Mageia paced the cell, nerves bubbling upon every minute that flew by. The cells grew emptier, and her belly grumbled louder with hunger and nerves. Apparently, the king or the Seat of Judges were flushing through the criminals fast and precise. Most likely aiming to wrap cases up before the Royal Luncheon that led to other festivities.

"Holy beloved Dawnis, god of life and death, grant me mercy and relieve me from the clutches of death," she prayed. "Holy beloved Mesori, goddess of fortune, intercede on my behalf and grant fortune on my life." She scrunched her nose sensing those prayers weren't getting anywhere. So, she tried another approach. "Holy Ordained, grant me mercy. Whoever is in the Serene please find favor with me, please give me strength and wisdom in this situation."

She recalled her last ordeal, standing in the grand hall of the Royal Court, hard eyes stared down at her. Her mother, Vale, tried her best to plea their cases and to have Mageia freed. Cruel and heartless, King Thaddeus ignored her mother and accused her of committing and concealing sorcery because of Mageia's purple eyes. Mageia was only nine years old and had lived most of her lifespan in their little house in the Hillside, and in her tower, hidden from people.

I want you to keep a promise for me, her mom would say every night when she put her to bed.

The same promise mama?

The same, she'd say. Promise me, you will keep these things a secret no matter what happens. Your surname and your birthmark until either the gods reveal it first or if we ever reach Ilseda.

The Kingdom of the Elves? Mageia said in astonishment.

Ah-ha, my girl, she said with a nod.

I don't understand why.

You will in time. You must promise me you will keep this promise.

I promise, Mageia said, and her mom would kiss her cheeks and leave her to dream in her tower.

Her mom was strange, but it never destroyed the love they shared nor broke their trust. That is why she knew she mustn't tell the Court anything about herself. Especially having the knowledge that someone in the palace had betrayed and assassinated her stepfather. No matter how much they try to pry it from her mouth, she must trust only herself at this point.

My family needs me alive.

The door at the end of the hall unbolted and the thunder of boots flooded in again. Mageia's mouth went desert dry, and her heart murmured close to faint. They opened the cell door and yanked her out. They shuffled her to the doors leading into the Throne Hall. Clashing of voices could be heard on the other side of the door. She held her breath, hoping she looked presentable enough to stand before royalty. The guards opened the doors and shoved her to keep walking. Citizens, waiting for their time in the spotlight, fell silent.

The muggy smell of sweaty bodies clunked together created a nauseated taste in her mouth and throat. She took a step back, eyes scanning every nook and cranny for a way to escape but saw none. Soldiers were everywhere, and the only pathway led to the throne, for a rope had been risen to keep the crowd at a reasonable distance from the Royals.

The Throne Hall had not changed since the last time she entered through the doors of the Doomed. It still had its high ceilings and windows creviced in shades of white, silver, and green that gave the room a happy appeal. Pillars sculpted in fine sharp designs and paintings of both the realm and the kingdom's history lined the stone walls. Green and silver silky drapes hung everywhere daunting the kingdom's blossoming emerald tree sigil. The gray marbled floor shimmered under the sunlight pouring in from the windows onto everyone even the royal family sitting on a dais of emerald and jasper stones.

On a sunny day as this, there were no need to light the torches, the lanterns, or the glass chandeliers above. And though the Throne Hall was possibly the most beautiful part of the entire palace, it was also the most disturbing. A place where laws and justice were passed and executed, opening the doors to nothing good, but death and heartache to those too afraid to stand up and say so.

A fist pressed into her back to force her to walk. She clenched her fist, glaring at the green carpet worn from constant tread that looked to have never been changed. As she approached the inclined circle of six judges and the throne, their strong colognes drifted into the muggy odor but did nothing to appease it.

Mageia gasped seeing she had the attention of the king himself. A memory quickly flashed before her eyes, seeing the cruel-hearted King Thaddeus scolding her from the highchair. Except this time, his only son, King Dimitri Arlon replaced him. He had the company of his wife, Queen Saia, and his stepdaughter, Princess Relana, all waving exquisite fans to fight the heat and reduce the smell. Annoyance was chiseled into their perfect faces, blessed to them by the Diviines. Exhaustion hung under their eyes, sweat glazing their faces. They looked almost like the fancy glass dolls created and sold in the cities.

