His lips turned down. “So you’re claiming to be innocent?”
“Far from it.” The manacles on my wrist met fresh flesh when I reached for my collar, revealing the thick scars across my throat left by my brother’s blade. One for every crime I’d committed that hadn’t been in the name of justice. And there had been quite a few. “But I’ve paid for my crimes.”
The queen sucked in a breath, her pale hand lifting to her own throat.
Something flickered across the king’s eyes. “If that is true, then why are you here?”
“Because Airren is in chaos and innocents are being slaughtered every day.”
“You are referring to the Danú trials?”
“They aren’t trials. They’re executions of innocent people who have lived in peace for far longer than you’ve been alive. Ninety percent of the witnesses are lying through their back teeth.” If not more.
The king rested his elbows against the arms of his throne and steepled his fingers in front of his pursed lips. “What would you have us do? Let every criminal go?”
Sure. Let them all go. Sincethatmade sense. “Give the accused fair feckin’ trials.”
“How dare you speak that way to your king,” Sir Robes snarled.
He didnotwant to get into this argument with me. Not today. I peeled back the curtain and let him see the monster in me, the son born of the Phantom Queen, black eyes and bloodlust. “I am a son of Tearmann. I have no king.”
“And if we do not agree to your demands?” Sir Robes asked, as if he held the authority here instead of the king.
“Then I will visit every town in Airren and take the heads of each and every royalist fecker your king appoints as judge until I find one who will give us what we want.”
Robes’ face went red as the soldiers’ coats. “Or you could tell your people to leave Airren.”
Who the hell did this prick think he was? We had been there long before the humans, and we’d still be there when they were dust beneath our boots. “Would you like to lose half the physicians, apothecaries, fishermen, farmers, milliners, and seamstresses in your country? Think of all those taxes.” I clicked my fingers. “Gone. Just like that. How will you gild your ceilings without their money?”
“How do you expect the trials to be fair?” the queen asked in a soft, melodic voice. She had a strange accent I wasn’t familiar with. Maybe from the continent somewhere.
Something warm and fluttery that felt an awful lot like hope swelled in my chest. I knew better than to believe making such large changes would be easy. Still, at least this was a start. “Hold them in a central court one day a week. I will preside alongside one of your judges.” That would give me time to deal with any other shite fate decided to throw my way.
The king gestured toward me with a bejewelled hand. “Why you?”
“Because I can smell lies.”
“Poppycock,” Sir Robes muttered.
I was really getting sick of his acidic asides. No one had asked for his opinion. Maybe I should. “What do you think of your king?”
The wrinkled old prune bristled. “He is my holy sovereign. I would give my life in service to the crown.”
“Liar.”
The vein pulsing across his forehead looked ready to explode. “I beg your pardon.”
“Have you ever gone behind your king’s back and done anything untoward?” I pressed.
“Never.”
“Liar.” Sniveling, sniffing liar. “Are you married?”
“I don’t see what that has to do with—”
“Answer the question, Reuben,” the king clipped.
“I am.”