Free The Schism (The Broken Prism Book 4) by V. St. Clair Page A

the mage to Calahan’s left spoke.
    “As you said, our claim to the Frost assets was perfectly legal, as there were no known heirs prior to Aleric’s death. You can hardly blame us for not knowing about you before then; you didn’t even know who your father was until after his demise.”
    “I don’t blame you for not knowing who I was before,” Hayden admitted easily. “But you do know about me now. You may have taken everything from my father, but you’re now keeping it from me , his rightful legal heir. Unless you can prove that I am also an enemy of mankind and mentally unfit to run the household, you have no right to keep using my money and land for your own purposes.”
    “Just because you don’t like it doesn’t make it illegal,” another of the mages commented dryly.
    “You’re right. Actually, it’s the Revocability Act that makes it illegal, Clause three,” Hayden agreed.
    Calahan looked like he’d been clubbed over the head.
    “And how would you know something like that?” he asked with unflattering suspicion.
    Hayden smirked and said, “Surprise, I can read.” A very uncomfortable silence filled the room after this, punctuated only by Master Asher, who hastily worked to turn a snort of laughter into a cough.
    If Hayden had any hope of the trial being finished quickly, he was sadly mistaken. The Council members attempted to drag him through every argument imaginable to try and make him slip up. He was immensely grateful for all the practice Edgar and Mrs. Trout gave him during the last few weeks, when they berated him for hours every day over these same conversation points, so he already had his defenses at hand when the Council brought them up now.
    Bonk remained regally poised on his shoulder for the next hour, like an intimidating gargoyle, and Hayden had to resist the urge to ask him to switch shoulders so he could massage the place where the dragonling’s weight had been resting for so long. He didn’t think that would look very professional.
    Hayden almost laughed whenever Magdalene Trout took a turn at questioning him, since most of their dialogue was just a repeated version of a dozen previous conversations.
    “Would you be willing to let us defer repayment of the loans until you come of age?” she asked in a cool voice.
    Since they’d already discussed this very thing three times in the last week, Hayden had his answer ready.
    “No, I would not. You’ve had my money for long enough, now give it back.”
    Calahan scowled at him and asked, “Why are you so eager to get your hands on your father’s assets?”
    “Does it matter?” Hayden shrugged. “Besides, we’ve spent the past hour agreeing that my father is dead, so they aren’t his assets, they’re mine. Stop trying to trip me up in some legal fiction and just tell me whether you’re going to give me my things back, or if I need to begin suing each of you personally to recover the funds.”
    Someone in the audience gasped, but Hayden didn’t turn to look at who it was. There was nothing even remotely friendly in the faces of the Council members now, which gave Hayden a vicious sense of satisfaction, because it meant he was winning. He was sick of them walking all over him just because he was a teenager.
    “You are as arrogant as your father,” one of the Councilmen snapped at him. “You should learn some respect for your superiors.”
    Thoroughly annoyed, Hayden ticked the Medal of Heroism on his chest and said, “So should you. If it wasn’t for me and Oliver Trout, you’d still be in a cage having the magic sucked out of your body while the Magistra governed from your Crystal Tower.”
    The Councilman jumped to his feet and slammed his palms onto the desk in front of him, face purple with rage as he shouted, “You’re nothing but a jumped up little boy who thinks he’s special!”
    “I’m a jumped up little boy who’s about to win this lawsuit,” he corrected, enjoying the man’s anger. “You’ve