Arinel was told that Dineira's trial would open Lady Jaise's court today. From her seat on the plaintiff's pew, which ran parallel to the long side of the hall, her eyes swept over the court as she awaited the arrival of her nemesis.

To her left, at the back of the hall, Lady Jaise sat ramrod straight on her highbacked wooden chair, her lips a grim line under her half-mask of black glass. Her freefalling hair was shrouded under a black lace veil trailing from her toque. A shimmering robe of purple-black silk cascaded down her shoulders　and overflowed from her armrests to the floor. She was flanked by six jurors to each side, all masked and draped in black.

On another pew before the opposite wall, sat the alchemist Diamat Sameri and his wife, a plump woman whose fidgeting tendency further likened her to her daughter.

As his wife huddled against his arm and grasped his hand for further reassurance, Diamat's shrouded eyes stared at Arinel across the room. Though she could not see his countenance, he seemed to be more fearful and confused rather than hostile, and Arinel suspected Winterwen had not told them the reason they were here.

At long last, from the crowd of shadows flitting pass the entrance, one reached its way towards the depths of the hall. Predictably, at the end of the shadow was Dineira Sameri.

Being an alchemist, Dineira was no doubt called to court on occasion to provide insight on cases; she breezed down the hall as if stepping into old footprints worn into the stone. However, her brisk gait stalled when she spotted her parents on the bench normally occupied by relatives of the accused. Her gaze lingered on them as she mouthed wordlessly, then she lurched to a halt just short of the lone chair-and-table set at the center of the room.

Dineira gawked at the chair, gripped by its ominous emptiness. Slowly, she raised her gaze to Lady Jaise, offering a shaky smile as she inquired hopefully,

"My Lady, y-you've summoned me for my opinion on a case?"

"No, Dineira. Today, you are here to testify on your own behalf."

Winterwen rebuffed without pause. Her melodic voice was calm and pleasant. Yet, there was a weight to it that Arinel had not felt before; an icy front masking a heavy heart. As Dineira shuddered, she raised her decorated hand and indicated the empty chair.

"Have a seat. We'd be here for some time."

Dineira shot the chair a swift glance, then hitched up a weak simper.

"Oh. I-I-I'd rather stand." She stammered. Her feeble attempt at a laugh trailed off to a pathetic end in her throat as she ebbed away from the chair. She clutched her cloak close to her sides, as if she feared she would be cursed should a single hem caress the seat which had condemned countless men.

Winterwen's tight smile stretched tauter.

"If you insist." She accepted, her voice toneless, then turned to the clerk,

"Bring out the evidence."

Dineira jolted as if stung by a scorpion. Her gaze followed the clerk as he made his way around the row of jurors. He laid the wooden tray he carried on the table before her. Dineira hobbled forth to read the heading of the papers in the tray, then staggered back, scrabbling at the chair to keep herself on her feet.

"This treatise was written by the late alchemist Lucis Tyberne and his maid, Erina Chatrise." Winterwen's resounding voice drowned out the echoes of Dineira's frantic panting. Arinel clenched her fists as the surreal spectacle unfolded before her, anticipating yet dreading the outcome. "It should have been destroyed in the fire that killed them seventeen years ago. Can you explain how it came to be in your lab?"

Dineira didn't seem to have registered. She stared transfixed at the unearthed treatise, one hand gouging at the chest of her alchemist's robe.

"H—How?" She gasped out in between bouts of hyperventilating, glancing wildly around the hall, "Who? How in the—"

She broke off as she caught sight of movement in the audience; Arinel had stood up. As Dineira ogled in confusion, she slid her mask off her face.

Dineira's shriek rented through the ringing silence. She scrambled back, tripping over her cloak and landing on her behind on the flagstones.

"Erina—" She breathed, overcome by impulse, then shook her head sharply as logic snapped back in, "—No. Oh no. Oh Freda."

Her prayer dissolved into a wailing sob. Her hands flew to cover her face as tears dripped from under her mask. Arinel dragged her leaden feet one in front of the other. She was numb, winded, as if walloped in the middle by a battering ram; despite her blue Crosset eyes and her snowy Icemeet skin, she still resembled Mother.

