne.
But Abigail continued to answer in the affirmative, taking full blame for everything. She's covering for someone, I realized after the Halloween incident was brought up. Black Mask had practically boasted about his capability to end my life. My nails dug into my pants, pinching at my skin as Abigail described exactly how she orchestrated the kidnapping of her own son and Sophia, how she wanted me dead once and for all after that incident.
The questioning went on for quite some time. Emilia Lakesyn had flipped over ten sheets of paper by the time she concluded with the Easkey incident. Finally, she cleared her throat again and leaned forward in her seat, her piercing stare meeting mine.
"Alec Darkwood," Emilia began and a knot tightened in my stomach. "Witnesses have claimed that he had worked with Abigail during his supposed death. And then, after meeting you, he has been accused of treason again for turning against the royal clan to join Abigail Blackewell and her attempts for the crown."
I gritted my teeth and my fingers tightened around the bracelet Alec had given me as Emilia asked, "What is the truth on Alec Darkwood?"
My mouth opened, but the words spoken weren't mine.
"When he was ten, he lost his family," Abigail began. Breaking my rule, I snapped my eyes towards her, watching as she sat up straighter and placed her hands on the stand. "He had been sent to boarding school. I sent a few of my supporters after him, making it seem as though the queen had ordered the attack on his life so that I could spurn his loyalty. Ever since then, I've kept brainwashing him."
Abigail lifted her head and heaved a heavy sigh. "I manipulated many of the people that worked alongside with me. I made them believe they were doing the right thing, that the royal clan didn't deserve the throne. Alec Darkwood was no exception. It wasn't until I began to seriously considering taking Park Sparrow's life did he question my actions. I believe Park was able to save him when they first met. His second return to me was not out of treason but out of loyalty for her. He had double-crossed me."
Another wave of whispers rippled throughout the atrium. I caught a glimpse of Vincent's face as he looked down at his mother , carrying an expression torn between pain and fury. Flynn was gripping the banister, his knuckles white as the marble, the shadows on his face more prominent than ever.
"Park Sparrow, can you confirm Abigail's statements?" Emilia Lakesyn inquired.
I took a deep breath. "Alec Darkwood is not a traitor, Your Honor, nor will he ever be. He has, time and time again, proven his loyalty to the royal clan. His actions before were that of an individual roped into events that he had no control over."
I was waiting for someone--one of the Fells or the Whitepines--to call our clan out on the lies we fed the media about how he had been kidnapped alongside Jasper, how we had hid the truth. I was prepared to lie. It had been my reckless decision, my responsibility to own up to.
But no one said anything. Emilia Lakesyn gave one curt nod beore she removed her glasses. "Your Highness Park Sparrow," she announced, "the Court thanks you for your integrity and honor in the regius atrium today. You are dismissed."
The talking grew louder and louder as I stood and descended the steps, my cream heels clicking against the spotless floors. I cast a look towards Abigail, who was watching me with an emotionless stare. At the last second, her lips turned into a smile before she glanced away and Mordecai was ushering me out into the corridor.
Instead of leading me back into the main hall of the building, he took me further down one smaller hallway until he stopped by yet another black door. I hesitated in my tracks, eyeing the room that he was gesturing to with skepticism.
"That's only for the heads of the clans," I pointed out. I would know--I had taken a lot of effort trying to eavesdrop on the clans when they discussed Archer's trial eight years ago. Let me tell you that those people know how to whisper.
"It was requested that you wait in here, Your Highness," Mordecai explained, gesturing into the bright room. "The heads of the clan wish to discuss something with you."
Oh, gods, I thought with dread. This ought to be fun.
Thanking Mordecai, I headed into the room. The arching windows had no drapes to cover the glass, so the sunlight of the dying Cimerian winter shone through. There was a long, oak table set in the middle of the room with twelve seats. Twelve colored sashes donned the wood. Beautifully painted landscapes were hung on the walls, each of them depicting the grounds of the clans.
I plopped myself on the black cushion on the largest window seat, allowing the warmth to spread over my body. I tugged the dark red blazer I had on tighter around my body, wondering why the clans possibly requested my presence in this room. It was probably to complain about the mess the Dragons and I made. Again.
The wait wasn't so long. While I sat reflecting on Abigail's confessions, thinking of reasons why she would claim credit for everything and why she had protected Alec, the door slammed open. Twelve figures marched into the room, all of them bickering loudly.
