Asha watched as the assembly was gathered in the large Nun courtroom. Though to say it was a courtroom was a bit much for the young prince. It was a large oval room, similar in shape to a stadium, with seating going up on all sides just as one would. The chairs nearest the ceiling were the cheapest, and those not reserved on the ground the most expensive, and all manners of peasants wandered in with heavy raincoats and water shields in their arms.

  “Do they expect rain, mother?” the boy asked the Queen. She stopped rubbing her blue forehead and gave the commoners a passing glance. Tapping the winged Needaimus sitting in the chair beside her, the creature folded around her arm, and Queen Whitlock closed her eyes.

  “I hear talk of a storm ravaging Roanoke as we speak. It will be passing over here later today and continuing across the rest of the continent.”

  It was early in the season for such a storm, but what made Asha more curious was the fact so many of the people from around Nun. When the first storms of The Washing began, most people stayed indoors unless something was necessary. The overglamorized city’s way of making people think common activities were important entertainment was impressive, to say the least. Yet, still extremely disappointing at the same time.

  Though the young prince was not one to try to imagine himself in other’s shoes, his mother always said it was good to try and understand the peasants, and he, at the very least, would be the one child who listened to what their mother told them. He could imagine that the simple people were not lured to the courtroom for the acts of law and order turned drama program. The miserable wench on trial was the so-called famous Dia Mond. A hideous girl known to be a popular beauideal, the killer of his late father, and bested by his own sister in a match. The last of the facts made Asha the most embarrassed. No royal should be prancing around in frilly dresses and singing.

  If, and the prince felt he was giving a generous if, the peasants were in tune with the local happenings and news, they may have wanted to see the ugly girl up close as she faced justice for spiteing the Aqueenian people.

  Asha felt pleased with himself; he had found a reasonable explanation for the crowd pouring in, yet he knew it was all a lie. They were simply showing up to be entertained.

  As the last of the commoners filed in and the people selling refreshments finished marching their way up and down the steps, the winged horror was brought in.

  Her wings were bound up in a special apparatus that locked them to her back, and her hands cuffed so tightly together she couldn’t move her elbows apart. She stared at the floor, messy white hair hung over both shoulders. Asha liked to think she was finally reflecting on her sins, but he knew such a hideous girl wasn’t capable of such inner evaluating. Since the first of her sins was, of course, her birth.

  The girl was shoved into a middle ring, from which bars rose, trapping her in a cage. The cage moved upward on some hover device so that she became level with the judge’s seat. In a bubble to the side, her white Needaimus floated next to her, suspended just out of her reach. It almost seemed like a mockery, but the metallic creature was there to be tried and delivered punishment along with her.

  A rather rotund man sat next to the Queen and wiped sweat from his face.

  “Queen Whitlock, isn’t this enough for you?” he asked.

  Asha’s mother turned her head in a crooked manner to the newcomer. The young prince imagined she was flashing the man a stern look, and her voice didn’t conflict with the image.

  “Mayor Abelard, I wanted the criminal transferred to Quenth. We are doing this trial since you insisted.”

  The Mayor looked tired. He was probably still having a rough time searching through Nun’s government for bad actors after the assassination attempt on his life. Still, Asha had no sympathy for the pathetic man. He was, after all, a weak excuse for a leader.

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  “Your Majesty, I insist you let Nun take care of her punishment. We will make sure-”

  “You will make sure you give her a nice cozy cell to live in, and five years out of the public eye, or maybe even a sweeter deal. Be mindful of how aware people are of your conflict of interest, Mr. Mayor.”

  The Mayor’s face turned red, but before he could make a retort, a Zenotote girl slithered next to him and whispered something into his ear. He apologized and excused himself. The Zenotote flashed a nasty look at Asha’s mother and flicked her tongue but said nothing more before the duo departed.

  “Good riddance,” Queen Whitlock said under her breath.

