Free Solstice by Jane Redd

said the right things, followed the proper procedure and didn’t mess anything up. I rose quickly, hoping the council would appreciate my eagerness to please, then followed the direction of an inspector who pointed to a sectioned-off area in front of the bench. The worn, crimson ropes formed a square, and as I approached, the inspector unhooked one of the ropes to let me inside.
    I took my place and lifted my gaze to the judges. Most of them stared at me, but a few seemed to be looking right past me, as if they had little interest in the proceedings.
    The inspector, who’d directed me to the ropes, read the charges from his electronic tablet. I kept my lips pursed as he began. “Citizen Jezebel James has been found out of compliance for the following: possessing an illegal item, in the description of a book. Citizen Jezebel James has also been found out of compliance for the following: reading said illegal book.”
    The inspector continued to drone through passage after passage of formalities. I didn’t realize there was so much to say about such a simple crime. Finally his voice cut off, and my breath stalled. Would they hand down judgment immediately? Would I be excused and asked to return after they deliberated?
    The room was eerily quiet as I waited.
    The head judge spoke first. “Tell us why you read an illegal book.”
    I licked my lips, wishing I had Sol or Chalice’s courage. They’d know what to say. Taking Sol’s advice, I said, “I don’t remember opening the book. I only remember picking up the satchel from the Examiner at my childhood home.”
    The judge’s expression remained still, as if she hadn’t heard me. She waited. I waited.
    I spoke again. “If I’d known what was inside the satchel given to me, I wouldn’t have accepted my inheritance. But since the Examiner gave it to me, I thought there might be important information inside the book.”
    Now the judge’s expression changed. Her black eyes narrowed to slits. “Why didn’t you turn it in when you opened the satchel?”
    I looked down as I scrambled for an answer. What I said next could determine the rest of my life. “I thought perhaps the book had come into my hands for a reason.” They certainly knew about my caretaker’s letter. “My caretaker gave it to me for a purpose, perhaps as a warning—a warning that is meant for all of us . . . ”
    Several of the judges leaned forward, their expressions questioning. My heart sank. Had I said something wrong? Had I given something away? I plunged on, hoping that spending the last five years in their A Level classes had taught me enough to get through this.
    “We must always follow the rules, even if we don’t agree,” I continued. “I thought the book was something I was supposed to read—even if I didn’t know why yet.’”
    That seemed to relax them, but it was hard to read their placid expressions. The head judge nodded for me to continue.
    Was this a good sign? I moved on, embracing the chance to defend myself. “I needed to experience the consequence of hiding something,” I said, directing the focus away from the possibility that I had actually read the book and remembered what I’d read. “The consequence of being caught, and the consequence of standing before the judgment seat.”
    The head judge tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. What did that mean? She approved or she didn’t approve?
    She was still waiting for me to speak, so I said, “If I’d not had this experience, then I wouldn’t understand the human condition fully as I move on to the University level.” I let out the breath I was holding, hoping they’d believed my act and that it would be enough.
    The judge’s hands came together in a swift and decisive motion. “Three months arrest.”
    Arrest? I was being sent to prison? I opened my mouth to protest, to question, but stopped myself. Three months . . . how much would that set back my plan? Would I still be eligible for the University?
    My