CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

JAHLE

In the early hours of the morning, a maid arrived to escort Mel back to her rooms. With hurried kisses and fervent promises, she left, and Jahle spent the rest of his time staring at the ceiling. After spending the night with Mel, after healing the rift between them, he had to admit one truth.

I do not want to die.

With bleary eyes, he watched a troop of servants and guards enter his room. The guards stood by the door, while the servants bustled around him. They laid out a meal, which Jahle rejected. They scrubbed his scales with oil soaked towels, and dressed him in the colors of Geran. The plum and gray tunic restricted his legs, allowing him only the tiniest of steps. It was a gesture of goodwill, a way of saying, “Look, I am harmless.”

Better this than chains.

After his hair was brushed out and braided, Jahle minced his way behind the guards. Their procession caught the attention of servants, but Jahle kept his eyes on the ground. He did not want their stares, whether they were angry ones, or pity-filled, or mere curiosity. He was thankful when they reached the trial chamber.

The massive chamber gleamed with gold and jewels. He gaped at the high ceilings inlaid with mosaics of the planets. The planet of Cadam sat in the center, while the other colonies circled it. He found Geran, a tiny cluster of brown jewels off to the side, and he swallowed back his homesickness.

The guards led him down the aisle, which was flanked by rows of benches. Fortunately, they were empty. Perhaps from the early hour, but more likely because they could not be bothered to care about the trial of a nobody.

At the end of the aisle sat a dais, with a raised throne, currently empty. Large rays of jewels radiated outward, putting the back of the throne at the center of a star burst. Jahle felt a pang. Dogan had tried to evoke such awe with his wood and pasteboard jewel throne, but nothing could compare to the real deal.

Geran was once like this.

He heard his name being called softly, and when he turned his head, he saw Mel sitting on the edge of the bench. Her face was drawn, and she wore a gown of blue and green. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes, but he was glad to see her face.

She rose to go to him, and he gestured her back. He wanted to have Mel by his side, yet worried she would be found guilty, simply through associating with him. She bit her lip and sank back down to the bench.

A servant placed a cushioned footstool on the ground between Jahle and the throne.

“For you to kneel upon,” the servant said.

Jahle eyed it warily. “I will stand.”

“The trial may be long. Unfortunately, you may not sit in the presence of the prince.”

“I will stand,” he repeated. When the servant’s face fell, he added, “Thank you for your consideration.”

With a bow, the servant left.

Jahle stood, and waited. The bells rang, signaling the passage of time, and some time later, rang again. His legs began to ache, so he shifted from foot to foot. He shot a glance behind him at Mel, who chewed on a nail. When he raised his eyebrows in enquiry – what’s taking so long? – she shrugged.

The worms of fear in his belly multiplied.

And still he stood.

The bright morning light began to dim as the sun rose higher. The guards surrounding him began to whisper, their armor clinking as they moved. Jahle’s stomach grumbled. He should have eaten. A servant brought him a roll stuffed with cold meats, and a tall tumbler of cold juice. He ate with the guards, watching Mel as she picked at her own plate.

He was debating throwing protocol to the wind and taking a seat beside Mel when a door beside the throne opened. The guards straightened as Kovos strode in, followed by Jenna and Yaldir. Kovos swept onto the throne, while Yaldir took his place at his side, but a step behind. The same position Jahle would have taken if it had been Dogan on the throne.

Jenna kept walking. When she passed Jahle, she smiled and squeezed his arm before taking her place beside a scowling Mel. The two whispered, but Kovos began speaking, drowning out Mel’s furious hissing.

“My apologies for the delay. An unforeseen circumstance required my immediate attention.”

Jahle wondered if he should speak, but it seemed strange to offer Kovos a pardon for his tardiness, when he hoped for a pardon for his treason.

A court official stepped forward. Before she could speak, Kovos waved her away. “Yes, yes, the court in session, clan head of Cadam, judge, jury and executioner. Let’s move this along, shall we? Resh, come forward and speak, man.”

Behind him, Resh stepped forward, leaving behind the four Water People children on the bench. Jahle hadn’t noticed them enter. Had they been there all along? Resh strode past Jahle, nodding as he passed, but his face remained grim.

And so it begins.

Jahle wanted to shake out his hands. Under his thick tunic, his scales rose.

Resh dropped a spartan bow to his leader. “My Lord.”

“Report. I want to know what intel you gathered about the accused. Make it brief.”

What is the hurry?

“Nothing of which you are not already aware. The youngest son of Jarvaarath Ar’Geran. Served as his older brother, Gundogan Ar'Geran’s honor guard from a very young age.” Resh rattled off a few facts about Jahle.

“And his character?” Kovos said.

Jahle braced himself as Resh’s eyes flicked over him with a coolness that left Jahle wanting to protest. Why was his fate in the hands of a man who didn’t even like him?

“I found no fault with his character,” Resh said, making Jahle start. “I was informed both by Lady Melissa and the children rescued from Geran that he saved their lives multiple times, often at risk to himself. In fact, he risked both his honor and his life to help them escape Geran.”

