Page 27 of Daughter of the Serpent

“No!” She cried, her heart thrumming. “I killed no one, my lord.”

“Then how did the guards happen upon you surrounded by their dead bodies?” He tapped his fingers on the wooden table, his impatience showing in the lines of his face, the one vein that pulsed in his forehead.

“Baldr’s men came upon me…they wished to harm me.” She could feel the hot tears climbing to her eyes despite her desires. Fear now held her in a choke hold, her mind and body left spinning at his accusations. “But they failed. A man - a stranger came from the darkness. It was he that slayed them all. I never hurt anyone!”

“How convenient for you,” He ground his teeth, flexing his jaw. “A stranger who disappears in the night before anyone else can spot him…and who would this person be?”

“I don’t know…” Her heart hammered in her chest, desperation clawing at her insides.

How could she get him to believe her?

“His face never came fully to the light.”

Rederick huffed, not bothering to meet her eyes. “And your magic?”

“It overwhelmed me.” She quivered, “I…I couldn’t control it. But I never harmed anyone! How could I, when they were killed not by magic but by the blade?”

Taking another fig from the table he popped it onto his plate with a weighted sigh. “You disappoint me Sylvie, and this is not the first time. You know just as well as me that anyone skilled enough with magic could have someone else do it on their behalf,” He shook his head, “and it seems you have done a rather good job of hiding your magical abilities.”

“I could never do that my lord, I am not capable…” Sylvie started, yet tapered off quickly. “I haven't ever been able to wield fully…”

Her eyes flitted around the room, her heart pounding in her ears. How could she explain she partook in the sacred right, and the unexplainable had happened? How could she tell Rederick himself how she had come into such power, when she had no idea herself?

“Until last night.” He finished on her behalf. “It is clear, all of this is rather convenient…”

Sylvie felt her heart still, her body go rigid.How could she prove her innocence?

“Regardless you have to be taught a lesson,” He spat, lifting another fig to his mouth. “You are too rebellious for your own good. The god’s will not be pleased with you.”

“I will take whatever punishments they relay to me, my lord.” Sylvie replied carefully. “I am but a humble servant.”

“You are many things, child - but humble is not one of them.” His voice was low, weighted. “You cannot deny what you are. That is why I have always had my watchful eyes upon you - it was only a matter of time before you let your true blood show.”

She flinched, the words rendering a blow she still hadn’t known could leave fresh scars.

He smiled, his yellowing teeth gleaming in the light. “With your actions, you only keep proving me right.”

He moved toward her, his thin fingers trailing along the skin of her ripe flesh. “You think you can live as a faithful, devoted servant of the light - yet your darkness permeates everything you touch. Your treachery and dishonor can no longer be concealed.”

He turned, his robes bellowing in his wake as he moved from her, his voice like his cold fingers that still felt like they gripped into her flesh. “I must render the wickedness from you.”

He looked back, his eyes weighted, assessing - making her wish the floor would swallow her whole. A haunting smile spread his lips wide.

“How, my lord?” Sylvie weeped.

“I would love to take it from your flesh right here and now, yet alas the families of the departed demand retribution.” He sighed once more, his eyes devoid of emotion.

“You will be put before the elders for judgment.”

Sylvie's eyes darted around the temple’s feasting room, taking in the faces that filled every chair. The villagers had gathered in full force, eager to witness her sentencing for the night's lethal events. The longwooden tables, laden with half - eaten plates and overturned goblets, stretched across the hall, their surfaces scarred and worn from countless feasts, too many to number. The lingering aroma of salted meat and sweet pies wafted through the room, making her stomach turn. She couldn’t bear the thought of food when she could hardly stomach the reality she now found herself in.

At the front, Rederick sat perched on his polished throne, the other elders flanking around him, their high - backed seats a stark contrast to the simple benches below. Rederick gazed down at her, eyes narrowed into slits. She could feel the power of his magic, thick and oppressive, stirring like a wolf ready to pounce upon its prey. Likewise, the crowd's gaze weighed heavy, a tangible pressure that seemed to crush her from all sides. The prickling stares and hushed whispers of those who believed her guilty were tangible, piercing her energy field like a multitude of tiny daggers eager to slice through her completely.

Mercy would not be found here; she knew that.

Though innocent, the people and elders had clearly already made up their minds, their verdict etched in the lines of their faces and the hardness of their eyes. They were eager to brand her as evil, wicked - a daughter of darkness itself.

Sylvie felt an invisible hand tighten around her throat - fear, gripping and squeezing. She swallowed it down, digging her nails into her own palm in an attempt to calm her own scrambled thoughts, yet a scuffle in the crowd captured her attention. She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes instantly locking onto Haldor as he thrashed through the throng. His wide eyes burrowed into hers from across the room, filled with a desperate intensity. She knew he would be displeased, upset, but relief flickered in her chest regardless - at least he had come.

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