III. Trial And Error

That very same night, I lay, tossing and turning in my bed, the sheets become hopelessly tangled around my restless body. My depression had somewhat subsided, with the introduction of something new to think about. However, nothing could overrule my dread for the trial. I had a choice; I could either be dragged into the court like a reluctant prizefighter, or I could walk with my head held high. I knew all along what my choice would be, but fixing it in my mind made the tiny light of hope in my chest swell. So, steeling myself against the panic that threatened to rise and block the light out, I forced myself to sleep – more to pass the time and block out thoughts than to actually rest. 1

I awoke to a curt knocking at my chamber door. I rose groggily and answered it. The same, familiar soldier stood there. He walked with clanking armor into the room. He looked out of place in my obviously female rooms. With one swift motion, he clapped the iron rings around my wrists. They felt hard and cold, but the physical sensation was nothing compared to what they did to my mental state. My heart quickened and my mind reeled. But I didn’t resist. 2

“Is this absolutely necessary?” Coria asked, eyeing the handcuffs suspiciously. 3

“Yes.”4

“Even though you know she’ll go willingly? This is the daughter of the blood, not some common pickpocket!” Coria looked incredulous. I silenced her with a barely perceptible nod of my head, since my hand was not free for waving at the time.5

“Coria. It’s protocol. You know this.” I looked at the floor. Protocol. What a concept. This entire affair was against protocol. But I wasn’t going to be defeated by standard procedures. “It’s alright. I’m fine.” This couldn’t have been farther from the truth.6

I stared at the tapestry that was just visible from my doorway. It depicted the goddess Sayna studying the legendary Autumn Fairy. I drew strength from the delicately stitched woman who, I decided early on, would be my protector. I admired her. I aspired to be like her.7

As I was marched past it, I lifted my chained hands and ran them over the tapestry. I needed to feel something – anything – familiar. But even the coarse, intricately woven threads failed to comfort me. They felt strange, as if their neat pattern had somehow become haphazard and random. And it seemed as though it was unraveling before my very eyes.8

I felt a jerk on my hand and turned to face the towering guard. He grunted and motioned me onward. I hung my head. How could I be strong when the world had turned against me? Even my earlier decision to go proudly had crumbled around me. I could do nothing more but follow the guard like an obedient puppy.9

But there were soft footsteps behind me that certainly didn’t come from the guard. Ignoring a stern glance from him, I turned to look. There was a slight flutter of movement before I saw the hem of a dress disappear behind a corner. I continued, thinking that it the product of my over active imagination. A faint voice touched my mind. I immediately looked backwards once again to see a familiar face.10

Coria! I called with my mind. I had long ago taught my maid and closest friend to speak with her mind. Help me! I can’t take this. Nothing seems th - 11

There is nothing I can do, came the curt reply. Be strong milady.12

But Coria, I can’t! Hot tears ran down my face. My strong spirit had been pushed to its breaking point. I couldn’t take it any longer. But the familiar voice was gone, as well as the face. I was utterly alone.13

I don’t remember much of the rest of that day before the trial. I sat in a room for hours on end, staring at my feet. I remember the room well enough. It was warmly furnished, majestic seats clad in red velvet, deep colored wooden tables with surfaces ringed in gold, and a fire glowing in the grate. The golden autumn sunlight filtered in through the heavy curtains, tinting the luminescence a fiery crimson. But there was no heat shed in the room. I was cold, and the room, for all its inviting aura, could hold no comfort for me. Needless to say, I was glad to leave it when I was summoned.14

But soon enough I would have given the entire kingdom to find myself back in the waiting room. I was brought before Tolck, manacled and looking dejected. 15

He stood up, rather ceremoniously and drew a piece of parchment from inside a pocket of his robes with a flourish. Clearing his throat noisily, he straightened up more pompously and began to read.16

“Your Royal Highness Princess Lekina.” Tolck inclined his head slightly, never taking his eyes off of my face. I gave him an equally icy stare. “You have been brought into my court to be punished for the crime of a murder – a murder of the king, which also can be considered as treason.” The courtroom shivered with tension. I was being tried for treason too? Was murder not enough of a crime?17

“You have already convicted me before I have even had the chance to defend myself.” I quickly found my tongue, and my wit. “Is it not the duty of this court to decide my fate? Is it not the duty of the oldest remaining member of the royal bloodline to rule? Is it not the duty of this ruler to decide the fate of an accused murderer?” I was really just talking to delay the judgement, but I had a point. By all accounts, I should have been ruling. I was, after all, the next in line for the throne. And, obviously, I would have found myself innocent. 18

“No.” Tolck lowered his voice and said icily, “It is my duty to control,” he thought for a moment, “unruly members of this court. You are in violation of the laws of the land and so are unfit to rule.” He leaned towards me. “And it’s my duty to make sure you are properly punished.” I had the sinking feeling that I was the only one who had heard the last statement. If Tolck was bent upon convicting me, I had no hope. His court was made up of his cronies – they were held in check by admiration, and, more often than not, fear. I had no chance.19

There was a moment of silence before Tolck straightened up and cleared his throat. “Your Royal Highness Princess Lekina.” There was no small bow this time, no show of inferiority. His eyes were blazing coldly, making him more beautiful than before. As much as I hated every bit of the man, I couldn’t help but stop breathing for a moment as I stared into his perfect face. 20