Trial of the Valkyrie

Decree

Chapter Seven - Decree

Song: The Vote - James Newton Howard

"I've had enough of men hurting me because they were upset."

― S.A. Chakraborty

G W     Y     N

The interior of the courthouse, much like the exterior, was modestly decorated. The room was lined with two rows of empty pews on either side. They formed an aisle on the slanting floor that allowed even the occupants of the back of the courthouse – for when there was an audience – to view the front clearly. At the front left was the "dock" that Gwyn had read about. It was where the accused – she and Nesta – were meant to stand. Literally. There was no seating in the raised booth.

  Then, lining the front of the room, was what the priestess recognized as "the bench." A sort of tall desk, high above the courtroom floor that the Magistrates would sit behind.

  Gwyn recognized Celio immediately with shaggy black hair and an unlined face. He wore an ash colored robe that matched the two other magistrates beside him – there were cuts in the back that allowed his strong wings to hang behind him like two looming body-guards. To his left sat an elderly Illyrian with wavy graying hair — crescents bracketed his mouth and there were crows feet by his shrewd eyes. Crispin, Gwyn realized.

  And finally, Fabius sat on the other side of Crispin. His black hair was long and silky, smoothed back from the sharp plains of his severe face. He looked down his straight nose at Gwyn and Nesta with eyes like a sea-serpent – calculating and cold. He was handsome, Gwyn observed, but in the same way a poisonous flower was beautiful. Meant to be looked at but not touched. Never to occupy your dining room table, but rather intended to reside in solitude in the middle of a deep wood where it could do no harm.

  After taking stock of her surroundings, Gwyn felt much more in control. The thrill of anxiety still coursed through her veins, but at least she knew where she stood. The peaked ceiling and the gray-wood walls seemed more like a building and less like a cage.

  Azriel and Cassian escorted Gwyn and Nesta to the dock.
  Cassian offered his mate his hand as she stepped up onto the raised platform – she gave him a brief nod before taking her place.

  The general gave Gwyn a reassuring smile as he departed for the front pew where Emerie and Balthazar currently resided – each of them being scrutinized by the three magistrates like potentially poisonous insects.

  Azriel helped Gwyn onto the dock next, and the moment his hand left hers she felt the absence of his presence like a cold wind.

  Her eyes quickly met his and she felt them begin to round in panic.

  A muscle in the shadowsinger's jaw ticked and he subtly lifted his chin, reminding her that she must not show fear. That now was the time to be the Valkyrie that she was. She was guilty of nothing but staying alive.

  Taking a deep breath through her nose, Gwyn nodded at the shadowsinger, then held her head high and came to stand next to Nesta.

  She could still feel Azriel's eyes on her as he retreated to join Cassian in the front-row.

  Behind the low wall that boxed Gwyn and Nesta in, she felt the eldest Archeron's knuckles brush against hers. Slowly, she weaved her fingers with the priestess's – her tight hold indicating she had no intention of letting go for the duration of The Summoning.

  After a few more moments of hushed murmurs between the three magistrates, the males turned their gazes on Nesta and Gwyn. Gwyn's shoulders tensed and Nesta squeezed her hand again.