he snatched his hand back before adding, “I’ve come to every Judgment Day since we got here, that’s all. I’ve seen Master Stormbreaker with his blades. Nobody can beat him.”
“Good,” she whispered.
“Most sword battles are over in just a few seconds,” Raaf went on. “The first blow landed—it’s usually the last.”
Enough, Dari wanted to shout, but she somehow held her peace. Her chest squeezed tighter and tighter, and it was all she could do not to make some sign against ill fortune, like a superstitious Fae.
Lord Baldric came to a halt in the center of the arena, pushed up the sleeves of his spotless gray robe, and unfurled his parchment. In his gruff, booming bass, he gave the traditional statement that marked the true beginning of Judgment Day.
“Be it known that we have gathered here on the morning after full moons, in the fourth cycle, in the year one thousand forty-eight from the founding of Eyrie, to seek justice and pass sentence on the Judged.”
As Dari forced herself to study Aron or Lord Altar or Raaf, anyone but Stormbreaker, Lord Baldric read seventeen names, all male, and listed crimes that ranged from repeated robbery to rape to murder or murders. He added dates to each crime, then announced the date of conviction, and the dynast court that issued the writ against each Judged.
The entire time he spoke, no one in the crowd uttered so much as a whisper. Raaf remained motionless beside Dari, and she was overly aware of how loud her own breathing seemed in the freakish quiet.
When he completed his list, the apprentice nearest the gate—Aron—stood, walked quickly to the closed barrier, and pounded his fist against the wood three times. Before he got back to his seat on the bench, the gate once more swung wide to admit seventeen Judged. They filed in one after the other, walking without chains or shackles, and they wore the clothing they came with, varied in design and tradition, but all clean and in good repair. Three had swords from Stone’s own armory, and bulges in their tunics and breeches suggested concealed weapons. Dari knew that these, at least, would fight. The other fourteen men seemed twitchy and overly focused on the gates, and Dari figured these would elect to flee and take their chances.
Indeed, Lord Baldric then read fourteen of the seventeen names, and those men stepped forward. “These are the Judged who have chosen flight. In the order that I spoke your name, do you have anything to say on your behalf?”
Each man denied the accusations against him. Dari couldn’t listen to their explanations or speeches. She didn’t care what they had to say, only that Laird Reese, the name of Stormbreaker’s Judged, hadn’t been included with that list. So he must be one of the three men remaining.
One of the three very seasoned-looking opponents who planned to fight their way out of condemnation.
Dari wished Raaf would take her hand again, but she didn’t want to appear weak or stupid, seeking comfort from a child.
Stormbreaker is a Stone Brother. He knows how to handle himself.
She tried to make her muscles relax.
But it’s not impossible.
Dari squeezed her eyes closed.
For the sake of all the gods, stop this chatter in your own head!
She made herself look at the Judged again, and chastised herself a few more times for her worry as Lord Baldric read two more names and sets of charges, and noted that these were men charged In Absence—convicted, but hiding from Judgment Day, not yet captured. Even this strategy couldn’t delay Stone forever.
“This is their third reading, and this day, they join those who flee.” Lord Baldric’s statement was simple enough. The men In Absence, having been given ample chance over the past year to present themselves at Triune, or surrender to a Stone guildhouse, were now to be hunted, whether or not they knew their doom was coming.
“Upon the next ringing of the bells, the gates of this Arena and the gates of Triune will be opened. Leave as you will. You will not be watched or followed. At this same time tomorrow, the bells will ring again, and you will be hunted by all fair means. May fate favor the truly innocent.”
A few of the Judged who planned to run looked smug, even excited, but most already had the wide eyes of prey too close to fangs and claws. Every Fae in Eyrie knew that combat offered a chance of survival, however small, but flight almost always