Chapter 21: What She Did With It

The court didn't move.

Hundreds of lit eyes were fixed on me, and somewhere above us the black dome of water shifted with the slow weight of the tide.

Soren knelt in front of me with his burned wrists still wrapped around my cuffs.

"Say something," Orlan said gently, from the dais. "Command him, Ms. Marlow. Show the court what you are."

"I'm not going to."

"Then give me the pearl, and I will see that the Moot is lenient."

"No."

"Then the claim stands void, and the sentence stands with it."

He sounded almost sorry.

I looked down at the pickle jar in my chained hands.

The pearl lay inside it on the gray sock, small and white and glowing a little.

It was warm again.

Warm like a pulse.

Whoever holds it can command him.

That was the whole problem, wasn't it.

As long as it's in my hand, nothing he says to me is a choice.

Not even yes.

"Minnie," Soren said, very low. "Whatever you are going to do, I will understand it."

"I know you will."

"If you give it to my uncle..."

"I'm not giving it to your uncle."

I got the lid off with my teeth.

It took three tries, and half the court leaned forward to watch me do it.

I tipped the sock into my palm.

The pearl rolled out and lay in the hollow of my hand, between the rough calluses and the cuff.

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