Light slammed into my eyes like a punch.
I blinked hard. Once. Twice. My pupils struggled to shrink back to something reasonable. The sack that had been shoved over my head moments ago—gone. The silence, the murmurs, the whispers—not gone.
I was kneeling on cold stone. Smooth and pale. I half expected it to be marble, but it felt warmer. Not like tile either. Some weird, ancient stone that gleamed faintly in the wash of high, cold sunlight. My knees hated it.
My eyes finally adjusted enough to look up.
And, wow. Okay.
I don’t know what I expected—maybe a jail cell, maybe a courtyard, maybe some gloomy medieval broom closet—but this? This was next-level fantasy drama.
A hall. No. A Great Hall.7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhu2Ydq17bh
Think Hogwarts. Now make the ceilings higher. Add more windows, but wedge them way up near the roof like some overachieving architect had a grudge against natural lighting.7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡl0PY7nbKoM
Taller than the museum rotunda Mum once took us to when we were little. It went up so far it made my neck ache just to glance at it. I couldn’t tell if the roof was stone or glass—or both. Light filtered through it, somehow. Not warm light. Pale. Clean. A little too perfect.
The whispers were worse.
Dozens of people sat in long rows to either side of me. Elevated just slightly. Maybe a step or two.
They weren’t dressed normally. Not for anything I’d ever seen. Long coats, gowns with layers, rich colors, fabrics I couldn’t name. One man had what looked like a fur collar in the middle of summer. A woman wore something that trailed behind her seat like a silken root system.
They were watching me.
At the far end of the room—straight ahead—there was a raised platform. Five steps led up to it. Wide and solid. Not carved to impress, just solid like the rest of the place. On top of it stood three chairs.
No. Thrones.
The center one held a woman. She didn’t move much, but she didn’t need to. Her presence filled the space around her like a tide. She had a crown—or something like one. It shimmered faintly, almost invisibly. Not metal, not gemstones. Stars. Floating in a pattern above her brow like the night sky had been pressed into shape just for her.
Her eyes were dark. Striking. The kind of eyes that don’t just look at you, but through you. She wasn’t old. Not exactly young either. The throne to her right was empty.
The one to her left held a young man. Maybe a few years older than me. He sat straight, still, calm. His clothing was deep blue,
Not a single loose thread. He didn’t wear a crown, but something about him said important. Close to the queen. Son, maybe. Prince. No expression.
There were two others standing near the thrones. One older man in dark robes, standing behind and to the side. Another, younger, looking like he’d been reading from something—though now it was rolled in his hand, held tight. I didn’t know who they were. Advisors? Guards? Court assistants?
I stayed kneeling. No one told me I could stand. No one told me I couldn’t.
Then—footsteps. One of the men stepped forward and raised his voice.
He didn’t shout. He didn’t need to. His voice was the kind that carried by design. 7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLuT9qRWbpY
“In the presence of Her Majesty, Queen Elira of the High Dominion, and by the authority of the Crown, you are summoned to answer for your crimes.”
Crimes?
My shoulders tensed. I didn’t speak. I wasn’t sure I was allowed to.7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7j1kkqQL77
“You are accused of the unlawful destruction of royal land in the Southern Reach. You stand responsible for the loss of a cultivated field of vermillion root, a plant of both rare and strategic value.”
The words felt distant at first. Like reading subtitles in a dream.7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡX7Yx6j0lSs
“This damage,” he continued, “was reported by a bonded authority and confirmed by an eyewitness account.”
I frowned slightly, trying to catch up.7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡB2DYKk4DS3
“You are also charged with trespassing on a protected cottage—”
The cottage.7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDpRVTsOgxx
“—and with resisting lawful containment by royal guards”
I turned my head just a little. Some of the audience was murmuring now. A few heads shaking. Some eyes narrowed. Others wide.7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡv9FGE23Hlr
The man unrolled a small slip of parchment. Read something silently. Then lowered it again and looked at me directly.7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDXVm95QhN3
“Do you understand these charges?”7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhMwTQjFLSg
There was a pause.
The silence wasn’t awkward. It was too… still for that. Heavy. Like the air wanted to see what I’d say before it let me breathe again.
My wrists ached. My knees hated me. My mind was still catching up to the fact that I was in a hall so large the ceiling disappeared into soft white light—and that apparently I had committed crimes I didn’t even know were possible.
I let out a breath through my nose, “Yeah. Like an elephant’s always seen his tail.”
It wasn’t meant to be heard. It was just something my dad used to say when things made zero sense. Old phrase. Strange, probably. But it fit.
Apparently, I didn’t mutter quietly enough.
A few heads turned.
A voice from the side—a man I hadn’t noticed before, seated just above me in the gallery—tilted forward slightly.7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJShdAzj8u6
“What was that?”