"You asked Sir Bayne if Arinel takes after her mother." She forced her strangled voice through teeth gritted against grief, as her trembling lips twisted into a bitter smile,

"I hope you still remember her face. Because I've never seen it, thanks to you."

Dineira flinched back, then fell on her face, cowering at Arinel's feet.

"I didn't mean it. I didn't. I really didn't." She sobbed. Arinel snatched her foot away on instinct when she reached out with trembling hands, "Mercy. Please. Have mercy..."

"Dineira. What have you done?" Diamat's call, hoarse with disbelief, rang from across the room. He shook his head slowly as Dineira tensed and trembled, "You took their work for yourself and murdered them?"

"No!" Dineira surfaced with a strident scream, scattering tears as she threw her head from side to side, then pressed her forehead against the flagstones, "Not murder them. I never meant to. Please. Mercy!"

After that piercing wail, Dineira flattened herself to the floor. Arinel found her hands trembling, and so dug her fingernails into the fabric of her dress; she felt she might gouge into Dineira's neck otherwise.

"Your testimony shall decide your sentence." Lady Jaise's cool voice echoed across the hall, interrupting their confrontation. Arinel whipped around as Dineira gave a jolt, "Tell us what happened."

Arinel returned her focus to the whimpering, piteous puddle of black before her, along with the rest of the room. For what must have been a minute, Dineira simply lay trembling as they patiently waited. At long last, she heaved up her head, her nose an inch from the tiles, her voice nasal and whispery.

"Research on anesthesia and surgery are banned. We had to carry out experiments after sundown."

Apart from Dineira's dead voice, the silence in the court was absolute. Arinel had to calm her breathing so as not to disturb it.

"We couldn't find test subjects. Erina was pregnant. Dad would never allow me to volunteer. So, that night, Tyberne administered the anesthesia to himself."

"I was in charge of holding the mask—the usual brainless work." Dineira spat, betraying her lingering bitterness, "While Erina recorded Tyberne's condition."

"Our apparatuses were made entirely of glass. Except for the hose connecting the mask to the glass globe holding the anesthesia. Those were parts I designed and molded from Jaise Gum specifically for this experiment."

Arinel raised an impatient eyebrow at that seemingly useless segue, only to understand its importance when Dineira went on;

"Once Tyberne was asleep. I forced the mask on Erina. I was larger than her; she couldn't fight me off—"

A tortured scream from Gretella rented through the air; a manifestation of the fire of hatred and grief roaring inside Arinel. Her fists were clenched so hard they had gone numb. Dineira took no heed; her eyes wide and empty, lost in the flow of memories, she continued in that same lifeless manner,

"After she went under, I snatched her notes and the treatise. Cut a leak in the hose for good measure. Then hightailed it onto a wagon headed for home."

"There were no burning fires—Tyberne didn't even dare light the fireplace. All we had was an oil lamp. There wasn't that much sweet oil left in the globe. The room was well ventilated. They should have been awake in a quarter-hour and remember nothing."

Dineira came back to life then. She shook her head slowly. Tears resumed trickling out the corners of her staring eyes. Her voice rippled with suppressed sobs.

"I've no idea how the fire had broken out. I've only heard the news from Dad once I reached home a fortnight later. I hid the treatise. I didn't know what to do with it. I didn't dare publish it as my own. I didn't even dare read it. I've forgotten it. Almost..."

Gasping for breath, Dineira sank back to the quivering heap she initially was. Meanwhile, it was all Arinel could do to stay on her feet; instead of a peaceful, blessedly ignorant slumber, her mother had died fighting for both their lives, only to sink into a sleep that only Arinel would wake from.

The mere thought was excruciating. Had Mother known what Dineira had meant to do? Did she realize she was going to die? Was she scared? Was she prepared? Or was she just worried about the treatise? Which was worse?

Footsteps echoed in the silence. Arinel turned to find Jerald on his feet. He trusted Gretella, who looked faint, with Agnes, then stepped down the platform towards them.

"The lamp was likely the source of the fire." He said, his voice grave as his hidden gaze zeroed in on Dineira, who had perked up in alarm,

"The yeomen who rescued Erina recounted that they found the lamp's metal frame surrounded by shards of glass, fallen under the table beside her hand."

"After you left, Erina must have slipped from the table and knocked it down with her. And it ignited the vapors from the leaking hose."