"What's the princess doing in this room?" Lord Henry Blackewell asked, gawking at me as he took his seat at the table, obviously confused by my presence.
"There's the Sparrow I need!" Lord Frederick crowed as he came to a stop before me, his lips turned upward in an expression too sinister to be considered a smile. Tall, fair-haired, with a bright smile and poison in his eyes, Frederick Fell wielded both charisma and fear.
"You and your clan reported Alec Darkwood as a victim you found alongside your cousin, Jasper Bishop, when you rescued them. However, if Blackewell speaks the truth, then she sent him to harm your clan. Why did you not turn him over to the authorities then?" he inquired, his tone light, though the malice in his eyes warned otherwise.
"Because I told her not to," my grandmother intervened before I could answer. An exchange of murmurs ran through the group. "When I heard of the misfortune that the boy suffered--a boy of a clan under your protection, Frederick--I immediately planed on extending a royal pardon, which, if I remember from the law degree I spent years practicing, the thirteenth code of the Cimerian Court permits so long as the pardon is reported within a year of it being made."
"This is clearly a misuse of power!" Lady Serena Whitepine snarled. "I say let the boy be judged under a regius trial as well!"
Elijah let out a sharp peal of laughter. "It's not a misuse of power," he argued with a vicious smile. "The law grants the king or queen three royal pardons throughout their entire reign, and if memory serves, she's only used one--on your nephew, Serena. You weren't arguing about a misuse of power then."
"Your Majesty," Lord Christophe Kingsley chimed in, overriding Lady Serena's huff of offense. "Brainwashed or not, he tried to kill Jasper and your granddaughter, who, at that time, was in line to be the crown princess!"
Lady Viria Starkling made a feral noise. "He's an eighteen-year-old boy! He should not be punished for treason if Her Majesty says it's not necessary!"
"The law is law," Lady Ella Roseway stated coldly. "The thirteenth code decrees that the pardon must not compromise the safety of the kingdom or the royal clan. Clearly, the boy had set out with intentions to harm."
"He wouldn't have had those intentions if someone took care of him properly," added Flynn with a sneer, jaded eyes directed Lord Frederick.
"He has a point, Fell," Lord Nicholai Fairling spoke up. If Lord Frederick was phased by the accusations, he didn't show it. Like always, he maintained the air of complete indifference. "Had you taken your duties more responsibly, the boy would've never fallen victim to Abigail."
"He's also played a great role in taking her down. He was our insider. He helped construct Easkey into a trap," Lord Lancelot Cross advocated. "He has been nothing but loyal to the kingdom since Park encountered him."
"Enough is enough," my grandmother snapped, a fire burning in her eyes. "Alec Darkwood went through a dark experience, but I will not label it as true treason. My granddaughter saved one o our own. Her judgment may have been reckless and built purely on theory and hope, but it proved to be good judgment. There will be no more talk of a trial for the boy. I will be giving him a full royal pardon from his past. Now, may we move onto the matter that we are supposed to discuss?"
A fragile tension hung in the air after my grandmother's decree. No one dared to protest. No one dared to say anything at all.
"Well, you all know my vote for where Blackewell should go," Lord Frederick spoke up. "I'll be accompanying the young princess to where she needs to be."
With a hand on my shoulder, Lord Frederick began steering me out of the room. My grandmother protested, but he only laughed at her reaction. "I'm not going to bite her head off, Eliza. But I do apologize for breaking policy by bringing her in here."
"That's not why I was going to say," my grandmother frowned. "The actions and discussions taken place in this room may not be given out to any form of media, do you understand, Frederick?"
"Of course I do," he answered shortly as we stood in the doorway. Elijah was halfway out of his seat and Flynn looked prepared to pounce on Frederick. "I would never do anything that would harm you, Eliza."
I mean, that was up for debate, but okay.
"Frederick--" my grandmother pressed, but he closed the door without another word and took his hand off my shoulder. The lord walked with both wrists crossed behind his back, the only way a noble could walk alongside royalty. Discomfort pulsed through my bones. Everything about the Fells made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. They were snakes and charmers, waiting to strike the moment your guard was let down.
"You are unbelievably resilient, little princess," Lord Frederick mused. Whether it was a compliment or complaint, I couldn't tell. It was most likely a complaint.
"It's in my blood," I reasoned with a half-smile and a shrug.
