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“Two,” the guard says.

The two witnesses are brought forward, both human judging from their rounded ears. Each in turn attests to the fact that they caught the servant out on the palace grounds playing hide the salami with a soldier.

In the middle of the second testimony, the human girl begins to silently sob.

I shift on my feet. This whole situation feels wrong to me. This woman is on trial because she did exactly what Des and I have been doing.

Next to me, Malaki clears his throat uncomfortably.

He too is guilty of what this woman’s on trial for.

“Do you have any words to say in your defense?” Mara asks the human woman once the witnesses leave.

“Please,” she says, her voice roughened with tears, “he grabbed me. I tried to push him away, but he overpowered me…”

Oh God.

My blood runs cold. I feel my nausea rise, my stomach twisting sickly at the woman’s words.

This doesn’t sound like some illicit tryst in the woods. This sounds like rape. And now this woman is getting punished for it.

“Where is this man?” Mara asks.

The bone-deep sickness that consumed me a moment ago is transforming into something hot and uncomfortable.

Do something.

“He’s on his way,” the guard says.

“Very well.” Mara rearranges her skirts. “Give the slave twenty lashings, and if she conceives, abort the offspring.”

“No.”

I don’t realize I’ve spoken until all the occupants of the throne room are staring at me.

Shit, all right, I’m doing this.

“I beg your pardon?” Mara looks half-skeptical, half-amused.

“No one is hurting this woman,” I say, stepping forward.

My power builds beneath my skin. My body doesn’t illuminate, but I feel my magic right there. I didn’t go through hell just to watch something like this happen to another woman.

Mara’s eyes flick to Malaki. “General,” she says, “handle your king’s mate.”

My hands fist, the siren stirring restlessly. She’s not even addressing me, like I’m beneath her notice.

The room’s attention swivels from me to Malaki.

He folds his arms across his chest. “No.”

A ripple of whispers rises from the crowd.

My gaze finds Malaki’s, and I find it hard to breathe. Des’s oldest friend is putting himself on the line for me.

Mara raises an eyebrow. Turning from both of us, she announces to her men, “Proceed with the punishment as planned. Bring the headsman out.”

A fairy peels away from the wings of the room, approaching the dais with a whip in hand.