Broken Veil (Harbinger #5)(96)

Sera closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him to her with all her might. “I can’t believe you are saying this,” she whispered. “I would never have asked you to do it. I wouldn’t have dared hope for it.”

He pressed a kiss against her head. “I know, love. It wouldn’t have happened before the nightmare we went through. But these trials we’ve seen have bent me into a better shape.”

She looked into his face and leaned up on her tiptoes to reach his lips with hers. It was just as delicious as she remembered and stirred up all those familiar feelings in her heart. The surge of relief, of joy, of satisfaction radiated from the tip of her nose to the soles of her feet. She let the wave carry her.

“Are you sure, Trevon?” she asked him after their kiss, stroking his bottom lip with her fingertip.

“I am sure, Sera. But let’s ask the Aldermaston all the same. I’m thinking I would like to spend some time at the abbey. Learn what you have learned. See for myself how it matches with the traditions that I was taught. Perhaps I’ll take the Test myself someday.”

She gripped the front of his coat. “You’ve given me my heart’s desire.”

He stroked some hair away from her forehead and then kissed her there. “I know you are good at cleaning up messes. Let me help you this time.”





It’s been two months since I last wrote in this journal. These will be looked back on by others, and what can I say that has not already been said? These words may be of benefit to a future generation who did not live when the mirror gates allowed us to travel between worlds. The histories will reference names like General Leon Montpensier, but they will forget the flawed, ambitious man and only remember his deeds. They will forget the self-sacrifice of Trevon Argentine, who forsook a kingdom to live among people who were bitter and resentful of his homeland.

How can I, with this meager pen, relate such events? I will do my best.

Lord Welles chose exile instead of execution. He and those who speculated on his success have been banished to the island of Tenby. It is in the southern hemisphere on the other side of the world. It will take years before they’ve advanced to the point where they might be able to cross the seas again. They will have no Leerings for heat, light, or water. It would not surprise me if they made Welles their king, though a miserable kingdom it will be. The courts are still full of cases of treason, and the hurricanes will not disembark to Tenby until the end of the year. While the weather is lamentable here, it is strangely calm and beautiful in the southern sphere. Some of the gazettes have faulted the empress for her leniency. Some people are always thirsting for blood.

Mr. Durrant has been a capable prime minister and has already begun implementing the programs Her Majesty decreed. He is shrewd in his placement of officers. It seems the Ministry of Law has finally earned its turn at the helm of power. Yet the empress and her husband are wise to not let any one ministry control the whole. She seeks advice from all the other ministers as well, forming balance in her judgments.

There is one case that has been of especial importance to me. Cettie has had her trial too. I received word from Mr. Teitelbaum that it will be concluded today. The evidence was presented in secret council. The judgment will be pronounced today at the court of justice in Hyde Street here in the Fells. And so I must forsake my pen again. I would be there when the pronouncement is made. I hope it is fair.

—Adam Creigh, Killingworth Hospital





CHAPTER THIRTY?FIVE

THE VERDICT OF CELESTINA PRATT



Cettie sat solemnly at the council’s bench, sitting alongside Mr. Sloan, her advocate. Lady Maren had insisted that the family lawyers represent her case, and she was there as well, sitting on Cettie’s other side, holding her hand beneath the table.

The chief magistrate, Lord Wilcom Coy, sat on an elevated seat. Though his judicial robes and powdered wig were immaculate, he had the haggard look of a man who’d made judgment on hundreds of cases in the months since the mirror gates had all failed. Cettie had watched several people burst into tears as their verdicts were read. Many of them had been deemed guilty of conspiracy and would have to forfeit their lands and titles. How they had wept. The wheels of justice had ground them to dust. It was very intimidating, especially with the crowd of onlookers in the benches behind the wood barrier.

It could have been evening outside, but there were no windows to mark the passage of time. The only light came from Leerings hidden by translucent glass. It was Cettie’s turn at last. Whatever came next, she was comforted by the knowledge Mr. Sloan had done his best to defend her. She did not feel exempt from justice. She embraced it.

“Now hearing,” said the ministry official standing at Lord Coy’s elbow, “the verdict of the case of Celestina Pratt of the Fells.”

Mr. Sloan nodded to the man and leaned back in his chair. He looked completely at ease. Cettie wished she felt equally confident in the outcome.

Lady Maren squeezed her hand again.

Lord Coy cleared his throat. He was a large man with a reddish-brown beard that clashed with the white wig. He had penetrating eyes and a solemn expression.

“Now to the next case at hand,” he said, looking through the papers stacked before him. “This is a complex case, and as such, we saved it for the end of the session today. Lady Fitzroy, our apologies you’ve had to wait so long for a resolution to this matter.”