Ch 4: Trial and Defense

Proteus woke in a lightning strike of awareness, his eyes flashing open so fast that his vision sparkled with a field of stars. His empty stomach roiled, and a groan of agony rippled across the room. Initially, Proteus was unaware it resonated from his own throat. It felt like the bones in his shoulder has splintered into fiery shards that ate their way down his arm well into his fingers. Simultaneously, pain rolled across his chest in hot waves, tickling his throat with razor-sharp fingers. Squeezing his eyes closed, Proteus dragged labored breaths through his nose, trying his damndest to stop the war drum beat that screamed along the crown of his skull.

Eventually the drum beat quieted to a heartbeat, and when Proteus opened his eyes, he could actually see. He was in his quarters, every candle staunched and the noise muted by the thickness of the dark. Swinging his legs over gingerly, Proteus started to bring his right hand to his forehead when the muscle constriction nearly knocked him on his back. Taking a moment to breathe, Proteus reestablished his calm before taking to his feet. It was a struggle to keep on his feet when the room revolved and his stomach with it. When his vision settled again, Proteus gently probed his shoulder, finding it well-wrapped with clean white bandages.

Shuffling around the room as if he were blind, Proteus indulged in a vicious, wicked string of curses when he stubbed his foot on the chest at the foot of his bed. His father would have paled had he heard such language pour from his noble son's mouth. He shrugged stiffly into a black linen tunic, belting it and knotting it as well as he could with one hand. Making his way to the door, it suddenly occurred to Proteus just how heavy his door really was when he had to heave it open with one hand and pain filling his chest to the brim.

The heavy ebony panels creaked open reluctantly, and Proteus nearly blacked out from shock when Tradeus, his footman and attendant, stood on the other side of the door, looking at his prince with wide, shocked brown eyes.

"My lord! You—You shouldn't be out of bed! Your shoulder—" Proteus waved a hand to silence Tradeus's fearful words, his brow knitting at his attendant's tone.

"The rider… The horse thief. Where is he?" Tradeus looked confused, and Proteus had to swallow back the frustration that clogged his throat. Suddenly, Tradues's expression cleared, but became righteously angry and vengeful. The prince was shocked by his mild-mannered attendant's expression, one he had never seen cross the thin man's lined face.

"You mean the woman who did this to you?" Proteus blinked owlishly. Woman? That didn't make any sense… However, his mind flashing through the events earlier that afternoon, suddenly, Proteus could now see the patterns that blind rage and the heat of the chase had hidden from him. The fine bones of her face hadn't signaled youth—they were a sign of her femininity. The same could be said for her slim frame. It was only when he'd puzzled his way through that riddle did the second half of Tradeus's statement hit him.

"Wait… What? The black-haired youth? The one who must have brought me back? She isn't responsible for my wounds! If she hadn't returned me, I would have undoubtedly died!"

"But, Your Majesty, she's being tried for your attempted murder as we speak!" Proteus ground his teeth as he swept past Tradeus, striding long while anger and vicious pride buffered the pain. Only a matter of moments later, he reached the council's chambers. One less dominated by pain and anger would have found a strange irony in the situation. He had pushed open these very doors with similar emotions only months ago. It would seem that the chamber would again hear his voice raised for the defense.


Azeah had been dragged from her cell long after the sun's rays weakly trickled through the small window high on her cell wall. This time, she was escorted with far more pomp, a clear warning she was on her way to her trial. As the pace was slower and sleep had cleared her head, Azeah could clearly see her surroundings, and knew long before they made the final turn down the long, well-adorned hallway where she was being taken.

There was no shoving or pushing this time around—in fact, the guards didn't touch her at all. When the large, ornately carved doors parted and Azeah stepped inside, a wicked hush fell over the crowd gathered in the council's chambers. Grinding her teeth against the tears that welled, Azeah moved with a graceful step and a high head. Halting before the council, the silence her steps had interjected now reigned supreme as Azeah locked eyes with the head councilman. It had been so long since she'd travelled in this circle, that his name escaped her.

"Your name?" the head councilman boomed out in his deep voice. Azeah kept her stony silence, breathing carefully through her nose as she let the focus in her eyes go. "The trial will move forward with or without your testimony. Again, what is your name?"

"Azeah," she murmured. It slipped out unbidden, as something in this sad situation lowered Azeah's reserves. There was nothing to be done. She would be dead within a fortnight. To struggle against that fate was just too exhausting.

"Azeah?" one of the councilors repeated as they stood. Focusing her gaze, Azeah paled. It just now occurred to her that her aunt Taryn served on the council of the Twelve Cities. "Azeah Lerios, Countess of Shalimar?" the slim, older woman said again, her voice heavy with incredulity and tinted with a kind of painful joy.

"Councilwoman Calimus," the head councilman interrupted. "Please be seated." His voice had an edge of hardness that brooked no argument. Taryn slowly took a seat, her eyes plastered to Azeah. Guilt rose with heat and wrapped its sticky hands around the countess's throat. "Now, if there are no more interruptions, we may proceed. Lady Shalimar, it is understood that after stealing one of Prince Proteus's horses, you attempted to kill him in the royal hunting grounds. As Proteus's condition is still unstable, we cannot ask him to verify his account of the incident. The question of his survival is still unanswered at this point. Thus I think it's safe to say that—" A shuddering boom interrupted the councilman's sentence.

