In the bustling streets of Arcas, the crowds moved like bees through the cobblestone pathways. Streamers and banners were being hung up, and the vendors were hastily setting up stands on the sidewalks. In a little under a month’s time, there would be a feast; the Festival of Three Moons, when all three of Vostea’s moons would be full. It was the last time it would happen this year, which was warranted more music, more dancing, and more food. But despite all the excitement in the air, there were a few that sat on the edge of their seats.

“You’re doing it again, Briar,” the prince scolded as he grabbed the hand that had been absentmindedly scratching away at her bandages. She blinked up at him with wide soft blue eyes, before a pink tint came up to her fair freckled cheeks,

“Sorry,” she mumbled as forced her hand to her side. Ever since the end of the war a month ago, Prince Galian had been hovering over her like a nervous hummingbird. She couldn’t leave the academy dorms without a cadre of guards to shadow her every move. She was insistent that she didn’t need them; she had been through a good number of battles without much help, and it was only the most recent one that led her to be injured in such a manner.

Suddenly the door was almost thrown from its hinges, revealing a disheveled young man with pastel blue locks falling carelessly over his forehead. He held several scrolls and books in his arms, his satchel overflowing with more loose paper and notes.

“Sorry, I’m late! There was a hold up at the Royal Archives - did I miss anything?” Winston Everard pushed his almost-too-big glasses up his face, almost tripping over his violet robes as he struggled to keep from dropping anything on the floor.

“Well, judging by the fact that the Charm’s not even on, I think you’re good.” Another boy walked into the room, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Wulfsige ran a tan hand through his fiery red hair with his other hand readjusting the belt that held his sword. Even when he had been ordered to take the day off (by the Crown Prince, no less), he still had some form of armor on.

“Don’t be so harsh, Wulfsige. Not everyone is as astute an observer as you; I’m sure the Orthrus Incident can attest to that.” The next young man to enter the room was tall and lean, with a lackadaisical smile hanging from his lips. Gemini’s green eyes crinkled up with amusement as Wulfsige sent him a harsh glare.

“It’s not my fault that the cultists were hiding him until the last moment.”

“No, but it is your fault that you didn’t bother checking to see if they were completely unarmed.”

“Please don’t start arguing, I’ve already got a bad headache.” Briar was no stranger to the little spats Gemini and Wulfsige tended to get into, having the misfortune to be dragged in a few of them.

“I’m not arguing. I’m just speaking my mind.” Gemini shrugged her off, wavy blond locks falling across his copper forehead.

“And banshees don’t scream.” Wulfsige rolled his eyes. The Crown Prince held up a hand, palms facing outward with two fingers crossed and the other three closed in a half fist. This was the sign of the Imperial family only used when they had grown tired of hearing people speak. Smartly the two quarreling barely-adults shut up and separated, but they still sent each other the occasional glare from across the room.

A few minutes later, another young man walked in the room, the last guest of the day, this one bearing icy blue eyes and curly raven hair, pulled back into a tight bun. He gave a short bow in the prince’s direction and then saluted Briar before taking a seat by the low set table in the middle of the room.

“You do know we aren’t in at the ball, right? You can afford to let your hair down for a few minutes. Or are you Lord Johannes all the time?” Gemini said to the newcomer.

“He’s the Crown Prince. It’s against etiquette to not acknowledge his presence when I walked in.” His shoulders were set in a tense position, and his back was ramrod straight. Johannes didn’t even allow himself to sit all the way back in his chair; there was simply no room to relax in the presence of royalty.

Winston stood from his seat and quickly strode to the Charm, flicking on a few buttons and messing with the dials before a clear voice drifted through the horn.

"The date is Firedawn, 5th of Regnausa, Year 433. The following court session is an arraignment for the defendant, Protea Fynderne of Frostenden.” Immediately, Briar’s heartbeat began to quicken. She was compelled to begin scratching at her bandages again for the little bit of comfort the gesture provided, but the prince laid his hand over hers.

“The indictment reads as follows: ’The Royal Jury charges, Count One, Attempt to Assassinate the Blessed Maiden of Humanity. On the fourth day of the Emperor’s Tourney, which took place on the 22nd of Wolvsigas, Year 432, the defendant knowingly used a lethal spell in an attempt to kill the Blessed Maiden of Humanity, as defined in the 16 Imperial Code 4536(a)." A scowl came to Wulfsige’s lips and his amber eyes burned with simmering fury as he listened to the audio. On his chest, a scar peeked out from the collar of his shirt - a reminder of the impulsive sacrifice he had nearly made for Briar that day.

"Count Two, Attempt to Undermine the Established Line of Succession. On the 8th of Aluvi, Year 433, the defendant conspired with Prince Lorcan Kilfold to assist him in a plan to take the title of Crown Prince for himself." Up until now, the prince had been talking with Briar, whispering little jokes in her ear to wipe the anxious look from her face, but now the tables had been turned. Galian gripped her hand tightly and his shoulders drew up tightly, but his face still held the same tiny smile he’d had for the past few minutes.

