The Dragon's Slave

Chapter 29

The trial began outdoors in an open area, dug down beneath the level of the ground in ever shrinking circles.

"A theater," Tharissa explained from beside me as we neared one of the four sets of stairs that led downward to the lowest levels. "But it is mostly used for sparring and everyone calls it the pit."

The pit. The name suited my blunt and defensive mood. I would face Kurath here, Tharissa had explained the very basics of shifter justice.

Technically Kurath had been banished, years ago, for some fault. Someday I vowed, I would have Dynarys explain the history. But at one time he had belonged to the Amber Aerie pack. For that reason, and the fact that his insult was to the Amber Aerie pack alpha, he was to be tried by the joint justice system of both races.

Dragon Lords filled the theater seats. Most were dressed in subdued colors and dress robes. Nothing so frivolous as was worn at the banquet. Yet here and there a pop of color showed. Many had expressions of bored disinterest, but some leaned forward, eyes focused on the lowest level intently. There were shifters present too, segregated mostly, to one side. They might have been mingled with humans, I still struggled to tell the races apart.

An uncomfortable amount of attention turned my way as we peaked the steps. I held my breath.

There, on the theater floor, Kurath knelt. Bound by long thick irons that stretched tightly and held his position. The metal chains looked as though they might weigh as much as he did. Three guards stood above him, two Dragon Lords, wings at their full, I assumed the third was a shifter given his bulk.

Illaise was present as well, her mixed and matched leathers stood out, as well as the fact she was very nearly the only woman present, besides Tharissa and myself. She stood stiffly to the side, a deep scowl on her features that did not lighten when her gaze landed on me.

I stepped down delicately. Uncertain in the pale blue creation Tharissa had insisted on. Trial, to me, was not a place for silks and lace. My hair was pulled severely back into a tight knot at the nape of my neck, giving room for the gauze veil that covered the shiny black locks.

The bodice was tight, so much so that it restricted my breathing slightly, and decorated with darker blue embroidery. Not practical, yet to appear otherwise was, apparently, unthinkable. A dragon's mate nor the mate of the Shifter's Alpha could appear in less. I narrowed my eyes at Illaise. Somehow she got away with such blasphemy.

A length of white silk appeared before me, framed around a pale face with startling blue eyes that were swollen and red. I couldn't remember the woman's name, or if I had ever learned it. Pourtus's mother. She did not look well.

You wouldn't look well either, learning the death your son suffered. I paused sagely. For a very long time she stared at me, saying nothing though her lips tightened into a thin line and tears rimmed her lower lashes.

I tried not to feel guilt. Tried to remind myself I was not responsible for Pourtus's choices. The image of him standing above me, blade red with my blood. He had intended to kill me, and no remorse had crossed his features then. Even so, in the face of the woman's devastation, I couldn't help but wish it had been different. Did she blame me?

"Come, Amtine," her mate urged. And there was no mistaking his look. Bitter hatred stood openly on his face as he looked first to me and then to Dynarys at my side.

She relented, though not even a hollow smile was aimed toward him. He gathered one of her shaking arms over his and led her away.

"I fear there are members of the aerie rallying for your banishment," Tharissa frowned on my right. "Jaithuk and Amtine lead them. They've tried to have Dynarys expelled before, to no avail of course."