table.
“Hmm. Blue is very becoming on you, Mr. Moore,” Laren said with a smile.
She wore a charcoal gray suit with a light pink dress shirt. She had applied the slightest touch of makeup to accentuate her features. Connor didn’t know why she even bothered to wear makeup. Her natural beauty was already more than enough to turn any head.
“Thank you, Miss Abelardus. You look breathtaking.”
She smiled and rolled her eyes.
“She already likes you. You can lay off with the schmoozing,” Lu, who was sitting to Laren’s right, leaned over to say.
Without missing a beat, Connor responded in a whisper, “Do I need to start schmoozing you, Lu? Or do you already like me?”
“The jury’s still out on that one.”
“Boys,” Laren warned as a hush came over the room. Everyone kneeled.
So far Connor had managed to push the Council’s decision from his mind. Now, kneeling in his dark blue suit, his tie spilling out of his coat, nearly touching the floor, there was no choice. He was faced with his reality. It was going to be a rough path, whatever their decision was. On one hand he would be announced as a Judge, a savior. The weight and hope and trust of an entire race would be on his shoulders. He would be sent forth to conquer an evil he hadn’t the slightest clue existed.
On the other hand, he would be denied the title of Judge, discrediting Morrigan and making him out to be an imposter. The trial, in that case, would continue with his, Laren’s, Lu’s, and even Katie’s fate hanging in the balance.
It was a bleak picture as Adolpho Abelardus’ voice broke the silence, “Thank you. You may be seated.”
There was a loud shuffling noise as everyone turned to sit.
“As you know we are gathered here to determine the fate of the individuals involved in the Catskill Forest incident. Yesterday, the Council was presented with both cases, as well as information regarding the identity of a half-blood that was turned. Connor Moore, son of Caderyn Moore, was presented to this Council as not only a Judge, but the savior foretold in prophecy who will delivery our kind from its darkest hour.”
The room was dead silent. The slightest sound could be heard as everyone held their breaths, waiting for the Head of the Council to continue. Connor sat, heart racing, beads of sweat forming on his brow. Breathing was starting to become a chore. He’d never experienced a panic attack before, however, he imagined he may be experiencing the beginnings of one.
Then he felt a cool hand on his own. Laren intertwined her slender fingers between his and gave him a gentle squeeze. His heart began to slow down and breathing came easier. He looked at her. She returned his stare, mouthing the words, “It’s okay.”
“After examining the evidence, taking into account Morrigan’s reliable history as a prophetess, and speaking with Connor Moore, the Council has decided that he is the Judge foretold of in history.”
The room erupted. For every shout of affirmation there were two shouts of doubt. Leading the crowd in shouts of dispute was the table parallel to theirs. Randolph, Christof and Faust were on their feet, yelling objections. The fancy suits they all wore contrasted with their less than honorable composures.
Adolpho was content to let the crowd have their turn voicing opinions. He was Head of the Council for a reason. Years of experience with unruly crowds taught him it was better to let them tire themselves out instead of breaking his own stoic composure.
Connor felt sick. Somewhere deep down, he thought they would see he was just an eighteen-year-old kid. He couldn’t understand how people who hardly knew him could have so much faith in his ability. What were they seeing? There was no sense of relief, no smile, not even for a second.
Instead of quieting, the room grew louder.
“He can’t be the savior. He’s too young.”
“He’s a half-blood. He’s beneath us.”
“Liars—their all liars! They killed the Ulfric family in the forest.”
While Adolpho stood patiently, willing to weather the storm, Ardan Hayes felt his elected Council leader was being disrespected. A sense of loyalty soon turned into the need to take action. Rising from his seat, he yelled for silence. It was useless, he just added another voice to the near hundred already in the air.
“Quiet! Silence!” he screamed. His black hair trembled with his anger. Ardan’s brown eyes had turned blood red—not just the pupils—his entire eyes. Connor had witnessed Faust and his family’s