I measured time in drips of water. A steady plunk, plunk, plunk that part of me hoped might drive me mad so that I could be excused of charges on the basis of insanity. I regretted spending my last vial on fleeing the guards in the street. Not that I knew enough magic to get me out of this cell regardless.

Many, many water drips later, a guard brought me a tray of food. Cold vegetable stew and a hunk of bread that tasted only a couple days stale. I ate slowly, methodically, trying to eat up time with the meal, wondering when I would be called to trial.

It all feels very routine. I giggled, the sound echoing in the tiny chamber and drowning out the water momentarily. Perhaps, I was going insane.

I dozed, counted water drops, imagined I was back at sea, picked at a thread in my shirt, ate another cold, day-old meal and was finally summoned to the Council chamber.

Not much had changed in the seven years since I had last been here. They had replaced the carpet, and there seemed to be several additional wall sconces. But the hard-backed wooden pews were the same, as was the raised dais on which the five Council members sat in comfortable wing-backed chairs behind a stone table. I was marched into the little wooden pen constructed in the center of the floor that faced the Council. The guards shackled my hands to an iron ring and I tried to remain still as the cuffs chaffed against my raw skin.

There was no audience save for the guard that remained once the heavy doors behind me were closed. The resounding boom took a few seconds to fade and I used it to study the five people before me. The Council was made up of one representative from each of the three governing families, a representative from the Merchant's Guild, and a representative of the City Guard. I recognized the wizened matriarch of the family of First Manor. Grishelda. She had been present at my last sentencing and was the only one who suggested a death sentence. Her cold grey eyes found mind and hardened as though we were sharing the same thought.

The rest were strangers. There was a portly man with a large mustache from the family of Second Manor; a middle-aged woman with a severe jawline and heavy khol lining her eyes from the Merchant's Guild; a stone statue of a human being with knuckles the size of my wrist from the City Guard; and finally, a handsome, utterly bored-looking younger man from the family of Third Manor. He was the only one I scrutinized closely.

He was slumped in his chair, looking off into the distance as though this was the last place he wanted to be. Was his wife or his mother the Lady of Third Manor? His age made it difficult to be sure. Did he know how desperately she wanted to speak with me? Had she whispered instructions in his ear about how to potentially sway this trial?

My pulse fluttered like a bird in my chest. His presence made me more nervous. Had this just been a regular trial, I would be facing the same sentence. Banishment was not ideal, but it would not be the devastating blow it had been last time. This time, I had no intention of serving my sentence at sea. I would make my escape as soon as I could and reenter the city disguised only long enough to find Franc and flee. But with the shadow of the Lady of Third Manor hanging over my head, my immediate future was murkier than a puddle behind a tavern.

The boom of the door had finally folded back into the silence of the chamber and I took a deep breath. The Lady of First Manor picked up a piece of paper and began to speak in her nasally, creaking voice. It scratched down my spine just as it had last time and the chains around my wrists clinked as I shivered.

"This trial is now in session. The accused, Fayore Dumont, stands before us charged with the use of forbidden magic. Miss Dumont was previously found guilty of the same misdemeanor seven years ago and, as I understand it, has just returned from completing her sentence." She set down her paper and cleared her throat in a manner that suggested she was gargling rocks. "Tell me, child, do you not understand the laws of this island? Or do you think yourself above them?"

"Neither," I began.

She slapped her mottled hand on the table to cut off my words. "You were not given leave to speak," she snapped.

I bit my tongue and hoped my glare said everything I could not.

"We have heard the guard's account of the incident," she continued as though I had not spoken. I tasted blood in my mouth. I should have been present for the guard's testimony per the law, so that I could have the opportunity to refute his words. This trial was a farce.

"According to him, Ms. Dumont resisted arrest and then performed illegal magic to aid in her attempt to flee. She was apprehended at the dockyard. We will now hear Ms. Dumont's account before deciding on a sentence."

