the dark.
Aine stumbled to a halt, instantly surrounded by a dozen guards with swords and spears. Someone jerked her hands behind her back roughly. “Please, don’t let her—”
Something hard thudded into her head before she could finish the plea.
When she came to again, she was lying on her side on a stone floor, her hands bound in front of her and a rag stuffed in her mouth. The orange glare of torchlight burned on the other side of her eyelids. Someone slapped her face, and her eyes popped open.
“She’s awake, my lady,” came a deep voice beside her. Uallas.
Hands hauled her upright and into a chair. She struggled to resolve her surroundings for a moment and then realized she was in Forrais’s great hall. Macha stood on the dais like a queen presiding over her vassals. The keep’s residents and guests crowded the room, the nobles seated at the tables, the servants packed around the edges.
Aine’s heart did a little flip at the sight of the man standing beside her aunt. He was dressed like every other noble but for the sash draped over his shoulders, a symbol of office and authority. She knew the brithem who had presided over cases at Forrais for the last two decades, a fair-minded man who could be swayed by neither threats nor bribes.
This man was a stranger.
If Macha had gone to the trouble of summoning a different traveling judge, one who would presumably be more amenable to her wishes—and untainted by Aine’s abilities—she had been planning this all along. No wonder she had been cordial. She hadn’t wanted to take the chance Aine would flee and rob her of the pleasure of seeing her executed.
“Aine Nic Tamhais,” the judge intoned, “you have been accused of the crime of witchcraft, which is punishable by death in Aron. What say you?”
Uallas removed the gag from her mouth, but before she could say anything, his knife went back to her throat.
“Nothing but the answer to his question,” he murmured. “I’ve been instructed to kill you if you try to sway the men to your side again.”
Aine swallowed, mortal fear coursing through her.
“Answer the question,” the brithem said sternly.
Aine clenched her hands together. “I am no witch.”
“We have witnesses who swear you have used magic to heal on more than one occasion.” He raised a hand, and several people filed in front of the dais: Uallas’s manservant, Oisean, Roidh, Lia. She swallowed down the sudden lump at the maid’s miserable expression. Tears rolled down the girl’s cheek and fell to the stone floor. What kind of threats had Macha made to ensure her compliance?
“Do you deny this?” the brithem asked.
Help, Lord. I have made a mess of this. What do I do? What do I say?
Immediately a presence filled her, like air in a bellows, wind in a sail. She lifted her head and looked the brithem straight in the eye. “No, I do not deny it.”
Shocked murmurs broke out around the room.
“You admit you used magic to heal, yet you still deny a charge of witchcraft?”
“I did heal, aye. These gifts were given to me by Comdiu for the good of His people. If I did not use them, it would be an affront to my Lord.”
“Heresy!” Macha jumped to her feet. “What you speak of has been long denounced by the church. And you dare speak of affronting Comdiu?”
“Who are they to pass judgment on what Comdiu has provided?” Aine returned levelly. “The gifts were given to the followers of Lord Balus, yet they have been abandoned by the church in pursuit of its own power.”
“Clearly you have been ruined by your exposure to the Seareann heretics!” Macha shouted.
The brithem stopped her with an uplifted hand and addressed Aine. “You will not renounce your pagan ways?”
“I will not admit to any wrongdoing for exercising the gifts granted to me according to Comdiu’s great wisdom.”
“Then we will move on to the next charge. Murder.”
Aine choked on the word. “Murder?”
“Do you deny you used your power on Master Diocail and his guards? That your actions directly led to his death?”
The blood drained from her head in a rush. She might be able to refute the charges of witchcraft, but she could not deny she was responsible for Diocail’s actions. “He’s dead?”
“It might as well have been by your own hand,” Uallas said. Even if he were playing a part for Macha’s benefit, his tone reminded her she was well and truly alone. Tears spilled from her eyes.
The