I glanced up, only barely.7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ97OaLLmPL2
“I said,” I replied, louder this time, though still controlled, “that I don’t understand any of these so-called charges.” There was movement on the platform. And frankly,” I added, “it’s me who needs help. Not the other way around.”
That drew a real reaction.
Some of the watchers leaned closer. One or two whispered something to their neighbors. The man with the scroll stiffened.7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIbEV2oMvJD
“Just for your information,” I went on, the words sharper now, “I didn’t trespass. I was invited into the cottage. I would never—” I stopped, biting off the edge of the sentence. “I would never just walk into someone’s home.”
A woman—Teri, the woman I thought was just an old local—had told me to come in. I hadn’t forced anything. I hadn’t broken anything.
Whatever this was, it had nothing to do with me.
Another figure shifted near the thrones—one of the men in robes. He took a single step forward, lips pursed, expression stern.7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAzQ5lzqV41
“You will mind your tone,” he said, voice low but edged. “You are in the presence of the Crown.”
My mouth opened. Closed. I blinked once.7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlwqmdSGuy2
“I’m all for respect,” I said finally. “But I’m also for not being accused of crimes I don’t understand in a room full of strangers while tied up and kneeling.”
That earned a few startled looks. A sharp inhale from somewhere to my right. A flicker of amusement?—from the prince, who leaned back a little in his seat.
The older man on the other side of the thrones now leaned toward the queen, whispering something. She didn’t react much. Just watched me. Like she was studying a puzzle she hadn’t quite solved.7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6x76PEyf9b
“You deny responsibility,” the speaker on the floor said again, frowning down at me.7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsQGEFaOiE9
“I deny knowing what you’re talking about,” I shot back. “I woke up yesterday in a field I didn’t recognize. I don’t remember how I got there. And I definitely didn’t blow up a farm or whatever else you’re implying.”
The robed man’s frown deepened. He looked down at a small scroll, unrolled it again, then spoke slowly: “The damage was confirmed. A crater nearly thirty feet across. No trace of fire. No signs of tools. Only the remains of vermillion root. Destroyed.”
I shook my head. “You keep saying that like I know what vermillion root even is.”7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdw90MEVuUt
The younger man by the platform cleared his throat and stepped forward. He held a slim parchment in his hand—like it was too heavy for how small it was. “The report,” the man said, lifting the scroll slightly, “comes from the Witch of Tallowmere.”
The name fell into the space like a drop into still water. The ripple it left The kind of shift you felt more than saw.
No one gasped this time, not dramatically. But the people watching me sat a little straighter. A few exchanged quick glances. The man to the left of the throne seemed to inhale through his nose, like he was holding back a reaction.
I blinked. “The what of where?”
No one answered.
Apparently, I was supposed to already know. And clearly, they weren’t used to someone not knowing. I rubbed my wrists against the rope, frustrated.
“She doesn’t speak to the court,” the man with the scroll finally added, sounding like he was correcting me even though I hadn’t said anything else. “She speaks only with the Crown. And even then, only when she deems it necessary.”
I stared up at him. “So, let me get this straight,” I said slowly. “A reclusive forest witch who apparently doesn’t even like talking to people—decided to speak up just this one time to say I destroyed a farm field.”
His mouth opened, just barely. He hesitated. 7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡc0jRZwm2er
“And based on that,” I continued, “you kidnapped me from a cottage—that I was invited into, by the way—dragged me here, tied me up, threw a bag over my head, and sat me in front of a crowd of sparkly-robed strangers so you could accuse me of—what was it again?”
I paused just long enough for the silence to thicken. Then: “Ah yes. Farming crimes.”
The prince smirked.
The older man’s expression soured. “Oh, completely,” I added, dry as bone. “I destroy rare plants and violate ancient treaties all the time. Usually before breakfast.”
That got a real reaction. Not just from the prince, who actually looked like he wanted to laugh now, but from the woman seated beside him—the Queen. Her expression didn’t change, but her eyes—those strange, sharp, starry eyes—narrowed slightly. Like she wasn’t sure if I was a threat, a joke, or something else entirely.
The man in robes took another step forward. His voice, when it came, was colder. “This court is not interested in your humor.” 7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpMTJK49U3E
“That’s funny,” I muttered. “Because I’m not really interested in your courtroom cosplay either.”
The tension snapped. Not fully, but like a bow pulled too tight.
The younger man with the scroll glanced toward the platform, as if looking for permission to keep going. But the Queen lifted a hand—just slightly. He stopped.
Then—without any warning—one of the side doors opened with a low creak.
The guards by the walls snapped straighter.
A third figure stepped into view. The robed man who’d accused me dropped into a bow so deep it looked painful. Even the queen glanced toward the new arrival — and I saw it. The faintest shift in posture. Not deference, but recognition.
