Page 60 of A Love of Wrath and Rapture

“Do you have anything to say in defense of the creature?” Harold asks, appearing impassioned more as an act than out of sincerity.

I take a deep breath, just glad that the crowd has remained quiet so far, save for that one outburst.

“Well, I’d appreciate it if everybody would stop calling Xeros an ‘it’ and a ‘pet,’” I say.

“We'll call him whatever we damn well please!”

I look to the crowd to try to find the source of the voice, but see nothing, as the anger intensifies.

As I really survey the crowd, I realize that I was mistaken. I see face after face contorted in rage, one even spitting into the air as I look his way.

My allies are nowhere to be seen.

Could they have really not bothered to show up?

Even many of the men I fought with are absent from the council chamber.

“I’d appreciate it if we skim over the semantics,” Harold replies, drawing my attention back to the front center of the room. “We have far more pressing matters to attend to.”

My fists clench tighter. As I look down, I can see the whites of my palms.

Keep your cool, I remind myself. There are times to fight, and this isn’t one of them.

“Can I have more context?” I ask, trying to keep my voice as steady as possible.

“As if you don’t know!”

My head whirls around again in a botched attempt to see who’s speaking.

“Last night, your pet went out into the town without you,” Harold says. “He was confronted by two men for violating his curfew. In response, he threatened both of the men.”

“He would have killed me too,” the familiar voice cries out. “If I weren’t quick enough, I would be dead right now!”

I fold my hands on the podium, trying to formulate a response. I realize upon inspection that I’ve actually drawn blood with my fingernails from how tightly I’ve held a fist.

This time, it’s not only my fate that hangs in the balance. I have to think about Xeros.

And although I’m certain Xeros could kill everybody in this room if he wanted to, I know it isn’t his nature.

I’m also not sure it’s the best solution right now.

“What were you thinking?” I ask, meeting Harold’s eyes, then turning to meet the eyes of the other council members.

His mouth hangs slack.

“Pardon?”

“You say you want justice for this man, or for Xeros?” I reply. “So what did you have in mind, since you think you’ve formed the entire story?”

“I want him dead,” the man cries out from among the audience.

I shake my head solemnly, hoping that the council won’t agree with him, as many in the crowd erupt in an uproar.

“Perhaps we should put it to a vote,” Polyn suggests.

I feel my jaw clench, my breath quickening.

Is this really what I get for hoping they’ll see reason?

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