In Need of Proof

IN NEED OF PROOF

T he doors creak open as the tribunal files back into the room, and I reach for Esme’s left hand, while Zane takes the other.

Granny Hutchen takes her place at the center podium, mouth pressed into a thin line, eyes stormy beneath her silver brows. My pulse quickens. That look can only mean one thing.

Bramble flows to her feet, dark hair tumbling over her shoulders. “Esme Holloway and Zane Valore, this tribunal finds you innocent in the death of Calix Draven. You are hereby released and cleared of all charges.”

The room erupts. Cheers ring out as Esme throws her arms around me, tears glistening on her lashes. “Thank you!”

Zane pulls us both into a bone-crushing hug, his lanky form trembling with relief.

I breathe in the scent of dust and too many days locked in the dungeon without a shower and groan. “You guys smell so bad.”

Esme giggles against me. “You’re not much better.”

We survived this. Without having to use Plan B. As I hoped we would.

Zane releases me and pulls Esme into a kiss that makes me blush.

“You already got her pregnant,” I tease, looking away. “You can’t do it again for at least nine months.”

Zane releases his mate’s lips but keeps his arms around her as he turns to me. “I don’t suppose my house is still available? We’d like to settle down in Hartford Cove.”

Happiness bubbles through me as I turn to Owen, who would know best what’s available.

“No!” The scream rips through the air, sharp as a dagger. “No! This will not stand!”

Mirella Draven lurches to her feet, her gaunt face twisted in rage, while sickly green magic crackles from her wand. “Justice will be served for my son’s murder!”

Time slows as she thrusts her wand forward, aiming at Esme. Green tendrils of malevolent magic burst forth, racing across the courtroom.

“Esme!” The desperate cry tears from my throat.

I’m already moving, flinging myself forward. But Zane is faster.

“No!” He lunges, knocking Esme to the ground beneath him,

But not before the curse strikes her back.

Horror washes over me as a protective barrier shoots up from the floor, a breath too late to save my friend.

In the next heartbeat, Crow appears by Mirella’s side, one hand outstretched to contain her attack. Her other hand whips out, sending the mad witch crumpling with a flash of white light.

“Esme!” I fall to my knees beside them. “Are you okay?”

Zane shifts off of his mate, then reaches for her.

She nods, letting him help her sit up. “I’m okay. Just a little dazed from hitting the floor.”

I shake my head in disbelief, hands shaking as I run them over her, checking for injury. “But…I saw it hit! The curse… ”

Esme gives me a wry smile and lifts the hem of her blouse. There, tucked into the waistband of her skirt, is a torn scrap of fabric. A very familiar symbol blazes silver against the black cloth, the counter spell from the guard’s cloak. She had torn it off and smuggled it beneath her clothes.

I gape at her as understanding clicks into place. “You crafty witch!”

She shrugs, lowering her shirt. “Didn’t want to take any chances, so I kept it close for a little extra insurance. Looks like it has some defensive spells on it, too.”

Zane cups her cheeks. “I love you so much, my clever mate.”

I sit back with a shaky breath. That was too close. But it also fills me with pride that Esme came here, ready to fight if things had gone the other way at her trial. The next time she says she’s weak or a burden, I will remind her of today.

Crow glides over to us and kneels beside Esme, scanning her for signs of a wound. “Are you well?”

Esme nods, tugging her blouse down further as if Crow might somehow spot the pilfered crest. “Yes, I’m fine. Thanks to Zane’s quick reflexes.”

She shoots her mate a grateful smile.

Zane leans in to press a tender kiss to her forehead, arm wrapped around her shoulders. “I’d throw myself in front of a thousand curses for you, love.”

Satisfied that Esme appears unharmed, Crow rises to her feet. Her gaze shifts to Mirella’s crumpled form, jaw tightening.

“Rest assured, Mirella Draven will face the full consequences of her crimes. Attacking an innocent after the Tribunal has passed judgment…” She shakes her head in disgust. “It’s an unforgivable offense. Her powers will be bound immediately.”

Ambros leans in to murmur in Crow’s ear. “Perhaps it would be wise to modify her memory as well. Remove all recollections of Esme, just to be safe. We wouldn’t want her attempting any further retaliation, powers or no.”

