Chapter 7

"Apologize to Lucia and leave," Caleb said, his voice tight with anger. "Now."

I looked into his eyes and suddenly felt as if I didn't know him at all.

My father spoke next, "Lyla, this is your last chance. Apologize."

I looked at him. Then at Caleb. Then at all the faces around me filled with disgust, disappointment, and open contempt.

"Fine," I said.

I set my glass down on the table and turned toward Lucia.

I took a deep breath and bowed my head.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I shouldn't have ruined your dress."

Lucia buried her face against my father's chest and cried even harder.

Caleb shot me an impatient look. "Get out. You're not welcome here."

For a moment, I found myself envying Lucia, protected inside the circle formed by Caleb and my father.

Then I turned and walked out of the hall.

The memory slowly faded.

Back in the square, the third elder, Theo Marshall, spoke up. "She apologized."

"Because she knew she'd been caught," Russ replied immediately.

"But the juice in her glass didn't spill," someone said quietly.

Everyone turned toward the speaker, a young warrior standing near the edge of the crowd.

He immediately lowered his gaze.

But it was too late. The words were already out.

Caleb snapped toward him. "What did you say?"

"I-I just meant..." the young warrior stammered. "Her glass was still full. If she pushed someone, the drink should've spilled."

"Maybe she kept her balance," Russ said quickly.

"But Ms. Lucia crashed into the table," the young warrior continued, gathering courage. "With that much force, the glass shouldn't have stayed steady."

My father turned to Caleb, whose face had gone pale.

"Caleb," my father asked, "did you really see it happen?"

Caleb's lips parted.

His gaze shifted to me. I was shaking under the flames, my body trembling from the pain, but I forced myself to lift my head and meet his eyes.

"I..." Caleb hesitated for the first time. "I was accepting congratulations. When I turned, I caught it out of the corner of my eye."

"Out of the corner of your eye?" my father pressed. "Not clearly?"

"It was crowded. I was far away," Caleb admitted, his voice lowering.

"And you're sure it was me?" I asked.

He didn't answer.

"Caleb," my father said, his tone heavy, "answer her."

Caleb closed his eyes.

"I believed it was you," he said at last. "You were the only one standing in front of her."

"So you didn't actually see it," I said. "You just assumed."

"Lucia had no reason to destroy the most important dress she owned!" Caleb snapped, frustration breaking through.

"Other than you, I can't imagine anyone wanting to hurt her!"

"You see?" I said slowly. "The moment she cries, you believe her. All of you do."

"But why would she frame you?"

"Because she's afraid of the prophecy!" I shouted. "She's afraid my bloodline will awaken. Before I could even find my footing, she needed everyone to hate me. She needed to bury me completely!"

"Enough with these baseless claims!" my father cut in sharply.

"Then what about these memories?" I struggled against the chains, metal clattering loudly.

"First, the moonstone. Then the dress. Every time, she was the one who approached me first. Dad, did you never question it?"

My father's expression stiffened.

"But none of this proves you didn't betray the pack," he said hoarsely. "Continue the trial."

"Alpha..."

"Continue!" he roared.

The collar tightened again.

Pain swallowed me whole once more.