Sophia and her men stood in the center of a circular floor bound by chains dangling from their ankles and wrists. All around them were empty seats. Seats that should’ve been filled with Nighthelm’s populace, jury, magistrates, and council. Only a group of about twenty guards, one magistrate, the duchess, and Winston were present for the trial. And the silence was so thick that every movement and shuffle of their chains or clothing seemed to echo and carry too much volume.

The magistrate seemed anxious, bristling with each clink of the chains. Almost like the noise was painful to him. The duchess watched quietly from her seat, though she seemed rather unnerved by Sophia. It was evident in the way that she wouldn’t let her gaze settle on her as long as it settled on the men. She seemed rigid, but Sophia knew it was all a show. Everything about that woman was for show.

And Winston? He looked just as proud and full of himself as ever. Bile rose in Sophia’s throat, and she made every effort to ignore his constant smirk as he kept his eyes glued to her. She risked a glance to her men, each of them holding the same puzzled expression as she knew her face betrayed.

For a trial, something felt… off.

She wondered if the citizens of the city were aware that they were being held in a one-sided trial. If so, did they even care? Probably not. More than likely, they were thankful that they could sleep a little more soundly in their beds now.

The wraiths stood outside of the trial room, angrily calling for their right to attend the meeting. Andreas’ jaws clenched as Sophia looked to him. She could tell that Andreas didn’t like his brothers being kept out and the even more unsettling idea that no one else was allowed in.

A man, no taller than Sophia, entered the room from one of the three doors that led into the room and approached the magistrate’s seat of power. It was the door that led directly into the castle’s main hall, where the duchess came from. She had been the last to enter.

“Your Honor, the wraiths demand that you reconsider the citizens of Nighthelm’s ban from attending the trial.” His voice was softer than she thought a man’s voice should be, but then, perhaps, he was afraid of the fate that her and her men were about to be given. Or maybe just afraid of the so-called monsters that stood within his presence.

Sophia bit the inside of her cheek. If he only knew it wasn’t them that were the monsters. Quite the opposite, really. She exhaled a heavy breath. No use in arguing that now. She needed to focus on how they were going to get out of this mess first. The rest would come later.

The magistrate’s powdered wig shook with his head, lips pressed into a tight line. “No audience. The wraiths especially. Their blind loyalty will cause more problems. No one may enter.” His voice held a rasp and was worn with age but was also firm with conviction.

But that wasn’t right. That’s not how the people delivered justice. And Sophia knew it from all the lectures Grindel had given her over the years. She realized that this wasn’t a trial. This was for the sake of appearances. Their fates had already been determined. No one would be allowed to speak on their behalf and ask for reconsideration or more leniency.

She didn’t have to hear the words to know that they were sentenced to death.

Guilt rocked her core. Kill her, fine. But not her men. She hated that she had gotten them into this mess. It wasn’t fair, and now she had to figure out some way to save them. But before she tipped off the guard, much less the magistrate or duchess of her pending plan, she had to come up with the how.

“I will now call for order,” the magistrate said.

“Then let the people in. Let them come and have a say,” Edric said.

Ezekiel added, “Even I know what you are doing is wrong, Your Honor.”

“Wrong?” the magistrate asked, stone-grey eyes narrowing on the four of them. “Wrong? Young man, do you not understand the charges and evidence that has been brought against you?”

Ezekiel recoiled. Sophia clamped her mouth shut and glared at the duchess and Winston. What possible evidence could they have to prove any of the accusations? Fabricated ones, that’s what.

The magistrate continued. “The way I see it, you are in no position to even so much as speak. You will stand there and accept your conviction, or I will see to it that each of you are gagged.” He took several moments to settle his eyes on each of them, pointedly, waiting for another outburst or sign of backtalk so he could deliver on his promise.

Once satisfied that no one else would speak against him and his authority, he said, “The accused, Andreas Hylt, Ezekiel Wickham, and Edric Axton, are all charged with treason, and conspiracy to commit murder.”

Ezekiel sneered. “You can only commit treason against the crown.” He gestured to the duchess, his chains rattling. “She is not the crown. She is but a steward of the city.”

The magistrate twisted his lips into a very unbecoming smirk and pointed at him. “Not one more word out of you.” Adjusting his position in his chair, he cleared his throat and continued. “The punishment for these crimes is death.”