"That's a fortunate sign from the stars." Lord Frederick glanced over at me. "You should be happy to know that Abigail Blackewell will never again come near you after today. That should help your streak of resilience last."
"The sentence is life then?"
"No question about it. Her fate was sealed the moment the clans knew what she had done. Now it's simply a matter of where she'll be staying."
Lord Frederick returned me to the door leading to the regius atrium, eyeing my bewildered stare with amusement. Five guards now stood on both sides of the doors, all of them bowing when we came into view. Lord Frederick explained nothing, though, but merely accompanied me into the atrium, which was now void of people. There were no hushed conversations traveling through the hall. Our steps were the only sound audible in the vast area until someone made a scathing noise from her stand.
"I requested the Sparrow, not a Fell," drawled Abigail as she looked down at us, looking rather peeved.
"I was about to tell the young princess that Abigail Blackewell had requested a private audience with her before the final verdict is delivered," Lord Frederick said. "I was also hoping to decipher exactly what this audience could possibly be about."
Abigail leered at him. "It's private for a reason, Frederick. But if you're dying to know, it's about my family. I was hoping Park could convey my feelings to them, seeing as how she's a family person and cares for the people around her. Unlike you."
"I would praise you for your wit, Blackewell, but at least I'm not shackled to a stand." Lord Frederick's grin was practically cruel. But then he turned to me, and the playful wickedness sharpened into something more dangerous. "I don't like liars, little princess. Do keep that in mind the next time you play the hero. The clans deserve to know everything, or I will make sure that your family will be punished properly for playing with the law."
"Threatening the Sparrow when there's no one here to protect her? How low, Frederick," Abigail scoffed. The hostility faded from Lord Frederick's eyes as he looked back up to Abigail.
"Threatening? No, not at all. I'm simply an advocate of justice and order," he stated, smiling once again. "I heard your husband's suggesting the Russian XYZ detainment center."
Hurt flashed across Abigail's expression as Lord Frederick issued a respectful bow to me. "Scream if she tries to kill you again. The guards will be here in no time," Lord Frederick advised before sauntering back towards the door, slamming it shut behind him.
"Normally, I'd apologize on his behalf," I commented, "especially since he's such an asshole. But I'm pretty sure you deserved those words."
"It's a pleasure to hear your insulting voice." The hurt was gone and Abigail smiled casually down at me, a pale brow raised as I came closer to her stand. It was unsettling to see her so aloof towards everything. In the past, had anyone said a word out of line, Abigail would've transformed into a fire-breathing monster--kind of like Maleficent did, except Abigail wasn't fantastically evil enough to be a dragon.
"Family business?" I inquired. "Curious you should be asking for me if that's the subject and not Vincent, who's, you know, your son."
"After nearly dying, haven't you reconsidered your bratty attitude?" she snorted, though her features hardened at the mention of Vincent.
"Hey, now--the only one who gets to sass here is the one not locked up to a chair. So leave the sarcasm to moi," I said. When Abigail didn't reply, I sighed in frustration. "Why do you want me here?" I asked. "Are you going to spin some long tale about your never really meant to hurt me? Should I prepare for some ridiculous sob story meant to manipulate me into lessening your sentence?"
"I don't have much time," Abigail finally spoke. "The Court has only given me ten minutes to speak to you. So hear me out and believe me when I tell you that you are in great danger."
"Gee, I wonder how I spent the other eight years of my life as. It definitely wasn't safe and sound, let me tell you that."
"My motive was never to kill you," she interrupted, rolling her eyes at my retorts. Irritation flashed through me.
"Really? I've suffered through eight years of your power-hungry antics, and you're starting your plea with that bullshit line?"
"Sometimes, I really wanted to strangle you," she said, curling her lips at me. "But your life was never my goal, simply your family's dethronement. Everything I did for five years was to get the crown taken away from your grandmother. Your actions were supposed to disgrace the Sparrow name to the point where the clans and Court, pressured by the people, would be forced to strip your titles of royalty. But for some gods-forsaken reason, no one spoke against you."
"I'm likable."
"Debatable." Her gaze grew sharp. "After numerous attempts and failures, I decided to accept an anonymous extension of help. You noticed that after Barcelona, it wasn't just kidnappings anymore?"
Against my will, puzzle pieces that had floated amiss in my head began to fall into place at her suggestion, and apprehension ran through my blood. "You set a mansion on fire," I said aloud. "People died because they misplaced their trust in you. Do not make me stand on my sprained ankle any longer than I have to."
