They approached the courtroom from the back, missing the grandeur of the front facade. Still, Rina recalled it from their ascent up the mountain. An immense, temple-like structure that towered above the other buildings on the platform, it had shone almost as white as Mai's palace. Broad steps led up to nine pillars carved into figures. A pair of magisters, one on each end, to represent the Magisterium that held their society together. Moving in, Arkis and Elia, to remember what the thirst for power could lead to if left unchecked. Next, King Hellador of Eurora and King Samium of Denea who had organised the marriage between Mai's parents, one that should have paved the way to peace. Further in, King Raia and Queen Kiera, who had sacrificed all to bring Mai into the world. And at the centre, Mai, the one who had guided them through the storm and created a new world order. The one who would continue to ensure peace, order, and prosperity.

Rina hoped those who walked beneath the sentinels with their sacks of fruit and vegetables would remember the wisdom the pillars offered, and she prayed Sara would seek their forgiveness.

Their group's entrance into the courtroom was far from auspicious. Olav navigated utilitarian passages designed for guards and public servants, circumnavigating any of the building's famed paintings and sculptures as he cut directly to their destination.

A hum of voices simmered to the surface as they neared a door in a sparse section of the corridor. A hammer clanged. "Silence!"

Olav opened the door and ushered them inside, the words of the judge ringing out, sharp and clear.

"A person's body is their own. To take from another, without their permission, is amongst the gravest of crimes. I need not remind you why, Agum Nar, I find you guilty of this crime. Now balance must be restored. To pay for the innocence you stole, your victim may take something from you—without your permission: a treasured item, your name, your eye. Esther Al, I let you choose."

The mumbling resumed, punctuated by shouted heckles and the thumps of objects slapping the ground. Rina felt the hairs on the back of her neck and arms stand straight.

Olav indicated for them to follow him into a booth with four chairs. Rina, Anya, Anat and Martha sat while the men stood behind them, their shadows adding to the gloom of the alcove. Olav pulled back a curtain to reveal the scene below.

The room was vast. A blue star-spangled ceiling held up by white and red marble columns, and under it, rows and rows of benches hewn into the mountain stone, sloping down to a half-moon orchestra where a man and a girl in her late teens stood. Before them, seated on elevated marble seats, eight witnesses sat, their robes ranging from the ochre of acolytes, the blood-red of initiates, through to the dark-maroon of senior magisters.

Above them, on a dais, a senior magister presided, the edges of his robe trimmed in black. He was old and unassuming looking, with receding white-grey hair and light eyes lost in a pale, puffy face. However, his robe and the silver diadem with the sizeable yellow of the Carnelian Crystal on his brow were indisputable signs of his authority.

Despite this, nine armed guards stood to attention, their hands behind their backs.

"Your Honour, please, don't—" Agum shuffled across the floor, toward the podium, the chain at his feet clanging on the stone.

The judge didn't bother to look at him as three guards stepped forward and blocked his passage.

One guard said something to Agum who blanched. He stumbled back, eyes wide as he turned to the girl, hands clasped together in supplication. "Please," he begged. "I'll give you—"

Even from a distance, Rina saw the way the girl's face twisted and heard her as she snarled, "Your eye. I think you'll give me your eye."

"No." He took a step back, shaking his head.

The crowd jeered. Something thunked against the Agum's head, and he dropped to the ground, an apple rolling on the floor. More followed, a variety of fruit and vegetables. Agum crossed his forearms before his face, protecting his head from the harder missiles as they slapped and splattered into the orchestra.

"Enough!"

The witness magisters raised their hands, and a glowing green dome appeared, the projectiles bouncing off it like hailstones against roof tiles.

"I said, stop!" the judge repeated.

This time, the audience listened, and the missiles died off in pitter-patters. The magisters lowered their arms, and the green dome disappeared.

"An eye for an eye is your choice?" the judge asked in confirmation.

Hands on her stomach, Esther gave a short, sharp nod. It was then Rina noticed the ochre band around the sleeves of her gown—a pre-initiate. Had the lord raped a pre-initiate? Was he mad? She was one step from becoming an acolyte, and therefore firmly under Mai's wing.

"Disgusting," hissed Anya.

"Why would he do it?" said Anat.

"Because—" Anya paused and let out a breath. "Some lords are desperate to have a child gifted with the Carnelian Way so that they can scramble higher up the social ladder. Nar is one of those whose request to breed with—" her words cut off as if she stopped herself from saying too much.

"With what?" asked Rina, but Anya waved at the judge.

"You are certain, Esther?"

"He dared touch me after Mai chose me." She narrowed her eyes. "Of course, I am."

The judge's face softened, and for a moment, Rina thought she saw sadness there. "Revenge is sweet until the rot sets in."

The ancient words caught Rina off guard. She'd read the phrase in the tower, in a book from Old Denea—from the magicians. A reminder to be wary of vengeance. The mubash, poisonous blacks snakes, creatures of the taint, were said to thrive on this moral rot, and in extreme cases, to have taken root in tainted individuals, using their bodies as a host and, some conjectured, taking over their minds. The judge's words were ones Arkis and Elia ought to have remembered. Words Rina hadn't expected a magister to utter.

