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.”