"I didn't know that little demon Marila would douse the damn mansion with gasoline without my knowledge!" snapped Abigail. "There's something wrong with that girl, and I didn't find her. I don't hire pyromaniacs. No, she worked for a different power, lent to me so that they could keep an eye on my plan of action. The same power that offered me resources, intelligence, cooperation. They said that they supported my movement against the royal clan. I didn't realize that they had other goals until I saw the words 'attempt' and 'assassination' flashing across the news following your name. They were the ones that wanted you dead, not me. And they refused to let me go."
Barcelona. Paris. Luxembourg. Amsterdam. Beijing. Halloween in Paradise. Abigail was right--all of them were attempts to kill. "You've gotten a lot of encounters with her people, haven't you? Unfortunately for you, we're not with her. Our orders were to kill you when the time came."
Every bone in my body was screaming at me that Abigail couldn't be trusted, but a clairvoyance cleared up the fog in my mind. The increased violence and destruction in the attacks, how I ended up surviving with more scars than I was used to--it all made sense.
Someone had bigger plans in store for me--plans I wasn't meant to survive.
"There are others out there, Park, and I know you believe me. Others worse than me. Others capable of bringing terrible change to this country. They want blood to run through the streets and you're the first on their list. They don't want just power, they want your body six feet in the ground with a tombstone over your head."
"Who are they?" I asked.
"You think they showed me their faces? I don't even know if it's one person behind this or five. Whoever it is wasn't foolish enough to trust me. I was their scapegoat. If Easkey failed, she would've killed you and I would've been pinned responsible. Of course they weren't going to let me near the Courts with any valuable knowledge."
"You can't spend eight years making my life a living hell and not walk away with something to make up for it."
"I'm trying to repent, Park, I did my best."
"You're doing a shitty job of repenting. 'By the way, Park, let me warn you of another external force hoping to end your existence, but sorry, I don't know their names.'"
"Don't make me wish you died."
A sharp knock was heard on the door and Abigail cut off her voice, swallowing a gulp. Her fear wrapped around her like a cloak, her eyes wide and panicked as she leaned forward in the stand.
"I'm going to be punished for failing at Easkey, and that means someone will be after Vincent and Henry. They're going to kill them, sooner or later, and I can't go away without doing my best to protect my family."
Abigail's chains rattled as she clasped her hands together and stared earnestly down at me. "It's why I requested an audience with you. To warn you and to beg for your help. You're strong, little Sparrow. You've defied all the laws of the universe simply because of your will to survive. I've watched you beat the odds for years. That's what you are: the epitome of resilience. If anyone can bring them down, it's you. Protect my son. Do what I couldn't."
The door flew open and Emilia Lakesyn strolled in, her robes billowing around her long legs like a sea of obsidian, her glasses askew on her nose. "Your Highness," she greeted. "The verdict has been decided--your meeting will have to end."
Sharing one last look with Abigail, I began to follow Emilia. But right before I passed out of her sight, I stopped and looked back up to her. If these people are as dangerous as she says, then they'll know about this meeting. I have to make it sound like she hadn't revealed anything.
"Fine. I'll tell your family you love them. Is that all you wanted from me?"
Abigail blinked, her smile tinged with sadness. "Tell Vincent I'm sorry."
Emilia Lakesyn hurried me out of the room. As we headed further into the hall, I saw the line of Court and clan members filing past us. They acknowledged me with a respectful nod of the head and a quiet, "Your Highness," before entering through a separate door (though Lady Serena wasn't very subtle with her frown). Lord Frederick walked with my grandmother, who took my hand quickly as she passed and squeezed it before the two disappeared.
"I wish time allowed for more formalities," Emilia sighed. "But since I must head in as well, I'm afraid I can only offer my sincerest apologies on my family's behalf, Your Highness. I do not condone their treasonous actions and I will be dedicating my time to tracking down my niece and placing her and my father in prison, where they belong. Please, do not consider me an enemy."
I was still in a daze from my meeting with Abigail. Enemies, allies--the words began to distort and blend together in my mind as I struggled to wrap my head around it. This isn't over, I thought, my heartbeat picking up.
"Your Highness?" Emilia inquired, gently touching my shoulder. I jerked back to reality, desperately wanting to ind my brother.
