She shook her head in disgust. King Randor had kept a small army of mistresses, and at least one bastard son, but... he’d been a man. And he hadn’t been accused of incest. The very thought was sickening... no wonder so many people had decided to assume the rumors were true. One couldn’t disprove a negative. Nor would anyone believe the queen’s denials. Only a complete lunatic would admit to such charges, true or false. They’d expect her to say the charges were nothing more than a tissue of lies.
I could get her out, she thought. It would be easy enough. She could grab the queen and trigger the amulet. The handful of wards Storm and his fellow sorcerers had raised wouldn’t be enough to stop her. But I couldn’t return to the city...
A gasp ran through the air as Queen Francoise was pushed into the light by a pair of burly soldiers. Someone had dressed her in a royal gown, but they’d torn it open to expose the tops of her breasts to the watching eyes. Her face was scrubbed clean, all traces of powder and cosmetics - such as they were - removed. She looked more like a scullery maid than a regal lady. Emily’s heart went out to her as she was shoved forward. Normally, it was death to touch a queen without permission. The guards probably had orders to make it clear that Queen Francoise no longer had any power. Or protection.
The chant started again, more ominous even though it was quieter. Emily glanced at Althorn, then Aiden. Althorn looked grim. Aiden’s face was a mask so perfect Emily knew she was upset. She’d probably known the queen in her previous life, although they’d hardly been friends. It was strange to realize that Queen Francoise wasn’t that much older than Aiden or Emily herself. King Jorlem had wanted a younger wife and gotten one.
Jair took a step forward as Queen Francoise was pushed into the dock, her hands shackled to the wood. Emily shuddered. It was pointless sadism, if only because there was nowhere to run. The queen would be torn apart the moment the mob got its hands on her. She wondered why the rebels were even bothering with the farce of a trial. Would it win time for them to deal with the aftermath of the bombing? Plot a counterattack to drive the royalists away from the city? Or... or what? Perhaps they just wanted to make sure no one could back out, not now. They’d all have the queen’s blood, as well as the king’s, on their hands.
And Dater will be happy to make use of her, once she’s safely dead, Emily thought. She was so sick of aristocratic morons and power-mad wizards who thought power gave them the right to do whatever they liked to the rest of the world. No one will dare raise the old rumors once they’re no longer useful.
Jair cleared his throat, loudly. The crowd quietened rapidly. Too rapidly. Emily’s eyes narrowed. Jair had probably raised the crowd himself, then seeded it with ringers to make sure it demanded whatever he wanted. The queen’s death or... anything, anything at all.
“Goodwoman Francoise,” Jair said. The crowd tittered. “How do you plead?”
Queen Francoise looked at him, but said nothing. Her eyes were vacant, as if she’d been drugged or cursed. Emily reached out with her senses, just to check. There was nothing, beyond a faint tracking spell to make sure she couldn’t escape. It was one that would have to be renewed regularly or it would expire.
“You have been accused of a number of serious charges,” Jair pressed. “How do you plead?”
Emily felt a surge of disgust. She just didn’t like Jair. She understood him, she understood his motivations, and yet... he had gone too far. Queen Francoise was harmless now that her husband was dead. Her stepsons - Dater, at least - considered her a liability. She would serve the royalist cause far better as a martyr than a living person...
“How do you plead?” Jair smirked. “Do you wish to plead guilty, or guilty?”
The crowd laughed. Emily couldn’t take it any longer.
She stepped forward, into the square. “What are the charges?”
Jair blinked in surprise. The crowd seemed to recoil, unsure of what was going on. Emily was morbidly aware many of them admired her, but... how many of them knew it was her? Jair seemed equally unsure of himself. If he pushed ahead, against her, he might lose control of the crowd. Emily didn’t dare give him time to think, to reason the crowd might not know who she was or what she was doing. She had to try...
“What are the charges?” She allowed a hint of amusement to enter her voice, drawing on the memories of her own trial. “She cannot answer charges if she doesn’t know what they are.”
The crowd laughed, seemingly unsure which way to move. Emily thought she heard dissent, voices urging the crowd to jump one way or the other, but she didn’t dare look for fear of losing her nerve. She knew she could escape, or even render the crowd harmless, yet... she forced herself to keep her eyes on Jair. She’d just have to fake confidence until she actually felt confident.
Jair cleared his throat, loudly. “The goodwoman” - the crowd tittered - “has been accused of a number of crimes, ranging from stealing from the taxpayers’ treasury to high treason, immodest behavior, mistreatment of her servants and incest with her stepsons. These charges have been confirmed by witness reports...”
Emily smiled. “There were witnesses to incest?”
The crowd laughed, again. Jair’s face darkened. “There are witnesses to many of these charges,” he said. He brandished a sheet of paper as though it were a weapon. “I have a detailed outline of the royal accounts, written down by a former treasury accountant who was sacked for refusing to
