The bars slammed shut, and the guards walked away, snickering softly.

"NO! What about my trial? You can't just lock me up!" I screamed after them.

They laughed, one turning around to face me, sneering.

"Yer trial's tomorrow, rat." He said, smirking at me.

He turned to follow his companion, saying over his shoulder:

"With the Provost."

I could hear the smirk in his voice. The Lord Provost was the most feared prosecutor in Tortall. Every single person he's trialled has been found guilty, and executed.

I had just been handed a death sentence.


"Name?" He asked, looking down at me with disgust.

"Alenne Couper, of Coas Wood." I replied, my gaze on the floor.

I could see Sarasai in the benches, behind the fence, with Yates and Sesha, and a few other members of the Rogue's Court that I'd seen about. I was in the local Courthouse, being questioned by the Provost. Usually trials were conducted behind closed doors, but it seemed that the Provost felt it was time for a public spectacle. Just my luck to be the one subjected to it.

"Alenne Couper, you are under trial for suspicion of magic. This is a randomly issued trial that any citizen of the crown may be subjected to.

However, this trial is also to investigate certain aspects about Miss Couper that appear to be magical in origin. In this case, her eyes."

I could feel the gaze of everyone in the courthouse move to my face, but I kept my eyes on the floor.

"Miss Couper, you have been trialled before, is that correct?" The Provost asked.

"Yes." I replied, still staring at the small, dusty spot of floor directly in front of me.

"And you passed all trials?" He continued.

"Yes." I said again.

"Alright. Miss Couper, could you please grip the stone on your right." He asked.

The stone on my right was a typical scrying stone, though I doubted that the Provost knew that. It was supposed to pick up any magic flowing through the holder's body. It was a standard test present in all trials, and I'd been subjected to it before. Of course, that was before I actually was guilty of practicing magic. However, I wasn't worried. It wasn't hard to control the small fire that burned within me, to keep it contained and away from my right arm, away from the stone and any chance of detection.

I picked up the stone, being careful to let my face remain impassive. The Provost leaned forward, looking eagerly at the stone. The lack of reaction from the stone seemed to disappoint him, and he moved straight onto the next test.

"We have to do something! The Provost'll execute her!" Sarasai whispered.

"He won't. Not without proof. " Yates whispered back.

A handful of Rogue members were present at the Courthouse, and Yates and Shesa were also there, Sesha with a rather disgruntled look on her face.

"Ye are new here. Ye don't know the lengths he goes to. He'll keep testing 'er 'til she cracks, and admits to bein' a mage, even if she aint." Sarasai said.

"But-" Yates started, but Sesha elbowed him in the ribs.

"Don't. She probably didn't tell Sarasai about her gift for a reason. I'd wager that the Rogue doesn't know, either." She whispered, before settling back into her angry, disgruntled position.

Yates sat back, sighing. His gaze returned to Alenne, currently holding an old book, and prayed for the best.


"Highness." The Provost said, bowing to the regents as he entered the throne room.

"Ah, Lord Thomson. You have news?" Jonthair of Conte said, sitting forward in his seat.

The widowed Queen sat on his right, staring down at the Lord Provost without a trace of emotion on her face.

"I fear we may have a situation in the Lower City, sire." Lord Thomson said, kneeling in front of the regents.

"Rise, Thomson. What do you mean?" Jonthair said, raising a black eyebrow at his long-time friend.

"Well, it appears that a group of known mages recently entered the city, from Sarain. Apparently, they are wanted in their own country, and made their way here."

"Have you caught them?" Jonthair asked, taking a sip from the goblet next to him.

"Unfortunately not, your highness." The Provost replied, looking at his feet.

Jonthair hissed in anger.

"Well, I suggest you find them and arrest them, immediately. I expect you to control the Lower City, Thomson. I have enough problems without worrying about silly little mages running around, and the thieves stirring up trouble every other day." He looked down at Thomson, his gaze stern.

"Is that all?" He asked, his voice cold.

"No, sire. I questioned a girl with purple eyes earlier today." The Provost stated, clearly hoping for a reaction from Jonthair.

"And why is that notable?" The other man said, clearly not seeing the significance.

The Provost barely concealed a sigh of annoyance before replying.

"Your highness, purple eyes are a known sign of powerful magic. Indeed, they are connected to a very powerful magical bloodline." The Provost said.

"Well, then I suggest you execute her, Thomson." Jonthair said, his face impassive.

"I can't, sire, she passed all the trials." He replied, his face thunderous. It was common knowledge that the Provost did not like it when someone walked free.

"Well, then, keep trying until she fails. If it is true, what you say about her eyes, no doubt she will not resist forever. Remember, all those with magic must be purged. We cannot risk it being otherwise." Jonthair said, waving the Provost away with a hand.

"Well, that was an utter waste of time." Jonthair said to the Queen beside him.

She turned, her cold eyes boring into his.

"Honestly, Jonthair, you could act as if you care a little more. We can't have an uprising in the Lower City." The Queen said, speaking for the first time since the Provost had arrived.

"We won't, if Thomson does as is required of him. He knows the consequences." Jonthair replied, sipping his wine again.

"You have other issues to deal with. I cannot govern the country alone, Jonthair. Tusaine destroyed Tyra, I won't have them doing the same to us. Mithros knows how they got so powerful without one of the other countries stepping in, but I will stand my ground. Once Jasson is King, this land will be on the path to glory, as it should be." The Queen said, staring straight ahead.

