HORNS (BoyXBoy)

Chapter 184

Chapter One Hundred and Eighty Four

This was it.

This was really it--the trial had finally begun, all twenty-five satyrs who'd brutalized my dad were sitting with us in front of millions of spectators all over the world, and my hands wouldn't stop shaking. It felt like every second of my life had been leading up to this.

Right here. Right now.

This was the defining moment of our lives.

My father's and mine.

He would finally get justice for himself... my existence would finally be redeemed... it was finally starting, the day had finally come. 

So, why did I feel so uneasy? 

Aside from the fact that I was quite literally sitting in a diamond cube the size of a huge house that shone with strange magical energy, and the fact that there were millions of people staring at me through the glittering walls like a bug under a microscope, the opening speech that Archduke Heros had been giving us thus far seemed long, boring, and clinical.

He'd started off by explaining the stages of the trial, save for the last one--which was, if Bash's words on the flight to England held up, still somewhat of an unannounced decision that Queen Beira was intending to spring on everyone before any sort of verdict could be given.

I could only listen in silence as he listed off the major laws that all fae and faeries, above ground and below, were required to follow as fellow denizens of the same overall species as well as why they had to. He then went on a tangent pertaining to different cultures, their impacts on the mind, and other complex things that I didn't really see the point of bringing up, though I had a sneaking suspicion he was either trying to create a web of excuses for the twenty-five monsters sitting at the other table off to my right or trying to make us look bad to everyone.

It was like something alive was squirming around in my body, a sense that something wasn't quite right, that something was just... out of place. The entire time I sat there listening to Heros, my stomach was completely and thoroughly unsettled, and I hated it.

Still, I listened without a word, legs pressed together, staring at him attentively. His voice echoed uncomfortably, bouncing off the walls.

He really does like to hear himself talk, I silently muttered, trying to avoid making a face when he went off on a tangent about the honesty and righteousness of Gwenhwyfar's bloodline. Is he seriously talking about righteousness when he tried to kill one of his own kids? When he didn't even show remorse for his own actions?

I shuddered: Heros Dalmadora, so far, had been the only one speaking and from the looks of things, he was even in charge of the trial's proceedings. Why he was in charge, I didn't know, but he genuinely seemed to be by all accounts. It didn't feel right to me. 

I could sense in the undercurrent of his words that he was against us, and that didn't feel very good. After all, how could I trust a man who'd tried to kill his own child for being ugly? He clearly didn't feel any remorse about his past actions, that much had been proven the night we'd been invited for dinner when he'd tried to defend what he'd done during his conflict with Sylias. Heros also seemed like the kind of individual who'd think anyone who didn't resemble his kind was ugly, too, so how the hell could I expect him to do right by us?

Maybe that was why I felt so uneasy. 

Or maybe it was something else.

I wasn't sure yet.

"--and as such," Heros blandly droned, voice grating on my ears and irritating me to the core of my soul, "there are many things that come into play with how different cultures interact with one another, which can cause a form of shock if one is not used to it. Lycanthropes like the ones sitting before us are rather brash and quick to react to the slightest thing."