I felt the curse rising in my throat and swallowed it hard like bile. Deciding on a sentence my thoughts echoed in a scoff. They had already decided there would be a sentence to deliver; the only question was how long it would be this time.

Five pairs of eyes turned toward me expectantly, even the man representing Third Manor. He had straightened in his chair and was looking keenly down at me, his interest sparked.

I moved my gaze back to Grishelda. "Am I permitted to speak now?" I asked.

She narrowed her eyes and gave such a sharp jerk of her head I feared her obvious wig would fall off.

"I returned to the city yesterday evening after completing my sentence. I intended to remain only long enough to locate a friend of mine. However, I was accosted in the street soon after I came ashore, by three men who said the Lady of Third Manor wished to speak with me." I watched the man at the end of the table as the words met his ears, but his gaze did not falter. If anything, it only seemed more intense. I paused a moment to see if my words would have an affect on anyone else, but Grishelda motioned for me to continue. Odd, I thought. They either did not care or believed me to be lying.

"I evaded the men –"

"Using more witchcraft," interjected Grishelda.

I ground my teeth, my chains clinking as I shifted my weight to my other leg. "I evaded the men," I continued, "and made my way to the street where my friend and I used to live. I intended to ask after her, but was stopped by a guard by the name of Niam who asked me to accompany him to a meeting with the Lady of Third Manor." Again, nothing but silence as they all waited for me to continue.

"Niam told me that accompanying him was voluntary and that I was not under arrest," I held each of their gazes for a heartbeat. "He lied. I was met with a full line of guards who informed me that I was under arrest. I did attempt to run. I did use magic, but not against anyone. It was not used with intent to harm."

Grishelda held out her hands. "She condemns herself. With her own words, she tells us that she used magic, which is expressly forbidden. This is twice now this girl has used a dangerous force in this city with little regard for its consequences. I believe that makes our sentence quite clear."

I ignored her and once again locked eyes with the man. "Why does the Lady of your Manor wish to speak with me, sir?" I asked. "What does she want of me? I only ran because I was afraid. Why did she send those men after me?"

This time both of Grishelda's hands came down on the table top and I jumped, chains clanking.

"You are not the one asking questions here," she snapped, spittle flecking the table.

"I have a right to know!" I argued.

"You have no rights. You are a miscreant. You—"

"What kind of magic was it?" asked the man, cutting smoothly across what was likely to be long-winded rant.

"Ex-excuse me?" I asked, not quite sure I had heard right. Of all the questions to ask, of all the questions floating in the air like dust motes, why ask that one?

"What kind of magic did you perform?" he asked again. The other four Council members turned to look at him and he gave them a bemused smile. "Magic practitioners have been gone from this island for more than two hundred years," he explained. "Her ability is rare and so little studied. We speak of sentencing her when we could be learning from her."

"We speak of sentencing her because she is a danger," snapped Grishelda.

"There is more than one reason why the Bluebloods disappeared," pointed out the man from Second Manor. "And twice as many reasons why magic as a whole was outlawed."

The man shrugged, unconcerned. "Seems to be a wasted opportunity."

Grishelda's jaw worked for a moment as she stared down the man, waiting to see if he would say anything more. But he merely settled back in his seat and continued to appraise me with a thoughtful look on his face.

"Well then," Grishelda said, pulling the reins of the conversation back into her control. "I believe we've heard enough. This girl either has no control over her ability or little regard for those it might hurt. She is a danger to this city, to its people, and its peace. Her previous sentence appears to have made no impact on her and a second one will likely have the same result. She cannot be allowed to walk among civilians again. All in favor for a life sentence?"

My mouth dropped open. A life sentence? My thoughts scattered like marbles on cobblestone and my throat went dry as sawdust. I couldn't get the words out to object as four of the five Council members raised their hands. Only the man from Third Manor kept his hand resting on the table, but it mattered not. Majority ruled here.

I was going to rot beneath the city I had tried so hard to come back to.