The Ivory Rite

Chapter 18

The very next day I find myself thrust into an unfamiliar world. I met the members of my Tricouncil in the days leading up to Samhain, but I'm woefully unprepared to see them under our current circumstances.

At present we gather in the royal dining room, the Ancients sitting stoically to my left, Elite and White Watch spread around the remainder of the table. Normally meetings are held in the Capitol building in Glace, the grand space constructed as an excuse to keep the Tricouncil away from royal grounds after Calder's death. Margret always loathed the trip, but it was unquestionably preferable to hosting guests in the castle, lest anyone see me.

I've insisted we skip the formality for several reasons. This location allows us to convene with haste, and it's already been five days since the attack. Also, it's hardly necessary to keep people out of the castle on my account anymore, now that I'm expected to keep a high profile as queen.

I occupy the seat Margret always took during our lonely dinners, and despite the fact that I'm adorned, I feel more than a little out of place. It's clear most of the men seated around me feel I am here for ornamental purposes. I can't help but wonder if Margret was content in that role.

I am not.

We've been arguing the fate of the captured rebels for close to two hours. The public is pushing for immediate executions, and the elite members of the panel are eager to comply.

"We must be swift and unrelenting in our punishment," Fuar Caven, my former dance partner, blusters. I startle a little when he beats his fist against the table, but I can't begrudge him his anger. He lost his brother and eldest son in the attack.

"How can we be sure these men were involved without holding a proper Trial?" I interrupt for at least the third time. "Doesn't it set a dangerous precedent to ignore our judicial proceedings?" The man glowers at me.

"With all due respect, your Majesty, you don't know how these things work yet." His heavyset face is scarlet with anger. I'm far from shocked by his lack of respect. The short time I spent with him at Samhain prepared me with the knowledge that he doesn't take me seriously. I feel immense pity for his loss, but my patience is wearing thin.

"Actually, I do know how these things work," I tell him. "You need due cause to imprison men, and it seems you have that, having found those in question on royal property without proper invitation. Suspects are to be incarcerated for a full thirty days prior to Trial. As it's only been five since the attack, they will remain in the Prison of Ove for twenty-five more days before they are tried by a tribunal of our choosing."

There are community jails on both sides of the Border, but the maximum security Prison of Ove sits on the east side of the isle, on a peninsula. Rough ocean prevents escape by surrounding the establishment on three sides, and heavy Border control runs across the small strip of land connecting the prison to the rest of civilization.

There are no settlements within miles of Ove for both security purposes as well as noise regulation. It's said that screams from tortured prisoners can be heard around the clock. As far as I'm concerned Caven's complaints about leniency are without merit—the incarcerated men are being dealt with brutally in their new environment. Many of them probably already wish for the death he's so eager to deal out.

I stare at the men sitting before me, struggling to keep the aggression I feel from reflecting in my tone. Someone needs to be the voice of reason among those who are too impassioned to think clearly.

"There is no time for Trial!" Caven continues to insist. "These men must pay for their actions—"

"I want more than the payment of their lives, Duke," I interrupt, finally losing my temper. "I want answers. I want to know how these men made it across the Border and through Glace without proper means. I want to know how they breached the castle walls! How will we prevent these things from occurring again without answers?" I pause, letting the point stick. "How can we gain such answers if these men are dead?"