Not opposed to murder, got it. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Many Orizians believe strongly in survival of the fittest.
“How about manipulating the free will of another being? She is not free now. Have they told you that?” I blurt out.
The lead witch’s ears twitch. “They have not.”
“She willingly entered and signed a magical contract,” Vincent rebukes, face entirely calm. “She is now free as the victor.”
“Lies,” I hiss. “She is bound to your command.”
He smirks. “You are an ignorant child who doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
My gaze flicks to Liz’s. Her face is slack, lifeless.
“Liz?” I whisper. Something is wrong. This isn’t right. Jarron shifts closer to me, squeezing my shoulder gently.
“Look at me,” I beg her.
She glances up, but even her eyes don’t look the same. I frown.
“Elizabeth,” the white-haired witch says with a heavy accent. “Do you currently have free will?”
“Yes,” Liz says through a tight jaw. Her eyes flash to mine, golden bright for an instant before fading into a soft blue.
“He forced her to say that,” I whisper.
Jarron nods in agreement but doesn’t make any effort to correct it. They wouldn’t believe us, not unless they could see the command for themselves.
Anger wells in my chest. “Would you agree to answer that same question after a truth potion?” I ask, pulling out a small vial. Mr. Vandozer’s eyes flare.
“It’s an insult to imply she would lie on sacred ground,” he responds smoothly.
I curl a lip at him, imagining again what it would feel like to strangle him with my bare hands.
One of the witches narrow her eyes at the dark liquid. “You are a witch, then?”
I slip the potion back into my pocket.
“Yes,” Jarron answers for me. “Most consider her magicless, but she is talented in potions. I’ve seen her magic at work. Every potion she uses, she creates on her own.”
“A magicless witch,” one murmurs.
“A fearless human,” another says after.
“An interesting choice in a mate.”
I can’t tell if that’s a compliment or an insult.
“Come,” the red-skinned witch says, “let us begin our trial. I will warn you, Prince Jarron, if we determine your claim false, we will make our declaration of war immediately. There will be no altering the course. The only way to halt the battle at that point, will be to willingly relinquish your throne but even that will not absolve you as the punishment for this fraud is death. Do you understand the consequences of making this official claim?”
“Yes,” Jarron says quickly, firmly.
Anxiety curls in my gut, along with fiery anger that they would dare threaten him.
I may be sentenced but they will not search for me outside of Oriziah.
Meaning his death sentence will really mean banishment. Even so there’s still a chance they capture and hurt him if I don’t do this right.
One witch snaps her fingers, and about five feet to our right, a large, round stone table appears. Jarron smoothly guides me to it.