"This council has yet to stop targeting those under my protection for crimes committed against the state? Indeed, I must agree." Proteus's entrance and statement brought the council to their feet, as Azeah spun, her eyes wide with shock to see the prince she had returned unconscious and possibly bleeding to death only a sun's turn ago striding towards her, his dark eyes burning like hellfire. Dymus leaped forward, trying to impede his injured son's march to Azeah's side.

"Proteus, please, you're wounded," Dymus murmured, trying to push Proteus back without actually touching him for fear of causing him pain.

"Wounded, yes, but not dead, which the council chose not to confirm before commencing with this trial. Despite that, I will testify. This woman is not responsible for my injuries," Proteus proclaimed in a clear, controlled tone as he swung his hand to point at Azeah, striding in front of her to shield her. "In fact," he continued, a small laugh lacing his words, "she saved my life. It was easily within her power to leave me dying on the forest floor. Instead, she faced down the entire royal guard and this council in order to bring me home. She deserves a commendation, council, not a trial! That fact that she has been forced to stand in one manifests a serious lack of judgment on this council's part."

"Proteus," Dymus muttered, warning heavy in his tone.

"If not the countess, Prince Proteus, then who?" Councilwoman Calimus asked. Proteus's eyes flicked to Azeah, and she could see the question in them clearly. Countess? Instead, Proteus dragged his gaze back to her aunt, quickly recollecting his control. Azeah, who kept her eyes on the prince, could see that with his anger quickly fading, pain was crowding the intent expression on his face. His right arm crept up, resting across his abdomen to lessen the pressure on his shoulder.

"I can't say for certain, Councilwoman. Rogues, poachers, perhaps." The volume of Proteus's voice was deteriorating, along with his condition. A blind person could see he wouldn't last much longer, not with his dignity intact. The council had a bone in their teeth, and would sacrifice Proteus's health in order to satisfy their questions. This had to end now.

"Send scouts into the forest, if you must," Azeah interjected. Everyone in the room stared at her as if she had started speaking in tongues. Proteus almost jumped as his gaze slammed back to her. Controlling the urge to shake her head and roll her eyes, Azeah continued. "However, I doubt you'll find anything. If the ones responsible for this haven't covered the tracks, the forest has. Be that as it may, it's time for the council to make their decision." Azeah expected the head councilman to speak. Perhaps that's why she was a little surprised when it was her aunt who spoke first.

"Even if the prince's testimony hadn't cleared you of the charges, his protection is undisputable, Azeah. Guards, remove the shackles. The Lady Shalimar is free to go." The guards stepped forward to follow their orders. However, Azeah didn't miss the hesitation in their step. It would seem that their thirst for blood and retribution would go unquenched. Just as the heavy weights fell free from her hands, a councilman whom Azeah hadn't paid much attention to suddenly spoke.

"You are free to go, Lady Shalimar. However, I do believe the council agrees with me in that in light of this disturbing event, it would be best if you stayed here in the palace. For your protection." Azeah held still, looking hard at the short, slightly portly councilman. She was no fool. This was hardly for her protection. It was house arrest. However, she couldn't argue, and instead bobbed her head in a passable bow. She and Proteus turned together, sparing each other a brief glance that spoke volumes on the way out. Out of the corner of her eye, Azeah could see that Proteus was limping. She had to get him out of here, quickly.

It was something of an execution walk, the tandem of their steps echoing in the chamber's utter silence. As the giant doors swung open, Azeah was forced to throw up her hand to shield her eyes from the sudden glare of sunlight after the dim chamber of the council.

Faintly she heard Proteus say, "This way." She turned towards him, moving mostly on sound. Eventually her eyes adjusted, and Azeah could see Proteus faltering not two steps ahead of her. Reading his gait correctly, Azeah surged forward just as Proteus's legs gave way, his gasp of pain sizzling down Azeah's spine, accompanied by an emotion she refused to acknowledge as fear. Slinging his left arm over her shoulder and wrapping her arm around his waist for support, Azeah straightened, tossing an apologetic glance the prince's way.

"I'm sorry you had to survive that ordeal. I'd like to say you didn't have to, but you and I both know the consequences if you hadn't shown up." She waved away Proteus's response just as he opened his mouth. She would hear of no apology from his quarter. "You have no need to apologize, not even for the councilors. I am indebted to you, yet again, Prince Proteus." They moved forward, Proteus giving quiet directions to his room.

As they made slow progress through the quiet halls, Proteus suddenly turned his head, the movement catching Azeah's eye. She turned her head to face his very close one, and was almost staggered by the proximity. He had such honest eyes. It was almost… overwhelming. A small smile crooked his handsome lips.

"Do you think there will ever be a day when we even the scales between us?" Azeah offered a small smile in return, but no answer. She doubted that day would ever come. For if the scales were ever to weigh even, the tally of actions must first be discarded. And that called for a closeness Azeah could never afford.


Sorry for the wait. Hope you enjoy!