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Ruskin’s voice rumbles across the circle, seeming to come more from his chest than his mouth. “That is inevitable, Turis.” His yellow eyes flash with triumph. “Your allies have been defeated, and you cannot beat me alone. So your choice is simple: would you rather die by my claws or your king’s?”

His words have a stronger effect than I expect. Turis’s face slackens, a strange calm taking over his features, and he slowly lays his sword on the ground. I gape at the sudden reversal, then it hits me. Even now, when his life is on the line, blood status matters to Turis above all else. If he has a choice, he doesn’t want the indignity of being killed by a half-blood mutt. Yet the act of surrender all but admits his guilt, and I feel the tension in the court ratchet up a notch as King Lisinder rises, waving away the wards around the circle.

“The challenge is concluded. Ruskin Dawnsong is the victor, and he is granted the right to an answer from the accused. But first, as per the rules of the King’s Justice, the marks of your challenge will be removed.”

“Why’s that?” I whisper to Jasand as Lisinder beckons forward a pair of healers I recognize from the day of the battle. “I thought the Unseelie liked to keep their battle scars.”

“This wasn’t a battle,” he says grimly. “The point of the King’s Justice is to bring serious conflicts to rest. Once it’s done, it’s done. It defeats the point to have reminders of it roaming the court for everyone to see.”

The healers make swift work of patching up each of the challengers. Hartflood is in the worst shape, the gash in his side bleeding profusely when he returns to his fae form, but the healers soon wipe it away. I’m glad to see Ruskin’s burn is also attended to, until each fae looks as if the fight had never occurred.

I’m both eager and worried about what comes next, as the fae line up in front of Lisinder. Climent looks terrified—Hartflood and Clearglen defeated—but Turis…he alone stares up at his monarch unblinkingly, his arrogance untouched by his defeat.

“Now you must answer to the crimes of which you are accused,” Lisinder says coldly. “Who among you conspired to bring Ruskin Dawnsong into disrepute, by enchanting him with a moon orb?”

“I did,” Lady Clearglen answers, her voice almost too quiet to hear. The others follow suit, echoing her words. This is the least egregious of the charges, and the court makes little noise as the group admit their crime.

“Who among you attempted to sabotage Ruskin Dawnsong at the battle at Cavalil, hoping it would result in his death?” Lisinder asks, his voice harder than before.

“I did,” answer Hartflood, Climent, and Turis. The latter’s response rings out across the cavern, confident and assured. My skin prickles unpleasantly at the sound.

Lisinder’s posture stiffens as he refers to the final charge. “And who among you conspired to murder my brother, Prince Lucan Hawkstooth?”

There is a pause, then Turis alone speaks up.

“I did.”

There are several shouts from the gathered court, and Lisinder’s hands tighten into a fist. He takes a few swift steps closer to Turis, like he might lash out at him that very second. The moment passes, and he composes himself, though it takes the court much longer to settle.

“And were the rest of you aware of this fact?” Lisinder demands of the others, once his voice can be heard over the crowd.

“We were,” they say.

As much as I want justice for Ruskin, each admission is almost painful to hear. Climent and Hartflood sound afraid, but Turis and Clearglen seem more righteously angry. None have even a hint of regret in their words. I look to Ruskin. He’s wearing his stoic mask well, but I can imagine this must be equal parts satisfying and infuriating to hear.

“You know the punishment for these crimes,” Lisinder says. The same rage burns in his voice that was present when Evanthe murdered Pyromey. “I will not waste my words preparing traitors of this court for death.”

Climent releases a sob, which Clearglen angrily hushes. Then the court is, for once, absolutely silent—so much so that when Lisinder steps up to Hartflood, I can hear the swishing sound the king’s claws make as they swing through the air.

Hartflood’s body quivers, and then drops. Just like that, he has been executed.

Without a word Lisinder steps to the side, raising his claws once above Clearglen’s head. She lifts her chin defiantly, and seconds later hits the ground with a dull thud.

Climent doesn’t wait for Lisinder to step up to him before he starts begging for mercy, his face streaked with tears. Lisinder just raises his claws and in a moment there is only one fae remaining in the line.

I have a clear view of Turis’s face as Lisinder approaches him. The silver-haired fae opens his mouth and begins to talk. Lisinder hasn’t given any of them the privilege of final words, but he speaks quickly, raising his voice for everyone to hear.

“All my life, I sought to keep my court from the poison of the Seelie. I worked tirelessly, so that the Unseelie Kingdom could flourish despite the cursed deal our king had made with the enemy’s queen. I saved Lucan from a worse fate than death. When these parasites ruin your kingdom, remember me, and how I fought to stop it.”

As Lisinder’s claws fall for a final time, all I can focus on is the look on Turis’s face. There is not a hint of doubt there. Instead, he looks proud—utterly convinced of his own righteousness.

Blood drips an uneven rhythm from Lisinder’s claws. The king stares down at his slain subjects with an expression that’s hard to read, then he draws a white handkerchief from his pocket and slowly wipes his hands clean, blotting the pale linen with scarlet. The court watches, quiet, until their ruler turns to Ruskin. The pair exchange a look, and I think they’re both realizing that they’ve shared this moment of revenge together, and yet it will still never make up for the loss of Lucan.

“Turis did not protect this court,” Lisinder says, looking away from Ruskin to address the rest of us. He speaks quietly at first, but his words grow in volume as he goes on. “He weakened it. We Unseelie address our problems head on, face to face. Turis worked in the shadows, and that is because he knew that he sought what he wanted, rather than what was best for us all. It is alliances, not murder and deception, that help keep us safe. Today I am happy to say that I am an ally of my nephew, the true ruler of the Seelie Court, and I will support him against the usurper Evanthe, when he needs it.”

There are cheers of agreement from the crowd, loudest from Elias and Wistal. While not everyone joins in, there are no violent objections to Lisinder’s words. Ruskin bows to Lisinder, who bows in turn, acknowledging Ruskin’s status, and I feel a surge of hope. This is more than we expected from the challenge.

“Why do you think he changed his mind?” I murmur to Destan.