Ve'Rah Daa (The Ephemeral: Book 3)

Chapter 3

After barraging me with confusing questions concerning my power and Will's exorcism—all while attempting to portray my difficulty in articulating the experience as a sign of incompetence—the Court finally closed their inquiry, satiated by my flustered responses.

Stupid Fat Cats.

They really thought they had my trial in the bag, and I couldn't wait to humble those cracked, conceited faces. 

Hopefully, I'd survive long enough to do so.

I downed an entire glass of water in thirty seconds, parched and exhausted. Insulting weeds was my natural instinct, surely, but confronting these buffoons with a level head demanded more energy than I'd anticipated.

Kudos to Will on unlocking his maturity before me—I'd been one irritating comment away from inciting the elders' stage 4 dementia.

When our break ended, Beckett waltzed up to the witness stand for my cross-examination, and Valerie shot me an eager thumbs-up from the gallery. I couldn't tell if she was wishing me luck or congratulating me on not smudging my makeup, but I appreciated the support regardless.

Honestly, I would not have been able to do this without any of my friends. Back in Belgate, I used to hate the idea that connections carried more weight than proficiency, but the importance of a widespread network had become painfully obvious the day I'd stumbled into Tom's base camp.  I could have been the most talented soldier in the world, and the army still would have kicked me and my x chromosomes to the curb without my brother's involvement.

Jaden had depended on her friends to start her pub outside the curtain, and even Siren—the most chronically independent woman I'd ever met—would have been put to death without Tom and Victor's scheming. She relied on her army, just as her army relied on her.

No history-makers had achieved anything on their own. We were all interconnected, like the silky, massive spiderweb blanketing the meadows of Primm, and it had taken me a handful of near-death experiences to acknowledge that only the strongest webs survived the harshest storms.

Beckett waited a few moments for the chamber to settle down, eyeing the bench like a backgammon opponent, exuding the confidence of a world-renowned champion.

"You know, Alex, you were right earlier today," he began, stuffing his hands in his pockets, as if this were a casual conversation, not a matter of life and death.  "The High Court has cast a spotlight on your failures, but we've yet to celebrate your successes." He tilted his head at the gallery. "The countless lives you've changed."

My friends and comrades beamed at me, a few of them grunting or whistling in accord. Victor whooped loudly, startling a few women in the pews behind him.

I shook my head, unable to stifle the amused grin bubbling to the surface. Hooligans.

Among the justices, only Aimes found the soldiers' behavior comical, almost like he'd never been exposed to such madness, and he thoroughly enjoyed this glimpse of a world beyond the walls.

"Alex," my pseudo-attorney said, addressing me directly. "In Belgate's annual Tournament, you placed among the top 25 contestants. You even received special recognition from the spokesperson for your comradery and resourcefulness, is that correct?"

"I...yes," I admitted, struggling to claim my own achievements. I thought back to how ridiculous I must've looked fighting in the Deadlock like a headless chicken. Gilmore had probably displaced a rib trying to hold his laughter in. "I think I even surprised myself a little," I added.

Mason rolled his eyes, no doubt recalling my cannon ball loophole and mischievous rule bending. To this day, he still refused to admit defeat in the obstacle course, and I suspected the competition would always remain a touchy subject for us.