Crow considers this for a moment before nodding. “Yes, I believe you’re right.” She fixes us with a solemn stare. “If she survives the loss of her powers, it will be done.”

A shiver runs down my spine, but it’s for the best. Esme’s safety comes first. I reach out to pull her into a fierce hug, blinking back the sting in my eyes.

“Never scare me like that again,” I whisper against her hair .

She laughs, squeezing me back just as tightly. “No promises. We’re planning to move to Hartford Cove, after all.”

I rear back. “Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

A fist pounds against the podium.

“Order in the court!” Granny Hutchen’s shrill voice rings out, and my stomach drops as her piercing gaze lands on me. “Rowena Rothaven, step forward. It is now time for you to stand before the Tribunal for judgment.”

My mouth goes bone dry, heart hammering. This is it. The last trial before we can all go home.

“Rowe’s trial isn’t supposed to start until tomorrow,” Aspen protests, exchanging a frantic look with Ambros.

“Everyone is already gathered. Waiting one more day changes nothing but further delaying the other Trinities from returning to their territories.” Granny Hutchen glowers at him. “We will begin now. Step forward, Ms. Rothaven.”

Esme grips my hand, fear in her green eyes. “Rowe…”

“It’s okay.” I squeeze her hand, then release her as I stand. “I’ve got this. No matter what, I’ll be okay. ”

Guards escort Mirella Draven out, carrying the unconscious woman. Good riddance to that one.

Bending, I pick up Esme’s chair, which fell when Zane tackled her, and lower myself onto the seat.

As Esme and Zane move into the observation pews, Aspen slides into the empty chair next to me. His icy-blue eyes meet mine, and he gives me an encouraging nod.

I twist toward my mates, only to spot Ambros slipping out of the door at the back.

My brow furrows. Where in the name of apple pie is he running off to when my trial is about to begin?

The murmur of the spectators fades into tense silence as Granny Hutchen rises from her elevated seat at the center of the tribunal table, her weathered face an impassive mask.

In a stern voice, she reads the charges against me. “Rowena Rothaven, you stand accused of the ultimate crime for a witch, using your magic to take a life.”

Her hazel eyes bore into me, accusation in their depths, and her thin lips press into a grim line, biting back more words. I can feel her itching to add more, to call out my true transgression in her eyes—being too powerful, posing too much of a threat to the Northern Trinity’s reign .

Aspen rises, the fabric of his slacks crisp despite having worn them for so many days in a row. “If I may, esteemed members of the tribunal,” he begins, his cultured voice ringing out in the hushed chamber. “The evidence shows this was an act of self-defense.”

He meets the eyes of each tribunal witch in turn. “Bryant had been tormenting my apprentice for months, driving her to desperation. He attempted to murder her eternal spark in cold blood.”

A ripple of gasps and murmurs runs through the galley.

“Against a sadistic, relentless predator like Bryant, magic was the only recourse, the only way she could hope to protect herself and her loved ones.”

Aspen lets the weight of his words hang in the air before inclining his head and returning to his seat.

Granny Hutchen’s hawkish stare snaps to me. “And what do you have to say in your defense, Ms. Rothaven?”

I stand on trembling legs and press my hands against the tabletop. “Bryant was a murderer and a monster. He stole my old life from me, and when I dared to escape, he hunted me like an animal. He tried to kill my mate, and when he captured me, he spent days torturing me, body and spirit, until I was rescued.”

I lift my chin, red curls tumbling over my shoulder. “When he recovered from the wounds dealt to him during my rescue, he came for me again, determined to end me.” I spread my hands. “Look at me. I’m five feet tall and far from strong. Bryant was a large man, a vampire with unnatural strength. Magic was my only hope against him. I regret the necessity of taking a life, but I will never apologize for defending myself and those I love.”

As I sit back down, the tribunal members exchange loaded glances, and my stomach twists into anxious knots.

Crow leans forward, her dark eyes glinting with intrigue. “And how did you defend yourself against this vampire, Rowe?”

Nervousness flutters in my chest. “I used the ethereal magic of air to summon lightning to strike him down before he could kill me.”