"I won't be able to forgive Marila and Robert for what they've done to my family," I said, smiling apologetically. "But I won't hold you to their actions. I'm sorry for my rudeness, but can you tell me were to find my brother?"
Relief flushed her face before she lifted a hand, her robes hanging off her arms like silk curtains, and pointed left. "Last I saw him, he had elected to remain in the main hall with a few others. I would accompany you, but--"
"No, it's perfectly fine," I smiled. "Thank you for your sincerity, Emilia, I won't forget it." Without a moment to spare, I hurried off. Through my confusion and growing panic,a s well as the pain from my stitches and ankle, finding my way through the maze of hallways took some time. Finally, though, I found myself standing by the large black doors. The trial was in session, but there were a few individuals left in the hall.
Turning my head, I saw my brothers and Logan gathered by one of the windows. Jasper had thrown his head back and was laughing at something when he spotted me. "Park!" he cried, waving me over. At my approach, Logan raised a hand out to me, But Archer smacked it down, glaring at Logan as his eyes flickered over to the other nobles scattered in the hall. Matthew Fairling muttered something that Olivia Whitepine punched him for, snapping an audible, "Do you want Archer Sparrow to bash you into a window?"
"Archer," I panted, feeling slightly out of breath, desperately trying to erase the feeling building in my chest. I'm not there anymore, I thought. This isn't Easkey. There's no fire, there's no fire. Breathe. I can still breathe.
Jasper placed an arm around my back while Logan ran his fingers through his hair, his muscles strained as he held back from comforting me. "Are you okay?" my little brother asked quietly. "Did you have another panic attack?"
"Do you need to sit down?" Archer asked, holding his arms out to me.
"No, no, I'm fine," I reassured them. I couldn't tell if I was out of breath form power-walking through Drageryian Hall, or if it was because I knew that Easkey wasn't going to be the darkest hours of my life anymore.
It's not over. The fact sent my head spiraling as the sensation of panic, of desperation, of hopelessness clawed at my chest. Why couldn't I find it in me to have strength? Why did I feel so afraid?
"Little Sparrow," Archer sang, pulling me into his arms, his hand resting on the back of my head. "I'm right here. We're all right besides you. Now tell me if you need to get out of here."
I shook my head, pulling back from him. This was going to change everything and he needed to know immediately. "Is there somewhere--" I began, but my speech was interrupted as the black doors creaked open and the crowd began to pile out.
"Wow, is it over already?" Jasper mused, turning his attention to the crowd. Instantly, the boys pushed me behind them, shielding me from the crowd as people trickled on by, their voices rising and fusing together. I couldn't make out a single thing anyone was shouting. The clamor only grew louder as the person of interest, Abigail Blackewell, was being led out by two guards. She held her head high as she marched out of the doors, ignoring the reporters jamming their microphones in her way.
Good luck to you, Abigail, I thought in farewell as she moved on, her figure vanishing among the people jostling past us to get a look at her. Archer slowly drew me away from the crowd, towards the window, where he shrunk down against the glass.
"So what was it you wanted to say?" Archer asked in my ear. Logan had taken advantage of the crowd to link my hand with his while Jasper stood guard.
Just then, a tall figure pushed his way through the crowd, shouting for my name. It was hard to hear him at first, but I soon recognized the voice to be Flynn's. Curious, I moved away from the boys just as he wove his way through the sea of bodies and came to a stop before us, eyes bright. Weeks of stress had somehow been wiped away by the energy brimming about him.
Flynn grabbed my wrist and with a smile, said, "Alec's awake."
* * *
i always feel a need to justify long chapters, just bc i feel bad about them being so damn long:
[1] world development! i actually really wanted to extend and expand on Court and laws and trials as well as give insight to the functions of all twelve clans! i never touched on it in the original and felt awful about it
[2] to address all the issues never address properly in the original *ahem alec's original traitor-ness* which i blatantly ignored it in the past and i had to include it in this chapter because...
[3] it's the end of this first book, so all necessary details needed to be wrapped up must be addressed between this chapter and the next two. i couldn't move the aspects of this chapter into another one because it would make no sense, and i couldn't split it because either, so i profusely apologize for the gigantic mess this is.
hopefully it was to some enjoyment, even if there's no fluff or cuteness. it's mainly a set up for the sequel, 'I'll Defend You', which I will talk more about later!
ciao for now --and sorry again -- knee