“Where is Ms. Landolin?” one of the Prophets asks, his white mustache hanging just past his lip.
The guards surrounding me split in two, leaving just Arek at the helm, yet he doesn’t move . . . not at first.
“Commander Rykor?” the mustached man asks as if expecting this from Arek.
Arek speaks first, “We don’t have the time to be here. Navin has caused chaos for our entire community, yet here we are communing over her.” He steps aside, so that they can see me. “Her name is Willow, Prophet Covey. This is not my wife. Not yet.”
The mustached man is the “Covey” Sassi spoke of—the one who is against me. “Thank you, Arek, but we’ll decide that.” Covey looks straight at me, giving my heart a jolt of fear. He is not to be trusted. This radiates deep within my chest. “Come forward, Ms. Landolin.”
I move slowly, my toes finally stopping just inches from the edge.
Covey pushes papers around on the table until he finally reaches one he likes. A pen sticks out between his thumb and forefinger. “Ms. Landolin, you have remembered Mak Oto and his father. Is that correct?”
“I . . .” I hesitate until he interrupts.
“Yes or no, Mrs. Rykor.”
I look at Arek behind me and he gently nods his head, telling me to be honest. “Yes, sir.”
Covey looks at the men beside him before he continues. “And is it correct that you have remembered your father, Briston Landolin?”
Briston sits at the table with them, but his discomfort is apparent as his foot taps the ground.
I nod, “Yes, sir.”
Covey hardly lets me finish before he’s on to the next question. “And this is you . . .” On the wall behind him, a picture is suddenly displayed. There’s no obvious projector or laser, so this makes me look around. Several pictures from the last few days—seeming to display our normalcy.
Arek steps forward angrily, “This proves nothing. She is not Remy. I can promise you that.”
“It proves everything, Arek,” Covey says.
“I know my wife.”
My tired eyes look up at Arek. The reminder of who I am not is always here.
“Step back, Arek,” Leigh calls out. “Watch yourself, son.”
Yet Arek refuses. “You know better than anyone, if she goes to the Cellar as she is, she has no chance. It is within our rights to demand that we have time.”
“Time?” Covey laughs. “Time, son? What you have done is run out of time. This woman has earned no kindness. She killed her own mother with plans to turn with the Rebellion—”
My heart drops. What is he saying? “My mother?” I whisper. I look at Arek and then Sassi in terror. Sassi shakes her head when she notices me.
“Covey, come out and show people who you are.” Arek turns to the rest of the table, “You all stay quiet, yet I know many of you knew she wasn’t guilty. Yet you all sit idly afraid. If you can give me time, I will prove to you that Navin and Japha spent years orchestrating this.”
“Your same old arguments won’t change the combined decision of the Powers and Prophets.” Covey raises his voice, while still indifferent.
Arek turns to the crowd and media standing chest to chest all the way to the back wall, “Many of you don’t believe in Remy’s ability to do this. Many of you stood by her through it all and declared war when she was executed. Where are you now?”
“They have no relevance,” Covey calls out. However, he quickly regrets what he has just said.
Arek swiftly capitalizes on the mistake. “You all heard it. Covey says your opinion has no relevance. Are you irrelevant?” The crowd begins to murmur. “Isn’t it strange that after the truth comes to light that Remy is The One—The One we’d heard about since we were children, who would bring peace to this world; after the world finds out about the edict over her, she is dead? Remy’s fight was always to liberate us while Navin’s ill-guided attempts for Genocide of the Ephemes . . .” He quietly turns to the Prophets and the few Powers there, “Yes, Remy stood against your control, Covey, over the Velieri. Was it you, Covey? Did you decide she’d become too powerful and so you told everyone that she was The One? Knowing the danger that would cause her? We spent many years of her life before her execution looking over our shoulders.”
The room erupts as Covey jumps to his feet. “That is contempt, Mr. Rykor.”
“Did you?” Arek yells.
“Take him. Now,” Covey orders the guards.
“No.” Arek’s hands tell the guards to stop moving toward him. “I will stop if you let me have her. This is not Remona, no matter how much we want to tell ourselves that she is.”
Covey is growing agitated. “She murdered Lyneva Landolin, a prominent figure of Velieri Electi, because Lyneva found out valuable information. There is proof that Remy was working with Japha and Navin for this Genocide, as you call it.”
Arek glares at him. “Prove it. And give us time to prove otherwise. There is obviously a reason that she has come back to us.”
Covey is finished with Arek and looks at me. “Mrs. Rykor, is this you? Fighting with Mak and Arek?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
Arek continues to fight, “Mannon, Jenner, Hawking . . . give us time. It is you who put the target on her back when you allowed the prophecy to be released. You owe us the time.”
Covey places his hand over the microphone and turns with red cheeks and a heated tone. For several minutes they speak, until two of the Prophets angrily stand and walk away. Covey continues, “Mrs. Rykor, you are hereby detained and must remain in the Cellar until further notice.”
“Hawking!” Arek calls out one of the Prophets by name. She is a woman with red hair braided down her shoulders and her eyes are as callous as Covey’s. “She will be killed within those walls and you know it.”
Hawking leans over to her microphone, “If we do not send her, what will people think of our justice system, Commander Rykor? What will they think of our ability to keep control? The safety of our people is most important.” She turns to Covey, who waves his men forward with an obvious command to take me. They have their weapons drawn.
“Navin and Japha won’t let up until they have her,” Arek calls out.
