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Kadin
ARIE SLIPPED BACK INTO the room and I exhaled. Gideon’s interrogation was thorough; the smallest details labored over, actions questioned, memories recalled. The Jinn didn’t take judgment lightly.
After pacing the room for a while, Gideon had told us to be still or leave. Now my men and I lounged against the walls, chairs, and bed. Illium even snored softly in the corner. I’d perched in a chair near the door without thinking much about it until Arie showed up. As soon as she closed the door, she approached me, eyes on the ground, and whispered, “May I speak with you privately? I only need a moment...”
Despite my intentions to ignore her, I agreed, fighting the guilt that plagued me for how I’d treated her earlier. We stepped out into the dark hallway. The rest of the inn had gone to bed long ago and it was quiet. She still didn’t meet my eyes, crossing her arms. I swallowed, fighting to keep my mental walls up. I’d been harsh earlier. Maybe I should apologize. And tell her she could stay with us a few more days if she needed. I could handle a few more days, right?
“I’m so tired,” she said, before I could form the right words. Yawning, she rubbed her eyes. When she finally lifted her gaze, it radiated sadness that tugged at my emotions. “My room is right next door and that awful prince is so loud.” She pulled out her room key, fiddling with it. “Would it be okay if we trade rooms for the night so I could get some sleep?”
I blinked. I’d been expecting her to bring up her Gift. Maybe she was as nervous to mention it as I was. I reached into my pocket without thinking, exchanging my key for hers. “Of course.” Just because I didn’t fully trust her, it didn’t mean I wanted her to suffer.
Swallowing again, I tried to figure out how to tear down the walls in my mind, so she could see my confusion, but she turned to go. “Thank you Kadin. Goodnight.” Her tone was solemn.
“Goodnight,” I called after her. We could talk in the morning. My mind shifted back to Prince Dev, where Gideon was listing every torturous thing the prince had been up to since Naveed and I had left town.
Hours passed in the tiny room, before Gideon finally spoke the words I’d been waiting to hear for years: “It’s time to pronounce judgment.”
My men sat up. Naveed bumped Illium’s arm to wake him, and we all turned to Gideon.
“Prince Dev of Baradaan, I pronounce you guilty of misusing your Gift,” Gideon began.
“That’s not tr–”
Gideon snapped his fingers and once again held a wet, pink tongue while the prince roared wordlessly, struggling against his restraints. This time, Gideon ignored him, moving toward the window where the first hint of dawn crept in, filling the room with a soft light.
“It seems fitting that a punishment for misusing the Gift of Tongues, would be the removal of the offensive organ,” Gideon continued, and we all gaped at the tiny piece of the prince in Gideon’s palm as he stretched his arm out the window and waited patiently.
An enormous bird with a wingspan as large as my horse swept down and snatched the tongue from Gideon’s hands in its cruel talons, swooping up and away as suddenly as it had appeared.
Prince Dev cried out. Can he still feel his tongue? The bird rose into the skies to devour it, unseen. As I turned to look at the prince, he fainted.
I glanced at Gideon, and pictured my mental shields lowering. Thank you.
He nodded, once.
Naveed stared at the prince as well, tears in his eyes. This was our justice. The prince who’d stolen his tongue would finally know how it felt. A fitting punishment in more ways than one. But I felt numb. Why didn’t it feel like enough?