It made her grin inside thinking how one crack in their beauty and their glorious strength could be what relieves them of their crown. Just like the late Queen Nari Arlon who met her first fate when the hem of her dress brushed against a chimney and caught on fire. The burn marks could have been hidden if it hadn't reached her neck and face. Heartbroken and terrified that the gods were not pleased with her being Fair, she met her second fate and slit her wrists.

"Purple Thief," King Dimitri Arlon bellowed snapping her back to the situation at hand.

Mageia forced a stern expression at the ruthless bulk of a king who clearly received his height and muscular appearance from his Giant ancestry. This callous man had sat beside his father as he condemned her and her mom to death.

"Have you no respect for the Crown?"

She scolded knowing exactly what he was talking about. She grabbed hold of the sides of her peasant dress and did a quick curtsey. The swiftness of it was immediately interpreted as mockery and aroused muttering in the crowd behind her.

Stop it, Mageia, or they will dismiss you to death before you have a chance to defend yourself, the reasoning side of her conscious spoke.

King Dimitri's eyebrow raised, and his eyes narrowed. "You, like many other bandits who manage to stay hidden within the walls of our kingdom, have a very long record."

So, what, burn them.

"Your unnatural eyes are not something people so easily forget."

Thanks to your Diviine Six.

"Which I can admit are quite intriguing, having this our first acquaintance."

What? Mageia wanted to say. How can you forget me? It's only been eight years.

"Is there something wrong?"

"Um... no," she said uncertain of whether to mention her past failed execution and decided not to. It'd only add on to suspicions of sorcery.

"Then answer my question."

"Can you repeat it please?"

"What is your name?"

"Mageia Unknown," she said.

"Unknown? I'm guessing that means you have no surname?"

"That is correct, Your Highness."

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

"Your thieving and breakouts precede you. For the record, how long have you been in this illegal business?"

"Um...For seven and a half years..."

"And do you have any reasons for your actions other than the obvious opposition to the Laws and the Crown?"

Mageia allowed a pause to follow before answering. "We needed food and necessities."

"Food and necessities? The very things a Strange would receive by legal means."

"Like slavery you mean or begging?" she scuffed.

The King narrowed his eyes. "Everyone must pay their debts somehow, Fair and Strange, correct?"

"Honestly, Your Highness. It could be done excluding the slavery part."

"So, what do you suggest?"

She gasped and shifted feet. She couldn't tell if the man was mocking her or honestly curious to know her thoughts on the matter. So, she thought of her brave mother and spoke proudly. "Paid servitude," she said and heard a few people shout their agreement.

"Hmm," he said studying her with hard unreadable eyes. "Are you a Soother? A gift from the gods?"

She shifted feet from the swift change in topic but answered confidently. "I don't know, Your Highness."

A couple of chuckles arose from the crowd and two of the judges exchanged dark smirks. One of them leaned forward to speak.

"So, you don't know if you are a gift or a curse?" said the judge with fuzzy white hair and a beard trimmed into a sharp point off his chin.

"Well..." Mageia said cocking her head from side to side. "I know I'm not a curse, but I wouldn't call myself a gift either."

The old judge scoffed loud and nasty. "That's ridiculous. Highly impossible. You must know what you are, you're near full grown."

"From what I know about Soothers, their gift can be triggered at any time if it's not addressed at a younger age. I never was given the privilege of that."

For a minute the King and the Judge were silent and exchanged unreadable glances. The crowd on the other hand began to mumble. Then from the right side of the inclined circle, a familiar pair of flaming red eyes and hair stepped forward into her peripheral.

"Your Highness, may I speak?" Commander Eron Shadar said.

"You may, Commander," the King said.

Mageia groaned as the Fiisen approached a podium wearing another one of his daunting uniforms and cloak. If he wasn't known to be so cold-hearted and arrogant on the inside, she wouldn't mind how soothing and appeasing he looked on the outside.