That’s when it hit me.
That was the King.
He walked slowly across the wide stone floor. Broad-shouldered, tall, with dark hair touched by grey at the temples and a beard cropped sharp against a hard jaw. His coat was deep green with black trim, and his presence was the kind that bent a room without trying.
No crown. But no one needed one.
He didn’t look at me right away. Just scanned the space like someone checking whether a picture frame was crooked.
When his eyes finally passed over me, they didn’t linger. No reaction. No curiosity. Just… noting.
Like I was a misplaced book on a shelf.
Then he turned to the queen — Queen Elira — who was still seated tall, her crown gleaming like a constellation caught in her braids.7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrw5o9MORW8
“Clear the room,” he said.
Just that.
And the room obeyed.
People rose. The guards stepped back through carved archways. The robed officials bowed again and swept out with rustling sleeves. No protests. No confusion. Like this was normal.
I didn’t move.
Neither did the queen, or the man beside her — the one I’d guessed was the prince. He sat with his head turned slightly, eyes fixed on me like I was a particularly dramatic puzzle. One elbow was propped on the armrest now, his posture lazy but alert.
Then the King turned toward a figure at the edge of the room.
An older man — armor worn but polished, hair short and grey, a scar cutting across his chin like a forgotten story. He didn’t flinch when addressed.7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ96saDrDwBb
“Captain,” the King said.
The man stepped forward and bowed. Not deep. Not theatrical. Just enough to say, we’ve done this before.7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZ0ueUyuFzK
“Take her to the east chamber. Stay with her. Lock the door.”7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ206oeY8dvn
“Yes, Majesty,” the man said.
So… confirmed. Definitely the King.
But something in how the queen stayed perfectly still, calm and commanding, told me she wasn’t any less in charge. Different kind of gravity, same pull.
As the King turned away and began ascending the steps toward the thrones, he looked at me once more — brief, unreadable.7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡA0Xw66RhS0
“Wait there. I’ll come shortly.”
Then he spoke to the queen in a voice too low to catch, and disappeared through a smaller arch near the platform.
The captain approached me with careful steps.7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqR12hpTL3g
“Miss,” he said, voice low and calm. “Can you stand?”
I looked up at him.
My knees felt like jelly wrapped in rocks, my wrists still ached from the rope. But his tone wasn’t cruel. Just tired. Like someone used to messes. Someone who cleaned up after other people’s orders.
So I blinked at him and muttered,7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQo4wQZ6uYe
“Yeah, sure. Can’t wait to gracefully collapse and ruin someone’s ancient rug.”7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNpdcbhpbS8
“Captain Marek,” I added dryly, reading the name stitched on the inside of his collar. “I assume you have a dramatic rug removal protocol for this sort of thing?”
Something in his expression shifted—barely. Maybe the corner of his mouth. Maybe not.
He reached down and helped me up without yanking. His grip was firm but steady. The rope around my wrists was unknotted quickly and dropped to the floor.
The skin burned faintly, but nothing worse.
We walked in silence across the hall. With everyone gone, the place felt even bigger. The echoes of my footsteps bounced back like ghosts.
The door we took was tall, arched, with a brass handle cool to the touch. A side corridor stretched beyond it, lit by pale light that didn’t seem to come from any lamp. The walls glowed faintly, like the stone itself remembered sunlight.
We passed no one.
The east chamber wasn’t far. Wide double doors with carved suns above the arch. The Captain opened one, held it, and let me walk in first.
I half expected a cell. But it wasn’t.
There was a fireplace, low-burning and quiet. A wide window framed in heavy curtains. Two high-backed chairs around a small table. No bed. No chains. Just space. Empty, clean, strange.
Not prison. Not home.
Somewhere in between.
Captain Marek followed, then shut the door with a soft click. A key turned in the lock.
He didn’t leave. Just stood beside the door, arms loosely crossed, gaze watching without pushing.
I wandered forward.
One of the chairs had a soft cushion. The window was open just enough to let in a breeze. No bars. But too high to jump without regretting it.
My fingers rubbed at my wrists again. I looked down.
Still no bag.
The bag I’d had when I woke up near that creepy dead field. The one I’d slung over my shoulder before stumbling toward the cottage. My phone, my charger, snacks, water bottle—all in there. And gone.
My stomach knotted.7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡL3FK5a4A8Z
I took a slow breath and looked around again.
I sat in the chair nearest the fire. The cushion dipped beneath me like it was used to visitors with heavy limbs.
Then I leaned back, closed my eyes, and exhaled through my nose.7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcI3VerNNze
Deep breath. Don’t panic. Don’t cry. Don’t scream about farming crimes.
Just for a second, I let the quiet fill my chest.
7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwNKXLV3gWb
