CHAPTER 63

CHAPTER 63

AUREN

Instead of applause at theking’s announcement, the square grows quiet and anticipatory. As if everyone’s waiting to hear what’s going to be said next. Just in front of the stage, sitting on a slightly raised platform, sits a few dozen people. They’re all dressed finely, clothing of nobles, but my eyes immediately find one face in particular in the crowd, sitting with his husband.

Manu.

He gives me the quickest glance before he looks away, and maybe I’m wrong, but I swear, I see the slimmest slice of guilt flash over his expression. He tried to tell me that the Conflux was going to be nothing more than a slap on the wrist, but this certainly doesn’t feel like a slap on the damn wrist.

It’s nothing personal, Doll.

Except, it was.

It is.

I start to turn away, but my attention then snags onto a young boy sitting just in front of me. He’s wearing nearly the same white robe that Isolte wears, except his head is bare, showing off dark blond hair. He’s young, maybe around ten years old, and based on the guards standing at his back, my guess is he’s Second Kingdom’s heir.

I wonder how many Confluxes he’s witnessed.

“Let us state the claims against the accused.”

My eyes snap to King Merewen.

Standing in front of his chair, he looks around the gathered crowd. The hairs in his long gray mustache curl slightly, the ends looking like they’ve been dipped in egg yolk, yellowed with age.

“The accused is here because witnesses have stated they saw the Lady Auren kill King Midas.”

The crowd doesn’t murmur, doesn’t make a sound; instead, they get even quieter. It’s almost eerie as I feel their silent attention drift to me, hundreds of eyes flocking around my body.

Taking deep breaths, I gulp down enough air until I’m able to think past the last echoes of pain that Isolte held me in. I don’t believe in killing without thought. But her? I would gladly fucking gild her ass, just for her abuse of power alone. Because if she’s done this to me, who knows how many other people she’s done it to?

It is my duty as a patron of sanctity.

What a load of horse shit. I glare at her through the bars of the ca—

No. My mind slams down protective walls. I won’t call it that. I’m not in a cage. I’m just in a pillared enclosure. This is where everyone in a Conflux goes. It’s just stone. My gold could tear it down in a blink.

The tiny ball of gold I’d dropped has rolled, but luckily, one of the stone rods has blocked it from going out of reach. Without trying to be obvious, I reach my foot out until I’m touching it with the tip of my pinky toe. One good thing about this robe is that it hides the ball from view. I’d step on it if I could, but the bottoms of my feet are in far too much pain. I don’t know if I’m too weakened by Isolte’s abuse to make any new gold, so maybe if I can just control the ball, get it to move up my leg and get it back to my hand...

Yet the moment I start to even think of channeling my power, gold abruptly gathers at my fingertips. I’m caught off guard for a moment at the immediate liquid that starts to collect, and I clasp the poles in front of me, letting it soak into the stone, keeping the liquid metal hidden beneath my grip. It’s gathering quicker than it was before, even with the toll on my body, like I’m not even having to try. And something about that feels...off.

But I have to work quickly. Before Queen Isolte can use her power on me again. Before she can cut my proverbial knees right from under me, crippling my magic. So I let it gather, trying not to be obvious, and at first, the more I gather, the more bolstered I feel.

Until I realize that I can’t stop it.

It’s like I’ve been turned into a leaky faucet, uncontrollable drips spilling from my skin, gathering more and more. I try to curl my fingers and palms, try to hide as drips start to slip out and dribble down my arms so I don’t alert Isolte, but it won’t stop.

Not only can I not stop it, but I also can’t direct it either. I have no control whatsoever. Like a raincloud suddenly deciding to sprinkle, it’s become an irrepressible force.

Something is wrong.

I keep my hands fisted tight, not daring to move them. Luckily, what’s dripping down from my hands to my arms is hidden beneath the sleeves of my dress. But some of it catches against the fabric and stains in blotches. Then, more of it spills out from the edge of my palm. When the first bead drops to the floor, my eyes follow its descent. And that’s when my gaze notices the symbol etched into the tile beneath my burnt feet.

What is that?

I’m so distracted by the strange circular patterns engraved into the floor, that I don’t notice that King Merewen has walked over until the nearness of his voice jolts my head back up. With wrinkles set into his olive-toned skin and the flat patches of gray hair on his head, he must be at least a couple of decades older than his wife. I rack my brain, trying to remember what his power is, and then recall his ability has to do with finding sources of water. For a desert kingdom, it’s quite a handy trick.

“The accused is here because witnesses have stated the Lady Auren is a thief of power,” he declares, gesturing toward me.

All the other monarchs are staring, gazes needling into the side of my face like they want to pierce their glares right through me.

“How do you answer to this accusation?”

I swallow hard, sweat gathering at the trim of my hair, pooling beneath my breasts and itching down my temples. “My answer is that there is no one here that witnessed how he died.” More drops of gold from my palms fall to the ground. But I can’t do anything with it. Can’t guide it. Can’t make it gather together or solidify or move out of this enclosure.

