Chapter 12 My Trial
Meira’s POV
Aunt Elizabethand Claribel’s words still echoed in my head like a curse I couldn’t shake off. You brought this upon yourself, Meira. Their voices replayed again and again until I could almost hear them whispering even now, as the two royal pack guards shoved me forward.
The shove was so hard it sent a sharp jolt of pain through my shoulder. I stumbled, catching myself just before I hit the floor. My knees buckled, and for a moment I thought I’d collapse right there. My body felt drained; I was too weak, too empty. I hadn’t eaten in days, barely slept. Everything around me blurred in and out, like the room itself couldn’t decide whether to stay still. Even standing felt like a battle I was slowly losing.
When the massive doors to the courtroom swung open, I could hear the murmur of the pack members seated within.
My heart thudded painfully in my chest.
I took a shaky breath and stepped forward. My chains clinked softly, echoing like mockery in the cold, hollow hall.
Elizabeth and Claribel were already there, seated in the front row, wearing the same smug, painted-on smiles I’d seen the day they dragged me out of their house. I wanted to rip that smugness right off their faces.
My stomach twisted the moment my eyes landed on the elders sitting behind the long wooden table. Their faces were lined with age and arrogance, like they’d already decided I was guilty before I even stepped through the door. Not one of them looked at me with pity, only disgust. And then my gaze shifted to the Alpha King.
His dark eyes burned with anger, his jaw tight, the mark of authority sitting heavy on his shoulders. I had seen fury before, but this, this was colder. He didn’t just want to punish me; he wanted to erase me.
All eyes were on me, their gazes slicing through what little strength I had left. They didn’t need evidence or questions. I could see it already, the judgment in their eyes. The whispers. The disgust. I was guilty before a word was spoken.
The chief elder rose from his seat, his long robe dragging against the marble floor. His gaze raked over me as if I were a stain that refused to fade.
“Pack members,” he began, his tone sharp and self-righteous, “we are gathered here because Meira, daughter of the late Ethan Ashford, stands accused of Lord Whitmore's murder. The evidence, as presented by her family, is clear. But even before questioning, I think we all know the truth.”
His words sliced through me. I wanted to scream, to defend myself, but my throat burned as if my voice had been stolen. The truth? He hadn’t even heard me speak.
My gaze drifted back to Aunt Elizabeth and Claribel. Beside them now sat Annabelle, her golden hair pinned neatly, her eyes glistening like she’d been crying. My stomach turned. Elizabeth’s smugness had vanished; she looked pale and broken. Claribel clutched a handkerchief dramatically, her shoulders shaking with fake sobs. How do they do that? One moment, vipers. The next, grieving angels.
“She killed my father!” Claribel suddenly cried out, her voice trembling just enough to sound convincing. Gasps rippled through the courtroom. A few pack members lowered their heads, murmuring condolences to the supposed grieving daughter.
I clenched my fists so tight my nails dug into my skin. Liar.
She killed him. Not me.
Aunt Elizabeth placed a trembling hand over her chest, lowering her gaze. “We tried to help her,” she said softly, voice dripping with false sorrow. “But she was always… unstable. Ever since her mother’s death, she’s been unpredictable, dangerous. We didn’t want to believe she could do such a thing.”
I almost laughed, but the sound died in my throat. Unstable? Dangerous? They’d called me cursed my entire life because I was different, half witch, half wolf. Now they were using that difference as proof of my guilt.
The chief elder nodded slowly, turning toward the Alpha King.
“As you can see, my lord,” he said, “the family is in mourning. Lady Elizabeth has testified that the accused administered an overdose to Lord Whitmore in an attempt to kill him. The spirit of Lord Whitmore will not rest until justice is served.”
The Alpha King leaned back in his grand chair, his fingers tapping the armrest as his gaze bored into me. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and steady; it was too calm.
“What do you suggest we do with her?” he asked, though the question sounded more like a warning.
The elder smirked slightly, bowing his head. “If it pleases the Alpha, I’d recommend a slow punishment. She’s a hybrid, a cursed one. We could feed her wolfsbane until she…”
“Enough,” the Alpha King interrupted sharply. His tone sent shivers down my spine. Then, with a deliberate calm, he added, “I would not have her death curse this pack. Let her live, but far from here. Let her be banished.”
The room fell silent. My knees buckled, hitting the marble floor with a dull thud. My heart sank as the word echoed in my mind. Banishment.
“No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “Please… Alpha, I—I didn’t—”
But no one listened.
“I just got my wolf,” I murmured, more to myself than to them. “I can’t even shift yet… please…” My voice cracked. They might as well have slit my throat. Sending me out there untrained meant death. Rogues would tear me apart.
The Alpha King didn’t look away. “Banish her by sundown,” he ordered coldly.
I could feel my heart breaking, my chest tightening as if something sacred inside me was being ripped apart.
But before the Alpha could finish his sentence, something strange happened.
A scent hit me sweet, intoxicating, unlike anything I had ever felt before. My senses sharpened, my body reacting before my mind could catch up. The courtroom faded away for a moment. The murmurs and the judgmental gazes are all gone. There was only that scent.
I turned, and my gaze locked on a pair of familiar blue eyes standing at the doorway. My breath caught.
The alpha Prince.
The air around him seemed to shift, It was heavy, commanding and dangerous. His presence demanded silence. Every wolf in the room turned to look, and even the Alpha King straightened in his seat.
He stepped forward, his eyes never leaving mine. His voice was calm, deep, and laced with power.
“Leave the judgment to me,” he said.
The room went completely still.