“Yet he killed his brother,” Kovos said.

“He claims to, but the Lady Melissa claims she is responsible for Gundogan Ar'Geran’s demise.”

Jahle shot a glance at Mel, and she raised her chin in challenge.

Kovos leaned forward. “Do you believe that Jahlekron Ar'Geran is a threat to the Ennoi Cadam?”

Resh hesitated. “No, my lord. He is surly and barbaric, but he is no threat. Jahle has shown himself to be an honorable man.” His words were spoken with reluctance.

Kovos nodded. “Thank you for your candor, Resh. I know it is difficult. I know you lost your mother in the attack on Braddrak. You are dismissed.”

Jahle sat up straighter. That is the cause of his dislike.

Resh dipped his head. “Thank you, my lord.”

When he walked past Kovos, he met his eyes with a level stare. Kovos bowed his head in thanks.

“Call the children forward,” Kovos ordered.

Eien, Alay, Lyrr and Mokas stepped forward, escorted by a servant who fussed over their clothes, ordered Alay to remove the thumb from his mouth, and slicked down Mokas’s cowlick. The younger children pulled back, so Eien stepped forward. The tunic he wore hung loosely on his shoulders. While he had almost reached his adult height, he had yet to earn the muscle of a fully grown Ennoi male.

“You have nothing to fear here,” Kovos said, his voice gentle. “Be honest. Be honorable. No harm shall befall you. Tell me about Jahle.”

“He’s dead,” blurted out Lyrr. “We aren’t supposed to talk about him.”

“More than dead,” Mokas added. “Meaningless.”

Little Alay’s fingers slipped back into his mouth. He watched Kovos with round eyes.

“We won’t speak of him,” Lyrr added, propping her fists on her hips. “It is wrong!”

Kovos nodded. “I will not force you to speak. Even children must maintain their honor the way they see fit. You may be dismissed if you have nothing to say.”

Appeased, Lyrr dropped her hands to her side. “Let’s go,” she whispered to the other children.

Eien dropped his eyes to the floor. “I beg your pardon, lord, but my parents taught me that we should do what we believe is best to maintain our honor.” He lifted his head and stepped forward. “I-I will speak for Jahle.”

Jahle swallowed. Eien might pay a heavy price if the other children choose to shun him.

“Go ahead,” Kovos said.

“My parents were… misinformed. Jahle is an honorable man. He saved us. First from the dolor, a-and then from… He saved us.”

“You were there. Did Jahle kill his brother?”

Eien frowned. “I-I do not know. I saw the fighting, but… I did not see him kill… anyone.”

Behind him, Jahle heard Mel curse, and Jenna’s soft voice begging her to stop. He turned in time to see her jump to her feet, brushing aside her sister.

Mel’s voice boomed through the empty room. “That’s because Jahle didn’t kill his brother. I did! I killed him. This whole trial is a big, fat waste of time.”

“Mel,” Jahle chided. “Enough.”

“Mel, sit your butt down,” hissed Jenna.

But Mel wasn’t finished. She pushed past him to stand before Jahle. When she had to crane her neck upward to look at Kovos on the dais, she hopped onto the footstool.

“If anyone should be on trial, it should be me,” she said.

Yaldir stepped forward, but Kovos stopped him with a raised hand, before slouching back into his seat. “She may speak.”

“Jahle wasn’t fighting to kill his brother. He was fighting to defend himself,” Mel said. “I saw he wasn’t going to last long against his brother. Dogan was furious. I lured the centipede-thing out. I sent it after them. The centipede killed Dogan. Therefore, I killed Dogan. It wasn’t him.”

She turned to look at Jahle. Her warm brown eyes shimmered with tears, but he knew they were tears of anger, not sadness. Pride welled in his chest. My brave, brave beloved.

“If anyone should be punished,” Mel said, “it’s me. Not him. Don’t let him die. Please.”

Kovos lifted his chin from his fist. “Are you done?”

Mel pursed her lips. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Then rest your mind, Melissa Harlock of Earth.” Kovos’s tone was as gentle as it had been when he spoke to the children. “I will not punish someone acting in defense of the vulnerable.”

Before he could speak again, the side door slid open with a clang. A servant hurried in, and Yaldir stepped forward to meet him. The servant leaned in and whispered into Yaldir’s ear. Yaldir straightened, and strode back to the throne. He bent down and whispered into his lord’s ear.

A small smile played across Kovos’s lips. When Yaldir moved back to his position, Kovos met Jenna’s eyes and nodded. Jenna, a wide grin plastered across her face, jumped up and clapped her hands.

Kovos rose. “We shall adjourn for a brief moment.”

What?

“What?” echoed Mel. “You can’t be serious!”

“Patience, Mel,” Jenna said, grabbing her arm. She shot a warm smile at Jahle, including him in her words. “Trust me. It’ll be okay. Jahle, you’re my sister’s Avowed. You’re family now. Which means you’re Kovos’s family, too.”

Family. Jahle stared at Jenna, and saw she meant every word. In loving Mel, he found the unexpected: family.

Jenna patted his arm. “Trust me. It’ll all be okay.”