What the hell is happening?

I tighten my grip, attempt to gild the pole, but I can’t even do that. Because of my movement, the king’s eyes drop to my slicked palms, and his lips part in surprise. Isolte is watching me too, and from beneath her long sleeves, I wonder if she’s about to press me down and wring me out.

I need my gold. It’s here, it’s continuing to drip, and I start shaking in concentration and panic, trying to get it to move, to use the only advantage I have, but I can’t.

King Merewen’s gaze flicks from my strained fingers to my tight face, and he grins. “Ah, I see. Allow me to give you a little history, girl,” he says beneath his breath. “My great-grandfather had the power of runes. And the one you’re standing on? It drains a person’s magic out of them, like squeezing out a tube, but you won’t be able to use it so long as you’re in there. It just reveals.”

My eyes go wide.

With a satisfied look, he turns back toward the other monarchs and says, “So, the accused has alluded that there were no witnesses. Queen Kaila, as the only living monarch present who was in Ranhold that night, what is your response to this?”

I watch as she gets to her feet, sleeveless dress pooling at the ground like a ripple of water, her crown set atop her thick, wavy hair. “My response is to present the actual words spoken that night to the Conflux with the use of my magic,” she says, and my blood goes cold as she turns and defers to the king. “With approval from the gathered monarchs, of course.”

All hands from the royals lift slightly, apparently giving their permission.

King Merewen nods. “Proceed, Queen Kaila.”

Even though I brace myself for hearing it, it’s no less shocking when my words, my voice is suddenly streamed from her lips like a rivulet of vapor. Magic bristles in the air as I’m wrenched back to that night, my bodiless words echoing across the square, filling the spaces and ears of everyone gathered.

“Don’t touch him.”

My voice shouts out with fury, making several people in the crowd flinch back and look around as if they’re trying to see who spoke.

“What are you doing, Auren? Get away from him right now and come to me.”

Hearing Midas’s voice makes me flinch. Makes my grip on the poles tighten.

He’s dead,I tell myself. He’s gone. But hearing him again, so real, his whole voice bottled up and poured right out for me to hear, makes me want to pitch forward and vomit.

“Come to me,”his voice commands.

Then my reply. Enraged and biting. “Never.”

The crowd was silent and still before, but this disembodied display of impassioned voices has charged the air.

“Lower your swords away from my favored!”Midas’s voice shouts out. It makes him sound protective. Like he’s safeguarding me.

“I’m not your favored.” My reply sounds heated. Crushed out between gnashing teeth.

“Clear the room!”Midas’s shout rings out.

She purposely left out what I’d said before he gave that order. When I told everyone that he was the one who killed Prince Niven, not Slade.

Kaila puffs out more magic. Streams out more words.

But this time, it’s my voice, Lu’s voice, from an entirely different night.

“Thanks for sneaking me in and out. It was nice to spend time with Ravinger.”

I’d said Rip that night. Not Ravinger. Which means Queen Kaila’s power can not only store words, but manipulate them. Cut them off and paste others on to her liking. My stomach twists and curdles, saliva flooding my mouth.

“I’m sure. Better company than the golden prick, huh?”Lu’s voice echoes out.

“Much better.”

Now, the crowd can’t keep quiet. There’s a shuffle of noise through the masses, gathering, collecting, passing their judgments.

“It was him?”Midas’s accusation now makes it seem like the perfect scorned lover.

“We’re leaving.”

People stare daggers at me, faces twisted into sneers.

Another exhale, and this time, it’s Queen Kaila’s voice herself from that night. “It’s clear that her loyalty lies with Fourth Kingdom. Let her lose her favor. It’s what she deserves.”

Then Midas’s voice sounding pleading. “Auren, come here right now.”

“Never.”

Another word out of context, used to her narrative’s benefit.

“You want to leave? To be the whore of King Rot?” Midas’s voice spits.

“Better the whore to the man at my back than the favored to you,” comes my reply. “We’re leaving. You’d be wise to do the same.”

The way she’s reenacting this makes it very clear that I meant it as a threat.

“You want to leave, Auren? Then go. Let Ravinger’s pollution leave this kingdom.”

The poor, rejected king, giving up his favored.

Kaila doesn’t make it known what really happened next, doesn’t make it clear that we did try to leave. No. Instead, she makes it sound like Midas was this spurned, betrayed king who was letting me walk away.

Which of course, isn’t true at all.

Queen Kaila pauses, looks out at the crowd. “Lady Auren refused to leave. She attacked Midas right in front of me, and when he tried to use his gold to protect himself, he couldn’t.” Her head shakes and she makes a somber sniff, gathering more and more sympathy from the watchful faces. “Lady Auren was jealous he had announced his engagement to me. In her rage to get back at him, she seduced King Ravinger, and then she attacked.”