"Count Three, Violation of Imperial Law by Accessing Prohibited Information. On the 8th Atunia year 433, the defendant was apprehended with several classified documents in her possession, some of which contained classified information pertaining to the Empire of Draentis and its military, as defined in 2 Imperial Code 1253(a)." Gemini’s chest seemed to swell with pride as he leaned back in his seat. There was a satisfied grin on his face as he closed his eyes, appearing to relish the speaker’s words and the memory that came with them.

"Count Four, Attempt to Blackmail via Threat of Physical Harm. On the 18th of Usinar, Year 433, the defendant reportedly threatened an imperial scholar to obtain access to private research, as defined in 12 Imperial Code 3452(b)." Winston shifted uncomfortably in his seat upon hearing this. He pulled at his collar in an attempt to relieve some tension but it didn’t seem to do much good.

"Count Five, Harassment of a Public Figure through Physical and Emotional Means. On the dates of the 8th of Esanur 430, 2nd of Wolvsigas Year 431, 23r of Regnausa Year 432, the defendant was reported harassing Lord Johannes of Frostenden, using manipulation and threats to disturb the victim’s peace." Johannes didn’t seem to have any particular reaction to the charge; he just stared at the Charm with the stonily impassive look on his face. But if one paid attention they could see his fingers curl up in his lap ever so slightly, and his lips quirked in the faintest of manners. It was hard to tell what any of this meant, however.

"Mr. Herridge," the speaker said. ”have you discussed all the charges set forth with your client?" There was a collective deep breath, whether involuntary or voluntary. Briar was almost on the edge of her seat, gripping her royal blue skirt with peachy fingers that had gone pale at the knuckles.

"I have." Another voice came through the machine’s horn, this one more quiet and crackly. "My client has decided to plead nolo contendere to all charges." Even the machine seemed to be stunned at this statement, with the audio suddenly breaking up. Winston jumped up and hurried over to the Charm, fiddling with the dials and buttons again to coax the sound back out.

"Nolo contendere? What does that mean?” Briar looked up at the prince with doe-like eyes, her eyebrows furrowed deeply above them.

“It means she’s accepting punishment for the charges. It seems all my hard work has come to fruition.” Gemini sat back in his seat with a shrug. For a moment it seemed he wanted to pat himself on the back, but Wulfsige was quick to burst the triumphant bubble he had created.

“Oh, please, you hardly did anything. Pleading no contest just means she doesn’t admit to being guilty.”

“I don’t understand. If she’s still being punished, then what’s the big deal?” Briar asked.

Winston already had an explanation at the ready. “In the Empire, a nolo contendere plea means that we can’t bring any more charges against her that relate to the case. Furthermore, if she decides to ask for a release, that she’ll essentially become an outlaw. If that happens, legally no one can punish her, but she won’t be protected by the law either.”

“Well, what did you expect? She is a Fynderne, after all. They aren’t known for conceding defeat easily. No offense, Johannes.” Gemini quickly added. Johannes remained as icy as ever.

“But the Emperor just said she can’t contact anyone on the mainland.” Briar pointed out.

“There are exceptions to the rule,” Winston continued. “She’ll have a warden with her to make sure she can serve out her sentence. She’ll be able to appeal through the jailor if she wants.”

“Like that’s ever gonna happen. After the shitstorm she cooked up, there’s no way an appeal’s gonna work.” Briar sent a scolding glance at Wulfsige, which he responded to with a flippant shrug. “You know I’m right.”

“And even if she does try to appeal,” Galian jumped in to reassure the Maiden of Light. “I’ll see to it that she never sets foot anywhere the Empire of Draentis ever again.” He finished with a dazzling smile.

“So she’s gone for good?” There was a hopeful tone to Briar’s question.

“Positive. Protea will never harm you again.” Briar finally relaxed in her seat, her wavy strawberry locks flopping back over the headrest. Finally, the nightmare was over; no more having her books slapped from her hands, no more being followed by her lackeys all day, and most of all, no more Protea.

“So... what now?” Wulfsige interrupted the moment.

“Now? Well, the Festival of Three Moons is only a month away.” Winston chimed.

“He’s right. You’ll be expected to make an appearance as the Vessel of Aluvi Herself. Hopefully, the bandages will be off by then.” Galian said the last part under his breath.

“I thought the Festival was being set up by the Followers of Usyn. I mean the moons are Usyn’s children.”

“True,” Winston said, “but Aluvi is the Queen of All Gods. She has to make an appearance everywhere because she gave every other god their duties. Since you’re the Maiden of Light, and the gods can’t appear for every event, you have to stand in for Aluvi.”

“So I have to go to more events like this?”

“I’m afraid so,” Galian said with a sympathetic look.

Gemini waved a hand dismissively. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much, Little Rose. With a face like that, you’ll have nothing to worry about.” He winked at her despite the sideways glare the prince leveled at him.

A tint rose to her cheeks as he spoke and she turned to the window to hide it. As she looked over the bustling streets of Arcas there was a small prickle at the back of her neck. She doubted that it was a warning from the goddess - she could only consult her when she was on holy land - but her intuition didn’t seem to think it was over.

For some reason, Briar had the fleeting feeling that she hadn’t seen the last of Protea.