Page 160 of The Eye of the Fifth
The woman looked down at her feet.
‘And do you admit to using the powers given to you by Eraura for destruction, and not for protection and balance as it is intended?’
‘I do.’
The silence in the room was so dense, Kyra was certain every single person was holding their breath. Goddess knew she was.
With a jolt, she realised that all four Wardens were gathered in the same room.
‘Gedeon Dewmaul, Prince of Zarynth and Fire Warden,’ Naal said. ‘You face certain death should the council vote against you. Do you have a defence?’
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Gedeon.
An overwhelming part of Gedeon wanted to say no. The part of him that despised himself just as much as the people around him did.
But a choice had been made the moment he had fled the Black Castle with Amala Opherion in hand. A choice he had to see through now, lest he forever view himself a coward.
So, he said, ‘There is no true defence I can give that will atone for my actions. But I will speak on why I am here. Why I have betrayed my mother and country.’
‘Then speak, prince,’ Naal Westerra said coolly. Gedeon had never met her before, but there was a strength and power emanating from her that matched every description he had ever heard of the great Air Warden.
Gedeon resisted the urge to look at Kyra before speaking.
He had no speech prepared, but he let the words flow anyway, letting the truth in his heart run his mouth. ‘I do not come to you to beg for forgiveness, nor to seek refuge following my banishment from Zarynth. The attack made on Phaenon was not an order I took lightly from my mother. Regardless, what is done is done, and I cannot change my choices, my actions that cost many lives.’
At this, Sunsi shifted and Gedeon knew from her earnest expression that she was about to say something, about to claim that it was Sekun, and not Gedeon, who had ultimately destroyed Phaenon City.
He shot her a single, cutting glare. Her mouth closed.
He continued, lifting his chin. ‘I come to you, Air Warden, because my sight has been restored in new, sharp clarity. Since my banishment I have seen, in my home city of Dracyg, how my citizens are treated. My people are suffering, and have been for centuries. I regret I did not see it sooner. As Fire Warden, I should have known, I should have realised. But I am no longer blind. Empress Azar will not confine her tyranny to Zarynth alone, this you know. War is coming, and I stand before you now to beg you to be ready for it. Do not forgive my mistakes. I certainly cannot. Kill me if that is what you see fit. I will not stand and beg for my life to be spared, should that be your decision.’
Gedeon did not take his eyes from the Air Warden’s. ‘But Iwillimplore you to use me. Allow me to be the Fire Warden, to serve this realm in its entirety, asyouhave done for almost a millenia. For freedom. For peace.’
Naal Westerra held his gaze, though her expression revealed nothing. The white-haired Eternal archer who favoured a tipped arrow leaned forward. ‘If you live, how will you atone for your crimes? My father was killed in your city. Was it by your hand?’ Her voice was smooth, and yet the venom behind it could have melted stone.
‘It was not my hand that killed him,’ Gedeon admitted, knowing exactly who her father had been. ‘And I will atone however the council sees fit.’
‘If it were up to me, you would already be dead.’
Naal held up a silencing hand. The archer said no more, but leaned back in her seat, black wings bristling. ‘Why come to us now, Gedeon Dewmaul?’ Naal asked.
Gedeon paused for a moment and allowed himself to ponder the question. There was truly only one answer. He hoped it would be enough. ‘Perhaps, in more ways than one, I simply saw the light.’
Naal Westerra watched him, her entire body as still as the mountain. Gedeon could glean nothing of her thoughts from her impassiveness. ‘I have heard enough,’ she eventually said. ‘I have requested each of you at this table to give your vote on the Fire Warden’s justice. Let your decision be led by the wisdom of the Four, and not by the longing vengeance in your hearts.’
Gedeon spied two flat crystals in Kyra’s fidgeting hands: one black for death, one white for life. They clinked together, life and death brushing intimately against the other.
‘Place your votes.’
Unsurprisingly, the archer’s hand was the first to slam on the table, defiantly leaving a black crystal before her. She glared at the male next to her as he hesitated, twin or brother by the resemblance, but then he too lay the black stone.
Two votes for death.
The red-head to his left revealed a white crystal. The archer hissed disapprovingly.
The healer chose black. As did Ruven.