Dineira trembled at the harsh revelation. She clutched at her shaking head, blubbering, beseeching,

"I didn't mean to hurt her! Never hurt her!" She moaned, "All I wanted was some fairness. I just wanted to do more than hold stuff or stir stuff or clean stuff for him while she gets to follow him around and discuss theories with him and gets all the credit. But never kill her. No. No!"

She fell forth once more, pummeling her forehead onto the stone.

"Mercy. Mercy!"

Arinel shook her head, trying her utmost to confine the trembling to her fists but it was in vain.

"There's no use asking mercy from me. The law will decide." She spat through gritted teeth, then started at the familiar cool voice from behind.

"No, Lady Arinel. You will."

Lady Jaise interjected. Arinel whirled around, eyes wide in utter confusion behind her mask. Winterwen dipped her head in confirmation, then began,

"In Jaise, for heinous crimes—murder and rape, for instance, we invoke the Right of the Bereft." She enunciated, then explained,

"The court would not weigh in on these cases. We would decide only the highest sentence possible, drawing from precedence. The remaining family members, or the family member designated by the victim in their will—the Bereft, would decide the final sentence."

It was sickening, as if a boulder had walloped her in the middle. So she was to decide the sentence? Up until the trial, Arinel was sure she would be gratified to see Dineira hang for her crimes. Even once she had heard her story, of how it was not meant to be, her resolve had wavered but yet did not crumble. But now that the decision to execute was to be made by herself, why did it repulse and scare her so much? As if it was murder and not justice. Perhaps now that it was her choice to make, rather than the court's, its weight was much heavier to bear...

She was Lady Crosset. She was an alchemist. All she had known was protect and provide and innovate. To give life and support life. Taking lives was not in her nature...

"In this case, Lucis Tyberne has no wife nor children. His parents are also deceased. Thus, you and Madam Gretella are the Bereft for Erina Chatrise."

As Winterwen concluded the shocking revelation, the clerk flitted about collecting the jurors' written verdicts, then swept back to Winterwen's side and served them to her,

"The jury has decided, my Lady."

Winterwen accepted the proffered pile of parchment. Her gaze lingered on Dineira, who jolted at the announcement, then left to peruse the verdicts. After a few minutes which seemed to drag on for eternity, she lowered the papers with a heavy sigh. Dineira had perked up to watch, fearful yet still with one last flicker of hope peeking from the line of her pursed lips. Her mother buried her face into Diamat's arm, sobbing silently, steeling for the worst.

"For two counts of murder, though unintended it may be, the abrupt loss of two lives whose dreams and potential would never be realized, whose absence would forever torture those who remain, the consequences are all too real."

Winterwen gave a foreboding speech, and the Sameris trembled harder. Arinel held her breath as Jerald embraced her. Yet, for once, his fatherly warmth and strength could not penetrate the numb fear enveloping her.

"The highest sentence possible—" The Lady projected her voice to the far reaches of the hall, then declared her verdict,

"—is death by hemlock."

"No...NO! Mercy! Mercy!"

Dineira screeched in despair then fell to a shivering heap before Arinel's rooted feet. A chorus of gasps rang from across the room. Arinel glanced up to find Dineira's mother a limp, dead weight hanging from old Diamat's trembling arms, having plummeted like a gargoyle tipped from its plinth. Muffled sobs blew into her ears from Gretella. She buried her face in Jerald's handkerchief as Agnes rested her head on her shoulder.

Jerald tightened his embrace, and Arinel glanced up to meet his gaze. Yet, instead of vengeful gratification as justice was finally served for his beloved Erina, the knight looked just as conflicted as Arinel herself.

"Lady Arinel," Winterwen called. Arinel broke their gaze and turned numbly back to her,

"You don't have to make the decision now. Take all the time you need." She said, perhaps having predicted her dilemma from long experience. Without waiting for her nod, the Lady turned away and picked up her gavel,

"Court is adjourned."

The sharp rap of wood on wood rented through the silence interspersed only by Dineira's sobs. The jury rose to send off Lady Jaise in a wave of clothes rustling and chairs scraping on stone, then filed out the side door after her. In no time at all, Arinel was the only one left standing there amidst the cries of the condemned and the vindicated.