Allied (Ruined #3)(9)

Not that it mattered now. Barring a miracle, she would rot in a prison for the rest of her life.

I’ll find you. I don’t care if I have to break into every prison in Olso. I’ll find you. Aren’s last words to her rang in her ears, spoken only a couple of weeks ago. She’d believed him at the time. She remembered thinking that of course the most powerful Ruined alive would rescue her.

But reality hit on the journey across the sea. As they put her in the cell. Aren had never even been to Olso. The Ruined were on the brink of war with Lera. She was not his priority, and to hope for a miraculous rescue from him would only bring disappointment.

A shout made her head jerk up, and through the front windows, she saw a huge group of people standing outside the courthouse. Most of them wore black and brown coats—fashion in Olso was much more understated than in Lera—and there were a few red warrior uniforms scattered among them. Some of the people held signs, and she craned her neck to read a few.

WE DEMAND VICTORY.

FIGHT THE RUINED.

A few of the protestors were trying to enter the courthouse, and guards were struggling to keep them back.

Iria felt a tug on her chains, urging her to walk faster, and she turned away from the protestors. The Olso warriors had suffered humiliating defeats in Lera and in their own country, and it seemed not everyone was ready to give up the fight.

The guard opened the door to the courtroom. The benches to her left and right were packed but silent, and she had to blink away tears as she scanned the faces. Many were familiar.

She spotted her parents almost immediately. Her mother hadn’t bothered to turn to see Iria enter. She stood rigidly, staring straight ahead. Iria’s mother was not understanding about even the smallest of things, so she certainly wouldn’t have any sympathy for a traitor daughter. Iria knew this, but it stung anyway. Her father was turned to watch Iria, tears in his eyes, disappointment and anger lining his face.

At the front of the room sat the judge, on a platform elevated slightly over the rest of the room. To the left of the judge was a woman Iria didn’t know—a government official, probably—and to the right was August. King August now, since Olivia had killed almost his entire family. Of all the heirs to the Olso throne, Iria would have chosen August last.

The king wouldn’t normally be present at a trial, but Iria was special. He watched her walk into the room, his face unreadable. He was already an unpopular king, since the people (rightly) blamed him for the Ruined attack on the Olso castle.

A long table was in front of the judge, where Iria was expected to stand during the proceedings. The guard left her at the table without removing the chains around her wrists.

Iria dared a glance over her shoulder. Just behind her was Daven, a boy she had dated briefly a couple of years ago. He glared at her with such contempt that she wished she’d been meaner when she dumped him.

She faced forward again. The judge motioned for the room to quiet down and the hushed whispers around her faded.

“Iria Ubino,” the judge said. “You’ve been charged with treason, murder, and colluding with the enemy. You may speak to these charges, if you wish.”

She clasped her hands together to keep them from shaking. “I never murdered anyone.”

The judge pointed to Iria’s right. “Warrior Rodrigo, can you speak to those charges?”

Iria looked and found Rodrigo standing. He was a warrior she’d known well, before. He had been there when she escaped with Aren, when he and the other warriors killed the Ruined with no warning, no reason.

“Three warriors died when that Ruined, Aren, attacked us and left with Iria,” he said.

Iria faced the judge. “And two Ruined died. The warriors killed them.”

“As they’d been ordered to,” the judge said.

“It was the wrong order.”

“That is not for you to decide. You took an oath to always follow the orders of your leaders. Three warriors died because you did not. Do you have anything else to say with regard to the charges?”

Tears pricked her eyes. There was no miracle coming. She didn’t know what she expected—understanding? Not about the Ruined. Not when Olivia had just burned down a good portion of the castle and killed the royal family.

She peeked at August. The only thing that could possibly save her was a pardon from him.

He stared back at her. His gaze was steely, his eyes dark with the evidence of little sleep. He didn’t even look angry, just . . . empty. Like he couldn’t even bring himself to care. He would not help her.

“They were supposed to be our allies,” she said quietly, turning away from August. She cleared her throat so the whole room could hear. “You sent me there to help them, and then you punish me when I do.”

“Your loyalty should always be to us, not to them.” The judge pushed some papers aside. “I’ve heard all I need to hear.”

“No you have not!” A familiar voice rang through the courtroom. Iria turned with a start to find Bethania standing among the seated crowd, fists clenched. She was so angry that her wild dark curls were practically vibrating. Iria knew the stance well. Bethania was always clenching her fists in the year she and Iria had dated—they’d driven each other crazy.

“Quiet, please,” the judge said.

“She served the warriors loyally for years,” Bethania shouted. Iria had been a warrior for only four short years, but Bethania was prone to exaggeration. “You sent her on impossible assignments, ask her to make friends of the Ruined, and then punish her when she does just that? What kind of person would have stood by while their friend was murdered?”