My teeth grind together. Heart pounding against my skull. I don’t know what’s more prevalent, my anger, fear, or exhaustion.

“This next part is violent,” she goes on. “I caution anyone with young children or sensitive dispositions to cover their ears.”

Then she blows out another breath.

This time, there aren’t voices that she feeds out, but screams. They rend out across the square, clacking against the walls, making the people balk and cringe and look at me with horror. The noises ring in my ears, my memories lining up with each one. I can see the guards swallowed by gold, melted through, sliced and slashed and smothered.

I did that.

Just like I was responsible for the carnage at Carnith.

Then there’s Midas’s voice. Tinged with the timbre of his plea. “Auren.”

I can feel it—how the crowd turns on me. The pity they feel for King Midas. I’m already the villain in their eyes. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that being the villain isn’t always a bad thing.

“Thank you, Queen Kaila,” the king announces. “But one must ask, were you in the room while King Midas was killed? Did you witness it firsthand?”

Kaila pauses before answering, “No, King Merewen. I had to flee.”

“Flee? Why is that?”

“Because Lady Auren didn’t just trick and kill the king,” Kaila states. “She also holds a dark power that none of us knew.”

“What power?”

Her sharp eyes look straight ahead, like a performer delivering her perfected lines to the audience. “I witnessed Lady Auren stealing Midas’s gold-touch. And she killed him with it, just as she tried to kill me.”

The crowd erupts into gasps and whispers.

King Merewen looks at me. “How does the accused respond?”

“I didn’t steal anything,” I grit out.

I don’t trust these monarchs. What if they want to keep me in here and force me to gild things just like Midas? They have a goal in mind for this Conflux, otherwise they wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to kidnap me. If I defend myself, will they only use it against me?

“No?”

“No,” I reply through gritted teeth. “I didn’t steal Midas’s magic.”

In the worst timing imaginable, all the gold that’s been gathering beneath my grip starts to dribble down the poles in thick streams.

The gathered throng erupts with exclamations, fingers pointed, eyes widened.

“It’s true!”

“She’s got King Midas’s power!”

I glare at the crowd, trying to scream back. “It’s not his power! It never was!” My voice is inconsequential. Drowned out by a sea come to wash me away.

“She’s a thief, a cheat!”

“Guilty! Guilty!”

I yank my hands away from the thin pillars, but all that does is ensure that gravity is not on my side. Now, gold no longer drips slowly from my hands. It floods out of my skin, streaming from my fingers to puddle on the floor. It soaks the bottoms of my burnt feet, staining the hem of my dress, gathering higher, but being contained by some invisible barrier that doesn’t allow it to pass the poles.

“Guilty!”

It’s like being cut open at the wrists and watching myself bleed. I can’t stop the flow, but I can feel its deluge draining out of me, weakening me even more.

That’s when I notice threads of black appear inside the gold.

At first, it’s just a single line of it that drips down in a heavy, dense drop and splashes at my feet. Then there’s more, until it’s streaking through every single rivulet, like someone has dumped black ink and swirled it around.

What is that?

The gold is pouring out of me now, and I know the monarchs are speaking, know the throng is shouting, but my ears are ringing, heart pounding, because these dark lines...they look like—

“Great Divine.”

My head jerks up at Queen Kaila’s voice, at the way she’s pointing at me, the shock on her face so apparent that I’d bet nearly everyone in the crowd can see. “She stole King Rot’s power too!”

She screams it.

And the crowd screams with her.

But I’m in too much of a shock to say anything at all, because she’s right. Those are the same seeking strands that Slade spreads through the ground, the same veins that writhe beneath his skin.

In some sick twist of fate, these lines of rot are spreading, digging, tunneling through my gold like roots twisting through to grow a plethora of festering weeds, right here for everyone to see. Rot sprouting from that single speck that Slade left inside of me, the seed that we thought was dormant.

“She stole gold-touch! Now she stole rot! She can steal more!”

“Guilty! Guilty! Guilty!”

My world tips. I stumble back against the poles, feet splashing in the pooled up metal. I need this pull on my magic to stop, need to cut it off, yank it out, but I can’t.

I was drugged for days, I’m dehydrated. Hot. Exhausted. My feet are charred. Every place where Queen Isolte tortured me feels like one crushing wound. My magic is gushing out of me with a deadly and unstoppable force, and I’m trapped.

I’m trapped.

My whole body starts to tremble, eyes flaring around wildly, heart feeling like it’s too big for my chest, too thundering for my pulse.

“Monarchs, give your vote!”

Every single one of them joins the voices of the crowd.

Guilty, guilty, guilty.

King Merewen turns to his people. “The royal Conflux rules that she is guilty!”

The voices of the crowd spread into a thousand cracks.

“The verdict is immediate execution.”

And everything around me shatters.

Guilty guilty guilty.