"When I heard of her capture and what her vagabond friends had done-," he said, "I went to interrogate her, hoping it would reveal a Sooth, but found none."

Mageia gawked. "Liar!"

Those red eyes cut to her and her left leg where he had burnt her began to ache.

"Explain yourself," the King said before the Commander could respond.

"He only burnt and tortured me. If he was trying to reveal a Sooth, he did a very poor job at it," Mageia said.

"Being that I am a Fiisen, I would've been able to sense any magic in her blood. I felt nothing," the Commander said angrily. "She is as mortal as anyone in this room."

Screw you, she wanted to scream at the young man.

"Can you attest for this, Master Joras?" the King said.

Mageia followed the King's gaze to the Master Fisican sitting on the front row. He stood and looked a bit flabbergasted.

"Your Highness?" he said.

"Did you not visit the Taefo earlier this morning? I received word that you were spotted there, no doubt visiting this girl out of curiosity, I assume."

"Um...Yes. That is correct," he said replacing the Commander at the podium. He caught eyes with Mageia whose gut churned realizing this man could be the strike she needed to meet the Dais again.

"I-I found nothing suspicious or interesting except her -obviously her eyes and that she had begun to heal of her wounds. Nothing else, Your Highness."

"Begun to heal, you say?" the Commander said giving Mageia a dangerous glare. "The girl was near to death last night. Yet here she stands, awake and full energized as if no harm was placed upon her."

"I did give her some amberia leaves this morning for the pain," Master Joras said to Mageia's surprise. Why was he trying to help her?

"Still, something is not right here," the Commander said and began to approach with intentions.

Mageia gasped and backed away only for two guards to push her back into place, almost colliding into the man. Before she knew it the Fiisen, grabbed the right side of her collar, and ripped it down to expose her shoulder.

"How dare you," she squealed and gathered enough strength and courage to push him in his breastplate. He barely moved.

"Commander, mind your manners," the King bellowed as the Commander's red eyes scanned her shoulder.

"Sorcery," he barked now backing away from her as if she was poisoned. The crowd behind her arose with mutterings and shuffling as people stepped backwards.

"No," Mageia said, heart stammering from this inevitable accusation.

"What was that, Commander? Explain yourself?" the King said, now quite upset.

"I interrogated the girl. She had an arrow in her shoulder. That shoulder. But the wound is near gone. How is that possible?"

"I am not a witch!"

"Silence," the King ordered and when the noise subsided a bit he continued. "Then what are you?"

"I told you, I don't know," she said, glaring at the Fiisen.

"Are you an outsider?" the King said.

"No. I was born here in Ardania."

"Where in Ardania?"

"Uh..." she said realizing she hadn't thought of that answer before. "Strana," she said hoping it'd be acceptable.

"You're lying," the Commander said red eyes flickering dark.

"No, I am not."

"Who are your parents? Are they still alive?" Judge Criily asked.

"No. They are dead."

"Quite convenient," she heard the Commander mumble.

"Who were they?" the King said.

"Um... I'm not obliged to say."

"And why not?" the King said.

"Because they're dead and it does not matter."

"I assume whoever they were hid you from Checkings and the Court, or simply left you somewhere to die," Judge Criily said.

"No, they died of natural causes leaving me to defend for myself."

"You're lying," the Commander growled under his breath.

She stared at him wondering if his gift could sense it or if she was failing at trying to hide it.

"Are you from an Elven line you wish not to disclose?" the King said.

"No. I don't think so," she said shifting feet.

"Are you a magician?" the King said.

"No."

"Are you sure you have no Sooth? Mind you, if you do it could help your case," the King said to her surprise.

"If I had a Sooth, believe me, it'd be the first thing I'd present to the Court."

"She must be born from sorcery," someone shouted from the crowd stirring it awake again.

"Silence," the King said.

"Honey, the girl is a nobody and probably deals with sorcery with her Strange friends," Queen Saia said with a humored smile.

"Not true," Mageia said.

"We are going to handle this case once and for all," the King said eyes narrowed in thought. "Can you give any answer, any reason for your purple eyes?"

My parents said I was special.