“No!” Sophia jolted forward, chains dragging on the floor. Two guards jumped toward her and grabbed her arms before she could move any closer to the magistrate. They dragged her back into her place and held her there. Her heart slammed in her chest as she frantically sought for a way out of this mess. A way for her to save her men so that they might continue to live and find the heirs before anyone else suffered from the corruption under the guise of the crown.

“However, seeing that the three men in question had been exceptionally outstanding and law-abiding citizens, serving the city faithfully for many years until being held captive by the enchantments this woman had placed on them, I have reason to believe they acted upon their crimes unwittingly and without control of themselves.”

The men shook their heads and opened their mouths to protest, but the magistrate had made a gesture with his hand and at least half of the remaining guards lined up in front of them and held their swords, tips pointed dangerously toward them. “Andreas Hylt, Ezekiel Wickham, Edric Axton, because of your history and service with the city, your penalty has been reduced to banishment,” the magistrate said. “To be carried out immediately. Let this be an example for the remaining populace.”

That meant they were getting sent to the mountain. That was the same as death. What game they thought they played to make that a sentence, she couldn’t figure out. But she would be damned if she allowed her men to go there.

The magistrate continued, “You, Sophia, of no family name, have been charged with being an anima contritum. Your sentence is death.”

Sophia’s breath left her lungs in a whoosh. The rest of the magistrate’s words were too muddled to hear as her heartbeats pulsed loudly in her ears. She knew this day would come, but she had hoped that the heirs would have been found and returned to their rightful place in Nighthelm. Her men were to be banished to the mountain, to wither away and die the most agonizing, painful deaths.

Reduction in punishment, my ass.

And to make matters worse, it was all her fault. She had brought them to this fate. Before she died, she would first save them.

Winston smiled at what the magistrate had said and rubbed his hands together, staring at Sophia like she was his meal. The words he spoke reiterated through her mind…

You would be surprised what kind of enchantments and talismans I can buy that will make you obedient and mine. Even spells that could bring you back from the dead…

His grin widened as her eyes flitted toward him. Almost as if he knew the very words that played through her mind.

Not. Gonna. Happen.

She needed a plan—and fast.

The magistrate nodded and said, “Carry out the orders.”

The guards with their swords pointed at the men held firm as two each took Andreas’s, Ezekiel’s, and Edric’s arms, leading them to a stone banishing well etched into the wall to their side. Each of her men glanced at her as they walked past. She saw the looks of fury and loss on their faces, and it was like a knife cut deep into her heart. She couldn’t let them go. She wouldn’t.

She struggled against her chains and the grip of the guards that held her. Their hands tightened around her arms and she winced from the pressure. As her men drew closer to the well, her entire body started to shake. Heat swelled inside her, like being burned from the inside out. She knew that sensation, she clutched to it, encouraging it to grow.

Clamping her eyes shut, she gritted her teeth until a copper taste coated her tongue. Sophia reached down deep into her body and grabbed hold of her magic. It swirled in her grasp, eager to be released, eager to obey her. Finally.

A collective gasp filled her ears, and she opened her eyes. The two guards that held onto her released her arms and stepped back, eyes wide with fear.

Good.

She glanced down at her hands and saw the blue glow on her skin peeking out from the gloves. She concentrated on that until the metal of her cuffs cracked and shattered like fragile glass, and her hands were free.

Jumping into action, she drew the sword of the guard to her left, then swung at the one to her right, slicing open his torso. His guts slithered out as he clutched at them, trying to keep them from tumbling to the floor. She ran toward the well, just as Andreas reached the hold and was kicked into it.

With a guttural shout, Sophia pushed through the guards descending on her, slicing and hacking at them with her sword, until she made a clear path. Some saw her moves and tried to parry, but they ended up losing a finger, hand, or an entire arm in the process. The magistrate screamed for order and demanded that she be apprehended, but she refused to let her men die for her.

Once she had a way through the guards, she sprinted as hard as she could, reaching for Edric who was the last to be shoved into the well. His eyes widened as he fell, and he shouted her name.

Determined to protect her team, the men she loved—her family—she tossed the stolen sword to the side and dove head first into the gaping hole.