Page 59 of Silver Claws, Crimson Tears
“Omari told us all about what you did in Hearthdale. How you saved Caspian, the High Prime, and even Silas himself.” He leans forward, his muscular frame casting a shadow over our food. “The way you made the most impressive Fire Vortex and took down bunches of Screechclaws.”
I remember the scent of burnt flesh, the ear-piercing Screechclaw cries, the heat of the fire. I remember the terror, the desperate need to survive, to protect. But I don’t remember being heroic.
“I just did what I had to,” I say. “Anyone would have.”
“Not anyone,” Adelaide counters. “Omari doesn’t impress easily. She said you werepoetry in motionwhen you dropped into the lake to save the High Prime.”
I snort, uncomfortable with the praise. “Poetry? More like desperate flailing.”
“No.” Nate’s voice turns serious. “Many saw it. Even Silas, though he’d sooner kiss a Screechclaw than admit it.”
My eyes drift to Vaylen again. Did he see me that way too? A heroine who saved his life? Nah, he understands, just like me, that Embernia needs the best from each of us.
“So what’s your defense strategy?” Nate asks, lowering his voice and leaning closer across the table.
I blink at him, my fork halfway to my mouth. “Strategy?”
“For your trial,” he says, as if it’s obvious. When I continue staring at him blankly, his expression shifts from expectant to concerned. “Please tell me you have a strategy.”
I set my fork down. “Um… I figured I’d just tell the truth.” The lie is like acid on my tongue.
Nate’s face changes as if he tasted something sour. “The truth? That’s your entire plan?”
“What’s wrong with the truth? I… didn’t kill anyone.”
“Dragon’s breath, Rhea!” Nate runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “Do you even have an advocate to speak for you?”
“I…”
“You need someone trained in the law who can argue your case.”
I stare at him blankly, the fullweight of my situation finally hitting me. I’ve been so focused on my missing memories and those haunting visions, that I haven’t considered the most immediate threat.
“By the four winds!” I mutter, sinking into my chair. “This is too much.”
Phoebe reaches across the table to squeeze my hand. “You’ve been through a lot.”
“My uncle is an advocate in Emberton,” Nate offers. “I could send a message tonight. He’s good, represented three riders accused of dereliction after the Riverford incident.”
My throat tightens. “I don’t have money to pay him.”
“He’d probably do it without charge once he hears who you are,” Nate says. “The Skysinger who disappeared for a year? He won’t be opposed to a little publicity.”
“And if he won’t,” Phoebe adds quickly, “we have more than enough gold between us. Our salaries just sit in the treasury. We never get the chance to spend them?”
I look around the table at their earnest faces, a strange warmth spreading through my chest. Friends. Real ones who believe in me. The sensation is almost more disorienting than my fractured memories. Guilt rears its ugly head. I’m lying to them, but what else can I do?
“Thank you,” I say, the words unfamiliar in my mouth. “I... don’t know what to say.” That they’re supporting a murderess, that I don’t deserve their help. I should turn them down.
“Say you’ll let us help,” Adelaide insists.
I nod, swallowing hard. “All right. Let’s get this advocate.”
As my friends talk, I lean back in my chair, fork clutched between both hands. The candle between us casts shadows across their faces, making them look older, harder.
“After Hearthdale, they eased us into patrol rotations,” Adelaide explains, absently running her finger along therim of her cup. “They sent us out in larger groups, always with veterans.”
“No risks taken,” Nate adds. “Though some of us were practically begging for real action.”