Esther's lips curled back in a snarl. "The rot has already been planted within me." She spat on the ground and glared at the Agum, visibly trembling now. "I'll take my eye, Lord Nar, and when your little bastard is old enough, I'll show him the dried little prune that remains, and tell him what happens when a man tries to rise above his station without Mai's blessing."

Cold slid through Rina, and her skin tingled. The air thickened, and her hands felt strange. She understood why it needed to be done—appeasement to the mother to offset any bitterness that might corrupt the child in her womb. And yet...

"Very well. Guards."

Lord Agum Nar began to shriek. "No! No! No!"

Two guards advanced, each one grabbing an upper arm. A guard rolled a restraint bed, angled upright, into the room, the wooden wheels loud and heavy on the hard floor. Agum continued to thrash, but the guards maneuvered him to it. They forced his back against the wood and buckled his arms, legs, and head down with the thick leather straps.

"Keeper," the judge said, and a senior magister rose and strode toward Esther. She handed Esther a metal instrument. From the height, Rina couldn't make it out, but she thought it resembled something between a surgical tool and shears. Esther took it, holding it with her thumb and finger, and walked toward Agum as the crowd watched on in silent anticipation.

Rina's hands twined about the banister, slipping on the smooth marble. A hand rested on her shoulder, and she knew without looking it was Olav. She swallowed.

Writhing uselessly beneath the restraints, Lord Nar began to whimper, the whites of his eyes bright in his red face.

Her implement poised before Agum Nar's right eye, Esther turned back to look at the judge who, in turn, inclined his head.

She was a small, slender birdlike thing, and her movements were as quick and precise as a blackbird digging into the earth and pulling out a worm. In. Twist. Out.

Agum's howl echoed about the room. Esther held the bloody eye high, like a grape on the tip of a knife, and saliva flooded Rina's mouth, along with that intense hunger for—blood. Oh, gods, she wanted blood.

Rina bent over and coughed up bile. The air wavered about her. Suddenly, she was hot, so hot, and everything was spinning.

Then her body left the ground, and she was moving. The darkness spread about her, until there was only a single point of light, a vague sense of movement and a low echoing voice she couldn't understand.

Cold water splashed across her face. She blinked, and the world dripped back into focus. Black eyes framed by an alabaster face emerged behind the drops of water in her lashes.

"Rina! Rina, are you okay?"

Olav's warm, calloused hands cupped her face. His eyes were intent. There was a red nick on his chin where he'd cut himself shaving. She was so hungry. Pressure built in her chest, the crystal there burning. She licked her lips. Just one kiss. One bite, and— No!

She shoved Olav hard. He fell backward, his head slamming against the wall behind him.

"What the heck!" His hand came to the crown of his head.

Standing, Rina searched for the door. She found it and reached for the handle, but Olav's large hand wrapped about hers and stopped her.

"Sit down," he growled.

She faced him, her eyes trailing the shape of his jaw, down to the vein of his neck, blue and pronounced, and throbbing. She dragged her gaze away. Her palms were wet. She was so hungry.

Swallowing nausea, she said. "I need to eat."

His lip quirked. "No need to assault me. You could have just said something. Sit down, and I'll get you something."

Without saying anything, she let him push her back down into a chair. They were in a small office, one wall lined with plywood boxes. She fought the bile that crawled its way back up her throat.

"There's a little time until the next trial. How about some fruit? The sugar will do you good. "

"No." She shook her head. "Meat. I need meat."

One eyebrow lifted. "Meat? Are you sure?"

"Yes. And whisky."

"Meat and whisky?"

She nodded.

"Nothing else?"

"Just that—not too cooked."

With a shrug and a chuckle, he left the room, muttering they were the last things he would put in his mouth after chucking up his guts. He was wrong. The steak was tender, and the taste of iron danced across her tongue, dampening the desire for blood enough to let her maintain control. The whisky was far smoother than anything she'd drunk in her uncle's house. It filled her chest and belly with warmth, and her shoulders began to relax.

Olav eyed her as she ate, his face paler than usual. When she made to pour her fourth snifter, he leaned over and pulled it away.

"Enough."

She slumped back in the chair, wiping her hands across her skirts.

"Better?"

She nodded. "Much better."

The vein still throbbed and pulsed at the side of his neck, but with a full and settled stomach, it was much easier to redirect her attention.

"I'm sorry," he said, leaning against the wall. "I should have warned you."

Rina hunched her shoulders. "I've seen things before, you know..."

Executions and whippings were far from everyday occurrences in Amadore, but they did happen periodically—and sometimes attendance had been mandated. She'd never seen someone enjoy torture, though. Nor had she chosen to watch it.

Olav didn't say a thing, but expression said it all. He wanted to take her back to the acolytes level and their dormitory. He tilted his head as if to listen beyond the door. "They'll be starting soon. What do you want to do?"

"If we're there, Sara won't be alone—no matter what happens."

His mouth stretched into a flat line. "As you wish."

★☾●☽★

A/N: Hi everyone. Thank you again for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. Take care!