Reeca scowled at the scrawny man leading them at knifepoint through the barren field that once had been Rabante. The absence of any other living creature other than them was still a jarring reminder of what had happened. Cold wind drove the thin clouds through the sky and without the trees' canopies blocking the view of the sky, the plateau's gray lip was even more visible.

Wherever Brutus was leading them, it couldn't be good. Reeca cursed at the cuff made from pure glass shards around her neck. Elred tugged at it and even her magic couldn't dislodge it.

Brutus smiled. "Lesium laced with shard magic is a good combination, don't you think?"

Reeca didn't reply. Elred's face was set in a determined expression. A misplaced sentiment, if Reeca could be honest.

"How did you find us?" Reeca asked Brutus.

The shard fairy scratched his blond hair with the knife in his hand. Reeca moved to disable him but the cuff around her neck dug into her skin. She gasped as her fingers clawed at it to no avail. Brutus threw his head back and laughed. "No one can escape Brutus," he brushed a hand against his beige robe, dusting it of coagulated mud particles. "Now that we're approaching the royal courts, might as well mention to the Queen who caught you, no?"

"Shut it, Brutus," Elred snapped.

"Wrong answer!" Brutus snapped his fingers and a film of shards coated Elred's lips. He turned to Reeca and slid his knife under her neck. Stinging pain made a line on her skin. "What do you say, doll?" Brutus inclined his head at Reeca. His grin showed off crooked teeth that reminded Reeca of a banshee. "Tell the Queen of my hard work?"

"Go to hell," Reeca snarled.

The shards that covered Reeca's mouth burned and bit at her skin. How dare—

Brutus clicked his tongue. "No worries. Locals tend to stay away from politics, but not me," he shook his head like he was explaining something Reeca didn't get. "Look, I even did something those Upper City potheads couldn't do. Without us, the political families would wither away to tiny, brittle shards, yet they treat us like we're not even proper fairies."

He gave Elred a light nudge with his scrawny elbow. "Sounds familiar, Your Highness?" he grinned. Elred growled like a cornered animal. Brutus shrugged. "I have no doubt you think the same way, given your upbringing."

Brutus shoved his face into Elred's. "So, how does it feel getting captured by an industryman? Does it feel as shaming as I imagined it to be?"

The film in Elred's mouth disappeared. "Come on, answer," the shard fairy giggled and skipped forward.

"Shut it, Brutus," Elred snarled, rubbing the sides of her lips with her fingers. "Pulrin will have your head at dinner."

Brutus snickered. "Pulrin's dead," he waved his hand in the air. His knife glinted against the rising sun.

Reeca's stomach soured. Pulrin's dead? What would happen to the people of Rabante? To Cirasa?

Brutus placed a hand on his chest. "I'm next in line with Pulrin gone. As Rabante's representative, my first move is to haggle the Queen for a place in the plateau with the other noble families," he wagged two fingers at them. "You two will be my bargaining sacks."

Reeca raised an eyebrow. This bumbling idiot was the one set to replace a kind man like Pulrin? Disgusting.

"Say what, Highness," Brutus jerked his chin in Elred's direction as he walked ahead with his hands behind his head. "I know you've always hated my guts even when Pulrin was alive," he guffawed yet again. "How does it feel like when my victory is so close? The Queen is sure to have your head!"

Elred growled. "Continue talking and your head will fly off your neck. Just take us to the Queen."

Brutus grinned and spread his hands. "You're in luck. We're here!"

An open, rectangular pavilion loomed ahead. Reeca squinted and saw numerous figures seated on elaborate glass seats. They all looked like Elred with their pale hair color, pale skin, and a general wiry frame. From beside her, Elred cursed about family clans' heads. That must be the royal pavilion.

Two more pavilions flanked the royal one, each consisted of the other nobles from the Upper Cities, some of which Reeca recognized when she helped them evacuate from the plateau. Most of them stared at her and Elred with flat expressions. Talk about gratitude. Just outside these two pavilions stood the people from Rabante in their simple robes, tunics, and trousers. Reeca frowned. Even after a territorial disaster, these people still couldn't shed off their ranks.

A flash of pale yellow hair whipped by Reeca's periphery. She stopped as her eyes followed its probable direction. Cirasa?

"Move!" Brutus shoved Reeca's shoulders. The glare she gave the shard fairy was sure to have made him wet his trousers. She rolled her shoulders and continued the procession.

A hushed silence swept into the crowd as they noticed Elred walking alongside Reeca. Eyes raked at their forms. Whispers drowned the wind blowing through the gathering. Elred's eyes flicked here and there, no doubt searching for her husband and son. Reeca scanned the crowd and didn't find them. So...where were they?

Within a few minutes, they came in front of the royal pavilion. A quick strike to the back of her knees and Reeca's legs crumpled underneath her. She didn't stop the yelp that escaped her lips as she splayed her palms out to catch her fall. A few snickers reached her ears from the royal clan. She gritted her teeth.

The Queen on Helinfirth stared down at Reeca from her place in the middle of the assembled fairies in the pavilion. Her husband, the King, sat stone-faced beside her. Reeca met the Queen's scarlet eyes. It was the same immaculate face, the same wrinkle, and even the same gown.

The cuff around Reeca's neck disappeared when Brutus recalled it to himself along with the film of shards covering her mouth. Reeca's hand rubbed her sore skin in both sites. Brutus stepped back and joined his cohort of robed workers gathered in Reeca's left.

Was all of Helinfirth here?