"No! Jasson is not fit to rule, he is reckless and careless. Besides, he has yet to be knighted. Every other country in the land has the same internal battle with magic as we do; that is a well-publicised fact. The time for war against our neighbours will come, but for the present, I feel that we need to wait." Jonthair said, before sweeping out of the room.

"Or, you are too much of a coward to do anything except maintain a firm grasp on your power." The Queen muttered after him as he left.

Jonthair had never been good for the country. He was far too focused on furthering his own means than he should be; it was dangerous. Queen Margaryte knew that he would never openly go to war against the other nations. Instead, he would let them slowly encroach on their borders, making them powerless. The Queen knew that the only hope of restoring her country's honour lay in her son. All she could do was hope that he had some spirit and a gift for leading, those key elements that being King required, those that had been missing in every male of his line for the past century.


I was once again thrown in a cell, those this time it was not in the cages. No, I'd been upgraded to the palace dungeons.

What an honour.

It seemed that the Provost had taken a particular interest in me since I passed his trial, and had had me moved to the palace cells so he could interrogate me more. Clearly, my eyes worried him.

I struck my fist again the iron bars, frustrated. I was trapped; the one person who never relented with trials was bent on proving that I was a mage. Only a handful of people did know I was a mage; the landlady, who was too unpredictable to rely on, the Sarain delegation, who I'd only just met, and...and Prince Jasson.

Well, that wasn't good. If he told the Provost about me, I was as good as dead.

Though, I wasn't far from it now, I suppose. How on earth was I supposed to escape this mess?

After an hour in the cell, I discovered that beating the bars did nothing except make my hands bloody. Instead, I settled for conjuring fireballs, a recent discovery of mine, and throwing them at the bars.

I wasn't sure how I'd learned to create fireballs, but spending the previous night locked in a cage seemed to have flicked a switch in me. I spent most of the night watching little specks of dust float around the cage, slaves to my anger, and creating fireballs and throwing them at the wall, simply to relieve my frustration.

I settled for the same technique here.

I conjured a mass of purple fire, launching it at the bars. After it hit, making a terrific scorch mark, I heard a gasp.

I whirled around in a circle, looking for the source.

"Ye can do magic." A disembodied voice said, sounding like it came from across the hall.

Cells lined the hallway, and I'd thought they were all empty.

Apparently not, though.

I can't believe I'd been so stupid, to blatantly show my gift where anyone might see me. Imprisonment might be making me insane.

A boy, about my age, covered in dirt slowly came into view, his eyes gleaming in the darkness.

"Yes." I said warily, eyeing him.

He was thin, grubby and a typical rat.

"Who are you?" I asked, looking him up and down.

"Name's Graf. Worked in the palace up til last week, when they found a magic token in me room. Now, I'm 'ere." He grinned.

"Not so bad, though. They haven't executed me yet." He spat on the floor, before sitting down, reclining on his hands, looking at me.

"Ye in here for magic?" He asked.

"Yes." I replied warily.

"I passed the trial with the Provost, but he's going to keep trialling me till I break." I said gloomily.

The boy laughed, a thin chuckle that floated through the air between us.

"Can't ye just magic yeself out?" He asked.

"No. The bars are resistant, apparently." I said, glaring at the bars in question.

"Well, looks like ye'll just have to go the old fashioned escape route then, unless ye want to stay 'ere." He said, grinning mischievously in a way that reminded me of Sarasai.

"You think we could escape?" I asked, curious.

Clearly this boy was resourceful.


Jasson crept slowly back down the corridor, away from his secret spyhole into the throne room. He had been eavesdropping on the room for many years, but what he had heard today was by far the most troubling. His Uncle had essentially given the Lord Provost license to trial Alenne until she cracked.

No, he would not allow the only other magical person he knew to be executed. When he was King, the country of Tortall would improve, as his mother hoped. However, Jasson was not as foolish as his relatives. He knew that allowing magic again would bring down the wrath of every other nation, and he was well aware that Tortall would not survive a war.

However, the growing unrest in the Lower City was also troubling. It seemed to the young prince that no matter what happened, his kingdom was bound for war, be it civil war or otherwise.

He shuffled out of the small corridor, crashing directly into someone, who gasped.

"Your Highness!" Elenna gasped, hurriedly curtseying to the prince, who smiled at her, grabbing her hand to pull her up.

"Lady Elenna." He acknowledged, dipping his head. "I'm dreadfully sorry for that, my mistake." He said, intending on continuing down the corridor.

"Wait!" She called after him, grabbing his arm.

"Is it true the Lord Provost threw Alenne into the cells?" She asked breathlessly, her eyes wide.

His own eyes widened at her apparent knowledge.

"How on earth did you find that out?" He asked, staring at her.

"What," She said indignantly, "You think you're the only one who can eavesdrop?" She grinned at him, revealing a mischievous streak that he'd never seen in any Tortallan noblewoman.

"Fair enough." He said, grinning back at the girl he now saw as a kindred spirit.

"How do you know Alenne?" He inquired.

"Bumped into her a few times in the Lower City. She's a good person, she shouldn't be subjected to endless trials." She turned to look at him, her eyes boring into his.

"We have to get her out." She whispered.

Jasson looked at her, weighing up his options. He had no real idea why Lady Elenna was so invested in freeing Alenne, but he wasn't going to question an ally at a moment when he needed one desperately.

"What do you propose we do?" He finally asked, the corner of his mouth turning up in a smile at the prospect of defying his Uncle and the Lord Provost.