Mageia shrugged, uncertain of how to defend her eyes. Of all the years thieving, she never took time to think of anything to explain them.

"Do you think yourself pure?" the King said.

"I do," she said though many scuffs echoed throughout the Hall.

"She is not pure. Look at her criminal record. She must face the consequences of her actions," Commander Eron said.

"Mind you, Commander," the King said. She heard the Fiisen grumble something as the King continued. "Do you think yourself a hero?"

"No."

"A sorceress?"

"No. I am simply a thief and a Strange who possessed something called a heart and empathy to save children from an unnecessary death."

"They were Sacred," Queen Saia said with a chuckle of a careless, delusional woman. "Can you believe this?"

"Hush it, Saia," the King ordered with a dismissive hand. The curly blond made a spoiled disgusted face and clasped her hands upon her lap. "You had no right to steal sacrifices from the Crown and the Priesthood, especially on such an important night. You have interfered with one of the kingdom's holiest ceremonies to the Diviine Six."

"I doubt the Diviine's care," she said only to regret it because everyone grumbled their disagreement.

"She has no respect or honor to the gods," Queen Saia said this time serious. "No wonder she's cursed with those eyes."

"She also has no respect or honor to the Crown," Eron added.

King Dimiti's face seemed to shrivel more and more in disgust for Mageia and she could just feel her chances of escaping execution growing slim.

"Strange girl. Do you regret what you've done?" the King said.

"No," she said. "And would I do it again? Of course, because you were in the wrong." Muttering and gasps arose seeing her bravery to say such a thing to a Royal.

"How dare you," Queen Saia said but her daughter's smile stretched into a mischievous beam.

"Watch yourself Strange," the Commander growled.

"Please explain how I was in the wrong?" the King said eyes darkening with fury.

"You amended the law to exclude executing children and yet you did not heed it. You went by the words of some old priest to satisfy your own indulges for blood."

"I am king. I make decisions on behalf of the well-being of this kingdom."

"If you cared so much about the well-being of your kingdom then why are you and your loyal subjects profiting off the unfortunate circumstances of sickness, deformities, and injuries?"

"You have no right to question the Crown," the Commander said.

"What's the purpose of having a crown when you don't heed the voices of your subjects?" she said but glared at the Fiisen instead.

"Mind who you're speak too, Strange," the Commander said hand gripping the hilt of his sword.

"Silence Eron, allow the Strange to speak and bury herself."

Mageia scoffed with annoyance. "You Fairs and Royals think you're so high and holy and untouchable, but Fair or Strange, we all are still mortals, and we should not be held accountable for physical and mental misfortune. For two hundred years we've reverenced a law of cruel discrimination based off some ridiculous prophecy that may or may not be true. Only to what? Fill your pockets with bloody peeks? Yes. I stole from people, but not from everyone. My family only stole from the fools who enjoy watching people's heads being chopped off."

"These laws have governed this kingdom well for centuries," the Commander barked.

"Oh, whatever comes out your mouth is nothing but a joke," she snapped at the Commander whose chest puffed up in rage. A few veins around his eyes spewed red with the desire to burn her alive right then and there. He managed to take a step or two to do something to her, but the King ordered him to stand down.

She raised her chin in defiance at the Soother and could feel his heat penetrating from his pores. Yeah, stand down like a good little servant, she wanted to say.

"You speak so well to be just a thief," the King said, slow, steady, and thoughtful.

"Anyone with any sense would say the same," she quickly said.

"Yet... so familiar..." he grumbled massaging his beard as his mind dug for a faint memory, she prayed he would not remember.

Oh no. What if I sound like my parents? Some of these people might have worked with my father or were present to hear my opinionated mother speak before her death.

Queen Saia scuffed. "This Strange is wasting our time, Dimitri. Make a decision so we can move on."

"Hush woman, I'm trying to think," he said receiving a roll of the queen's big ice blue eyes.

"May I speak, Your Highness?" the Commander said.

"I suppose so," the King said but not happily.

"This Strange," he said stabbing a finger into her face, "-sorceress or not was a danger and a nuisance to the cities for eight years."

"What danger?" she said. "We just took things in order to survive."