Page 68 of Spark of Madness

“Perhaps there’s a part of me that thinks Delle should be forgiven for choosing so impulsively. That maybe she should be given guidance and redirection, rather than endure this torture for a chance at a life that’s really no chance at all.”

“Is there any part of you that thinks I should be forgiven for my impulsive decision to run?”

Maybe.

I harden my voice, though my instinct is to speak softly. “After what transpired here tonight? No. You’re the worst kind of sinner, Mercy. You’re the kind of rebel who inspires rebellion in others.”

“Are you saying I inspired you to rebel?”

“I’m saying you inspire sin.”

“Call it rebellion or call it sin, but either way you say it, it’s admission that you and I were the same for a moment tonight.”

I bring my hands up, linking fingers behind my head, elbows jutted out and resting on the pillow. She’s not wrong. It’s bothersome that she’s right, because it makes me like her—even if it was just for weakened moments, even if it was her fault for inspiring my desire with her sinful intent.

“A moment of weakness isn’t a pattern worthy of punishment,” I tell her.

She scoffs, tugging against the rope around her wrists—I’d had to secure both to the bedpost—and the wooden headboard creaks. “A man’s moment of weakness should be as equally punishable, and it’s disgusting that it’s not.”

I can’t help but chuckle. “What the devilareyou, Mercy Madness?”

I hear her sigh, and she speaks calmly. “I don’t know what I am; I don’t know who I am. But I know I don’t belong here in Ember Glen.”

“There’s nowhere else for you to be. Ember Glen is the only safe place in the world.”

“Then perhaps I should be glad I’ll be dead soon.”

The resignation in her voice is alarming, and it creeps over my skin with the vibration of warning bells. Truly, I don’t know how else I would expect her to view her impending doom—it’s just the clarity in her acceptance that stabs between my ribs, slicing right through my aching heart.

There’s nothing else to say. There is no logic or reason I can counter her statement with. Perhaps she should be glad she’ll be dead soon because it’s so clear she doesn’t belong here—and there’s truly nowhere else in the world for her to go.

But what’s most bothersome is the fact that I’m not glad for it. I’m not glad that this sinner will meet the fate she deserves. And that’s a fact I can’t reconcile in my mind.

chapter twenty-two

Mercy

“DELLEDESERVES ANOTHERchance,” I plead my case before the members of the Control and the Elders on screen in the dark courtroom. “As the authority of this community, you should be guiding our youth, especially those who serve. Her decision to participate in the Trials of Dissension was impulsive, made after a particularly brutal first night of service. Her decision was a mistake. Not one of you here is above making mistakes. You may think I’m different because I’m a sinner, but at the end of the day, we’re all human.”

I don’t know whether my words hold meaning to them, whether they’ll understand my thoughts and their intentions, whether their minds are capable of the same level of rationality and compassion that I pride myself in having. I know they all think my thoughts are irrational, but they’re wrong.

I know they are—they must be.

The heat of the spotlight shining down on me makes sweat break across my brow. The Control sits in a semi-circle in front of me, hardly visible as they’re shadowed in darkness behind their black table. The courtroom is bleak, black, dark to inspire fear.

And it works.

Owen speaks first through the shadows. “No one forced Delle to volunteer to participate in the trials. In fact, we discussed her fate and whether she should beforcedto participate at the same time we decided your fate, and we chose to spare her. We’ve already granted her leeway, and I find the tone of your argument to be presumptuous against our compassion for the people of Ember Glen.”

“Agreed.” Killian leans forward and folds his hands on the dark table. “I find it presumptuous and offensive. Our concern at all times is the well-being of the members of this community. It’s the reason why sinners like you must be put on trial.”

Wesley crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back deeper into the shadows that further darken his already dark skin. “This is a waste of our time.” He turns his head, looking at Arlo at the end of the table. “You’ve got your hands full with these mouthy wards.”

Arlo glances at Wesley, giving a small smirk from the corner of his mouth, though it falls away quickly. He says nothing, then turns his attention back to me, watching quietly.

“I’ve said this from the beginning,” Theo speaks up, “Delle deserves another chance. But even I can’t deny the fact that shevolunteeredto participate. No one forced her hand, Mercy. It was her choice, regardless of whether it was the right one.”

“It was the wrong choice,” I speak boldly. “It was her moment of weakness. That night of service where she ran was brutal. A servant died. Any new servant would be terrified of serving again.”

---