A murmur ripples through the assembled witches, some sounding awed, others almost fearful.

Crow’s expression sharpens. “Show us.”

“In here?” I point to the room.

She arches a brow. “Do you need to be outside?”

“No…” I search the room for a target .

“Do you require your wand?” Bramble suggests.

“Oh, that would work.” I nod and step around the table as Bramble produces it from somewhere.

I catch it when she drops it down to me and snap off the piece of fulgurite at the tip. That stuff is not easy to come by.

A gasp comes from the crowded pews, and a stir goes through the tribunal, but I ignore them as I set my wand on the stone floor.

With all the pacing I did in the outer chamber, static electricity already hums beneath my skin.

Stepping back to the far side of the courtroom, I lift my hand, the piece of fulgurite pinched between my middle and index finger. “Pretend this is a wand, and the stick is Bryant. Mind you, it was storm season, and there was literal lightning in the clouds above me when I did this. There was also a cliff”—I wave my arm behind me—“back here.”

Energy crackles between my fingertips, building until small forks of lightning dance around the small piece of glass. Gasps echo around the room, and people lean forward in their seats.

I let the display build for a moment before swinging my arm downward.

Lightning arcs through the air, obliterating what remains of my wand .

I drop the piece of fulgurite into my pocket and turn to the tribunal. “Something like that, but much more dramatic.”

Crow comes down from her seat to examine the scorched patch of stone. “Fascinating.”

As I retake my seat, Granny Hutchen harrumphs. “Well, that’s all well and good, but do you have any proof of your claims? Any witnesses to corroborate your story?”

Behind me, Owen surges to his feet, but Granny Hutchen cuts him off with a sharp gesture. “Your mates are not unbiased. Do you have other witnesses?” She smirks, already knowing the answer. “Or proof of what you speak?”

My heart sinks, and I fight the urge to shrink in on myself. After teleporting all over the place, no sleep, sharing Esme’s memories, and my little demonstration just now, I’m not sure I have enough left to share my memories of my time with Bryant.

And the thought of opening that box, reliving those nightmares again…

I don’t know if I can do it. I don’t know if I’m strong enough.

The chamber door at the back opens, and Ambros pokes his head in, giving Aspen a thumbs up .

My mentor stands, the legs of his chair screeching against the stone floor. “In fact, we do have more witnesses.”

He nods toward the back of the room.

I twist in my seat as Ros leads a procession of familiar faces into the chamber. My breath catches as I recognize my coven, Delilah, Ginny, Harper, Ambyrlynn, and the others. They walk with their spines straight and their shoulders back, filled with righteous anger and determination.

Behind them stalk several vampires, their pale faces set in grim lines. Zane rises from his seat to join his brethren, his bright orange hair stark against all the black and gray.

And there, at the very back, standing straight and tall, with a pink collar around his neck… Tris .

Gratitude, love, and relief tangle in a fierce ache behind my breastbone.

Granny Hutchen sputters, her wrinkled face flushing an unbecoming shade of red. “What is the meaning of this? Who are these people?”

Aspen turns back to face the tribunal, his eyes lit with fierce satisfaction. “These are other witches who Bryant tortured and imprisoned. They will testify to his cruelty and madness.”

He gestures to the vampires. “And these are the vampires who were present when Rowe was rescued from the cabin where that sadist was torturing her.”

His gaze finds Tris, and his voice gentles. “And this is Tris Agatha Branning Wendall Rothaven Hartford Shultz Haut. The man Bryant threw off a balcony and left for dead, all so Bryant could kidnap Rowe on their wedding night.”

Whispers erupt around the room, but the thundering of my pulse drowns them out. Tris. He’s here. They’re all here.

I’m not alone. I’ve never been alone, even when I thought I was. Tears sting my eyes, but for the first time since this entire ordeal began, they’re tears of relief, not fear or pain.

I turn back to face Granny Hutchen and the rest of the tribunal. I lift my chin and square my shoulders, letting my mate bonds and the unwavering support of my loved ones flow through me like an electric current.

“So,” I say, my voice ringing through the sudden hush. “Is this enough proof?”