Page 86 of War Hour

Lord Drytas stands, strides sweeping across the room. Approaching the Truthsayer, he takes his hand before turning to the group. “Lord Torryn has reached out to me many times before, wishing to face the Court of Valors Trial. As within my rights as lord, I have denied him. And now we’ve learned he does not take no for an answer. It seems Lysta is how he planned to dethrone me. After finding his way into my court, he poisoned her against me, hoping by removing me from power, he would have access to Valor’s Trial. Lord Torryn infiltrated my court, seduced one of my citizens into committing treason. We have every reason to believe Lord Torryn is trying to disrupt the power balance.”

Shock floods my body, and I freeze where I sit only inches from Torryn. He tenses next to me.

Had it all been a lie? Or is Lord Drytas able to lie for the same anomaly that I can?

Then, as if sensing what would be asked next, Lord Drytas continues. “My name is Drytas, and I am the Lord of the Court of Valor, and I am—” He chokes as if trying to force out the lie. “I can’t say it. I can’t lie.”

This sparks an argument among the Crowns, but it all fades into the background. The only sound I can hear is my heartbeat in my ears.

Injustice had been happening in Falland long before I’d been born, but I never questioned Torryn’s sudden desire to help.

He’d been prodding my anger all along, stirring up feelings that eventually led me right to his plan.

My stomach swoops with each realization.

He’d been so upset the day I found him sorting through the remaining shards of the Trial’s entrance. He’d been piecing it together and had led me away when I started asking questions. Distracting me from what he was doing.

I thought I had been annoying him.

“Who knows what length Lord Torryn will go to in order to garner more power? He testified against his own father for his crown. Do any of us really think he wouldn’t do ten times worse to us?”

When I look at Torryn, he stares back at me with dark dead eyes. There is no anger or guilt in them—not a single emotion passes.

I can’t stop the quiver in my lip as I look at him. Waiting for him to argue against them or explain that Drytas is wrong.

Lord Gennady speaks, a quiet whisper from the end of the table. “What of Lysta? Even if the things you accuse Lord Torryn of are true, which I am not entirely certain we have all the information, I do not believe Lysta has culpability in this.”

“I believe as a citizen of my court, her punishment is up to my sole discretion, is it not, Lord Gennady?” Drytas sneers.

“Which would be?”

“A punishment fitting this level of treason.”

“Execution?” Lady Ivianna gasps, eyes wide.

My heart races as I swallow a cry of outburst. The room falls silent. Hands shaking, I fist them in my dress’s skirts. My vision goes blurry, and I blink, trying to clear my line of sight only for tears to escape. Chasing down the flushed skin of my cheeks.

Execution. I’ll be sentenced to be killed?

How could they let Drytas get away with this? They were so focused in on what role Torryn has in this. They were completelyignoring what Drytas has done. No one noticed Drytas left out all the details of his own wrongdoing, instead pointing all the blame on Torryn.

They are just assuming that if Torryn had manipulated things, everything else we said is automatically untrue.

“That’s outrageous—” Lord Gennady begins, slamming a fist into the table.

Evander stands, and my heart thumps in my chest. He has been silent the entire hearing, avoiding eye contact with me. “Lord Drytas, your right to sole discretionary punishments was rendered obsolete the moment Lysta stepped into the capital. She has lived in these walls and communed among us all as if a citizen of the capital. Not of the Court of Valor.”

“And what is your point, boy?” Lord Drytas spews, eyeing Evander with pinched brows and a curled lip.

Evander addresses the table. “By the treaty, any punishments must be voted and sealed by the majority of the Crowns. It isn’t just up to you.”

Understanding the meaning of Evander’s words, my stomach swoops with the early fluttering of hope. A political loophole.

Lord Bralas steps in. “That law is meant to concern when crimes have been committed while capital is in session, not when the crime has occurred within a lord’s Cour—”

Evander shakes his head. “Yes, but the exact wording covers any punishments delivered while capital is in session.”

Lord Gennady quickly grasps onto my only chance. “So, it is up to a vote, then?”

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