"Elred Valkalin," the Queen of Helinfirth started. Her voice rang clear and loud enough to be heard by the last person in the other two pavilions. "Are you ready to hear about your crimes?"

"Highness, if I may," Reeca raised a finger despite the gasp of protest from both the royal clan and the Upper Cities nobles. "Will I be sentenced too?"

"RIkavien Torlin," the Queen, Anahel, turned towards Reeca with a flat stare. "I contacted your father and it seems you have outstanding crimes of your own," she laid her hands atop her lap with enough grace as if she wasn't talking about punishing people. "You will serve whatever sentence you acquire here in Helinfirth and then we will pass you to Arcole to receive your father's verdict."

Reeca's gut swirled. After a long time, her father still found a way to haunt her. Anahel turned away from Reeca and trained her eyes on Elred, her daughter.

"Elred, I hate that we've boiled down to this," the Queen blew a breath and shook her head. "I wish I could have reined you in earlier."

Elred scoffed. "Yeah, wish away."

Another gasp rang in the crowd. Reeca rolled her eyes. Gasping was such a trivial reaction. She needed another type of response if she was to survive level-headed in this trial. Meanwhile, Anahel was unfazed by Elred's comment. Was that how used the Queen was of Elred's tongue?

The Queen hefted a roll of parchment and began rattling off the things scrawled in it. "Disregard of duties, endangerment of territory, destruction of private property, murder, malignancy of authority..." the Queen paused to flick her gaze towards Elred. "You're quite colorful."

Elred snorted. "Are you going to execute me? Get on with it."

"Shameless," Anahel's nostrils flared as she shoved the parchment back into her husband who took it in his hands with knitted eyebrows. "Even in your doom you're still shameless."

"What's new?" came Elred's amused reply.

The Queen drew herself straighter. Her eyes flashed dangerously like that of Crozal's damning rays. "Elred Valkalin of Abshire, Crown Princess of the Royal Family, Bearer of the Abshire Rose, you are hereby stripped of all titles, privileges, and the right to use the family name Valkalin. You are no longer part of the clan. From this day forward, you will live your days nameless."

Zeral, the King and Elred's father, waved the parchment he was holding in the air. "That, and a hundred years in prison," he added.

Elred closed her eyes and bowed her head in deference. Reeca would kill to have that kind of composure in a trial damning her. The last time she was in one, Rhys had destroyed the throne room.

"Lastly, I name Cirasa Valkalin as heir to the Helinfirth crown," the Queen said. Another wave of silence passed along the crowd. From beside Reeca, Elred bristled. Reeca, herself, choked on her own saliva. Cirasa? Cirasa was a Valkalin and an heir to the Helinfirth throne? Was this a dream?

The dirt-covered boy who saw her cry was a prince all along? Gods of Calaris, take her now. To Reeca's horror, the boy who stepped forward was indeed the same boy she met on her mission to evacuate the people of Rabante. An amused grin spread through Reeca's lips. A shard fairy, through and through.

Cirasa dipped his head as he came in front of the Queen and the royal clan. "I refuse," he said. The wind carried his voice loud and clear across the crowd. The crowd from Rabante whispered among themselves, pointing fingers at the prince. Nobles from the other two pavilions started exchanging knowing glances. These people still hadn't forgotten how to do politics, it seemed.

From in front of Reeca, Anahel regarded her son with a stern look. "Why would you refuse such an honor?"

"I'm defective," Cirasa kept his head down as he spoke. Reeca knitted her eyebrows. What did he mean by that? He looked fine. "I keep having these visions that I don't understand. I'm-I'm still searching," he shook his head. "I can't accept this role until I can function like a normal shard fairy and get the answers I'm looking for."

Anahel's face softened. That never happened when she was talking to Elred. Huh, the duality, indeed. "Very well," she nodded and fanned her face with a hand. "You're excused."

Cirasa dipped his head once more before fading into the cluster of shard fairies from Rabante. He cast his eyes towards Reeca and their gazes locked. Even though his expression was inscrutable, just seeing him again sent something fluttering in Reeca's chest.

"Rikavien Torlin of Arcole," Anahel's voice snapped Reeca back into reality. "You are faced with crimes involving aiding criminals and destruction of property. You are sentenced to twenty years in prison. Your father will have to add to your punishments once we drop you off his doorstep."

Reeca cursed, a little louder for her taste. "It's not my fault your daughter came crawling to me for help. I wanted nothing to do with this."

Elred whirled to her with a questioning and betrayed look. Reeca ignored her. When it comes to saving her neck, her own came first. She eyed the Queen. "Your daughter forced my hand," Reeca kept a straight face. "I'm only here because she threatened me. I'm a victim as much as all of you are."

"You liar!" Elred lunged at Reeca but was held back by two burly shard fairies dressed in Rabante's robes. So they do have some soldiers around. "Retract that statement!"

Reeca grinned. She had won. "Are you going to threaten me again?"

Elred's eyes widened but her shoulders slumped. She knew when she had lost. The Queen tucked a strand of pale hair behind her pointy ears. "Throw them both into the caves. The sentence still serves."

Strong arms began hauling Reeca away as she squirmed. "Try to break free and your sentence will add up," the Queen called. Reeca was too far away now to see her expression. Was she smiling? Did regret or sadness dance in Anahel's eyes at least once?

Reeca shook her head. Her boots skidded and made trenches on the freshly upturned soil. The gathering of shard fairies shrank until they're but a dot in the horizon.