ANNABEL’S TRIAL

Emma’s eyes were as active as anything active as she watched the elders slowly walk into the hall reserved for judging cases, like Annabel’s.

As she watched them, her feet kept dancing on the floor in a funny unsteady motion; she was unsteady. One, one. Then two, two. Then one two.

Once, Amelia had looked at her, with a piqued eyebrow. ‘What is that?’ Her eyes seemed to ask, but Emma had given no answer.

What is it? It should be what are they?!

When they were hurrying over to the hall, after convincing the guards that they would be around for the trial too, her sister had whispered that the cabin, her parent’s cabin, had been burnt by the master, Slediv.

It had brought Emma up short, making her stagger on her feet for two reasons. That Slediv had really traced them, even without her then, and that the cabin was burnt; the loss it meant for her parents.

Would they regret helping her then? Prescott didn’t think so.

But Emma was still worried about it, just like her mind had tried