Free Hands of Flame by Ce Murphy Page A

trial?” Margrit’s voice shot up again, incredulous. “This isn’t the fourteenth century, Grace!”
    â€œIt’s gargoyle tradition. Ask him.” Grace cut a nod at Alban, who shifted enough that Margrit recognized an uncomfortable admission in the movement.
    â€œI don’t care if it’s tradition, it’s stupid. Nobody in their right mind would settle—”
    â€œYou’re the one who thinks Biali’s lost his mind,” Grace said, suddenly chipper.
    Margrit curled a lip and tried again. “No one in this era—”
    â€œMy people are not from this era, Margrit.” Alban broke in, voice a low rumble. “But it makes no difference. I will not participate in the test.”
    â€œThen you lose by default, Korund, and you’re condemned.”
    Alban lowered his gaze. “So be it.”
    â€œAlban—” Margrit broke off, struggling for composure. “I don’t understand you,” she finally said, low-voiced. “You couldn’t have always been so willing to let things roll over you. You fought for Hajnal. You protected—” She cast a glance toward Grace, then chose her words carefully. “You chose to stay outside the gargoyle memories to protect someone else’s secrets. Why won’t you fight now? I mean, it’s a stupid, stupid way to settle a rivalry, but you’re the one who’s been so hung up on tradition all this time. If this is traditional, why turn your back on it?”
    â€œBecause I’m in the wrong, Margrit.” Alban lifted his eyes to her, pale gaze steady. “Because two of the Old Races have died at my hands—”
    Margrit made a strangled sound, hands curving to a throttling shape. “Because of me, both times!”
    â€œYou should know by now that motive doesn’t matter. We act on results, not intentions. Margrit, I know this is difficult for you, but I don’t see accepting our ancient laws as correct as being passive.” Alban exhaled quietly. “And an exile placed on me by my people might ease my…”
    â€œGuilt?” Margrit demanded. “Mea culpa, thank God, somebody else is blaming me, so now I don’t have to lay it all on myself? Alban, you’re going to carry this with you forever. I’m going to carry it forever. I can’t sleep from the nightmares. I’ve been a criminal defense lawyer long enough to know that other people might determine your sentence, but you’re the one who determines your guilt.” Her anger lessened and she sat down on the cold floor, clutching the sides of her head.
    â€œMaybe I shouldn’t have pulled back,” she said more softly. “I thought I needed the time to deal with it myself. Maybe I was doing my share of running away, or not facing it, myself. But not taking advantage of this trial, Alban, not using it to see if your people will accept you as innocent,I can’t understand that.” She lifted her gaze, feeling tired. “The guilt’s not going to be eased either way.”
    Alban sighed. “Margrit, if you had knowingly taken a life, would you stand against your laws to try to free yourself?”
    â€œIf it was an accident or self-defense, yes!”
    â€œBut Ausra’s death was not an act of self-defense,” Alban murmured. “I was defending you, not myself.”
    â€œSo what am I, a second-class citizen? Not worth saving because I’m human?” Bitterness filled Margrit’s tone and Alban’s broad shoulders slumped.
    â€œI clearly felt your life was worth preserving over Ausra’s. But my people are not human, Margrit, and would not see my choice as the correct one. What if we lived in a world where the Old Races were known, and the positions were reversed? Would humans regard my life as more or less important than the human life I’d taken?”
    Margrit folded her head down to drawn-up knees. “You