  The lights began to dim in the room, and spotlights from the floor flipped on and began to spin. Music flared up, and a sorry excuse for a judge pranced his way into the room. He wore baggy clothes and long chains made more exaggerated by his jerky movements. After doing a front flip and holding hands up for a cheering crowd, the man sat in a large chair that lifted to the desk in front of Dia.

  The music continued to blast all around, and the man spoke in rhythm with the beat.

  “Ms. Dia Mond, stage beauideal and here for trial. You stand with counts of regicide in one, aiding terrorists in two, and participating in the attack on Mayor Abelard in three. Oh my!”

  Dia banged her cuffs against the bars and did her best to shout above the music.

  “Just put an end to this farce; I already know I have been betrayed!”

  Across the room, in the occasional flashes of light, as they passed over, Asha spotted the Mayor again. He stopped mid-walk and pressed a hand to his face, seemingly distraught. The young prince figured he knew what was best and decided to leave Dia to the fate she deserved. The Mayor of Nun may be an idiot, but at least he wasn’t a fool.

  The green girl’s outburst wasn’t enough to knock the judge off his rhythm. Stupid as it was, they were trained for unruly criminals.

  “Well, as an entertainer, you must understand. The people here came to be in the know, and so you can be quiet, but we are going to let them know, you know.”

  The green girl fell on her knees and rested bound arms against the cage. Asha watched the remainder of what the people of Nun called a trial while taking in the sight of Dia in udder sadness. They brought out person by person to show scenes and evidence of the girl’s wrongdoings, starting from her early life.

  Apparently, she stole bread as a girl to feed another orphan. Asha found the whole thing stupid; she should have been smart enough to get bread without stealing. At another point in her life, she beat up two Bentalousian girls; the reasoning left unknown, but Asha figured it was because Dia was such a hothead. As the years went by, the witnesses grew more and more scathing, eventually getting to some other beauideals who brought forth Dia’s history in rigged matches and being proficient in the Spell of Weakening. Her knowledge of magic brought a gasp to the peasants in the crowd.

  All the while, the green girl seemed to slump lower and lower to the floor of the cage. The Nun legal entertainment had a certain way of showing criminals just how awful they really were. By the end, some commoners felt compelled to even boo.

  But there was still one more witness to approach, and Asha was excited to hear his mother’s testimony. She walked with more grace than anyone in Nun deserved to see to the disk that lifted her to the level of the judge and criminal.

  “It was on a day to celebrate peace that this witch came bringing death,” his mother began, “but I need not bore you with all the minute details. I am simply a hurt woman, hurt by this girl. Have any of you lost a loved one? It is a cruel thing alone; my parents both passed away after getting sick many years ago, and it hurt having to say goodbye. Yet, have you imagined the pain of watching your husband die before your eyes? I hadn’t even a chance to say I love you one last time among all the day’s busyness.”

  By this point, some in the crowd had already begun to cry. Swept away in their emotions like fools, the prince thought. His mother, on the other hand, was calm as could be, able to keep emotions out of the speech, except when needed, to exaggerate and sway the crowd.

  “And that is why I ask. No, I make a humble plea as a woman left to lead a hurt nation. You must turn over this criminal to us and not let her escape into the weak punishments her supporters would allow to pass as retribution. In Quenth, we will punish her fully as she deserves.”

  The speech was a simple one, but the crowd was already primed with the onslaught of all of Dia’s worst moments being presented before them. They cheered, and soon, the cheers formed into a chant.

  “Send her away. Send her away.”

  The music had to increase in volume to shut the crowd up before it grew softer, and the judge cleared his throat. The fool in the baggy pants looked down to where Mayor Abelard stood. But the large man only stared at the ground.

  “I see,” the judge said, “well then, Dia Mond shall be turned over to Quenth authorities.

  The crowd cheered, and items were thrown into the air. Asha almost felt like he wanted to join them. He smiled at his mother as she returned, but she didn’t seem too pleased.

  “This town is disgusting,” the Queen muttered to herself as she sat back down to hear the judge close things out. Asha couldn’t help but agree.