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“Master Ignatius, what is your ruling?” my nemesis, Magister Tiberius Steele, asked.

Smug bastard. Oh, how I’d love to carve the triumph off the conniving jackal’s face.

“Guilty,” the High Court justice replied from the raised dais.

Despite my portrayal of cool indifference, rage seared my insides. To think I’d served this realm and all its supernatural inhabitants for the entirety of my long life. Ungrateful pricks. All of them. The entire underworld deserved what Tiberius had in store for them.

“Master Crenshaw, what is your ruling?”

“Guilty.”

Those furious embers flared brighter.

Few gathered knew Tiberius’s true agenda. For a while now, he’d led a hidden life, working behind the Council’s backs to eliminate the ruling party and claim control for himself.

It was too bad I hadn’t thought of it first.

Sadly, Tiberius would succeed, partly due to my failings. I’d become complacent in my role as clan leader. Grown too comfortable playing diplomat, sending others to do my bidding. It was my downfall.

“Master Rumsfeld, what is your ruling?”

“Guilty.”

Again, the fury flared, scorching my chest.

Oh, yes. I was guilty. Guilty of so many crimes the Council knew nothing about. Because they had preferred to ignore my little indiscretions. They didn’t carehowI accomplished a job, only that I succeeded. Hungry to further my political position, I complied. But not without compensation. Every backstabbing male in this court owed me a favor. Favors, apparently, I wouldn’t be around to collect.

“Master Reynolds, what is your ruling?”

“Guilty.”

My throat squeezed, a roar pushing up from my burning chest.

I was the dirty little secret they all kept in a shoebox at the back of their closets. I knew the secrets of every leader of the High Court. Secrets I, at times, exploited as was my due. In destroying me, they covered their own asses. Or so they believed.

Tiberius was about to turn this realm on its head. The pathetic fools couldn’t see what was right under their noses.

Finally, the last guilty ruling was counted.

Magister Tiberius strolled to the boundary of the containment field, a satisfied glint in his eyes. “Victor Custodis, the High Court has rendered its judgment. You are hereby found guilty of your crimes against the Council.”

The verdict came as no surprise. Tiberius had fabricated enough evidence to bury me. It was laughable to be sentenced over crimes I hadn’t committed when there had been so many I’d covered up over the years.

“The sentence for these crimes is,” he paused, lips curling into a smug smile, “banishment. You will be cast into the prison realm, never to return.”

Never to return.

An ancient image of my mother flashed through my mind—so old it had blurred and splintered with age. Still, I remembered. I’d made a similar promise to her when she sent me to this mortal world as a child. Thanks to Tiberius, I was about to break that promise. For the first time in centuries, I would set foot in the realm of my birth. To a place that had battered, abused, and rejected me. To a place I loathed even more than Tiberius.

To a shit-hole kingdom in a neighboring realm. The fools believed it was only a dumping ground for our criminals. Few were still alive to remember it was, in truth, the land of our origins.

“Due to the serious nature of these crimes, this sentence will be carried out without delay.”

Of course it would. Tiberius couldn’t risk me leaking his secrets. I wasn’t the first to fall during this witch hunt. Nor would I be the last. He was eliminating anyone who might pose a threat to his plans. I was most definitely a threat.

Tiberius glanced over his shoulder. The head of the High Court sat on the raised dais along with his brethren. “Lord Kaius, please release the prisoner.”

Four guards surrounded me on all sides. Blue energy crackled at the ends of their submission rods. The scent of ozone was thick in the air. Kaius twisted the ring on his bony finger, and the containment field dropped to the floor.