Chapter 488: Charlotte’s Hope
While Violet had seemingly settled down, there remained a charge in the air of the chambers like the atmosphere before a storm. Graeme remained standing, and while he did those who had submitted to the authority of his presence were still kneeling on the floor of the chambers or, for those who were sitting in the mezzanine rows of seats, bowed low so that their eyes were not raised above him.
Now Graeme had to make a decision. Would he allow this show to continue? Because for Violet, that seemed to be exactly what this was: a show. She was going to test his authority at every juncture and get as many words in about her conspiracy theories and distortions of facts against him as she could. There was no question that if she spoke out against August again, he would end it. But perhaps, if he continued to let this go on and allowed her the rope that she was tugging on, she would hang herself with it in the eyes of the pack without him needing to do it for her.
He didn’t want to sentence her on his own without this process playing out. It was as simple as that. With their history and everything she had been through recently—in addition to his lack of experience with the type of trauma that she had endured—it was not right to proceed with a decision on his own. But how would he let this process play out without also appearing to go easy on her?
There was a fine line for him to walk here. He could easily appear too hard on her or too lenient, and there were so many variables in this complex web of Violet’s history that the middle ground—that fine line—was hard to make out. It was cloaked in a darkness that he could not see through, even with the Veiled. But somehow he felt that if August were here, she would be able to see it.
"This is not the theater. You will not speak against our Luna who is not here to defend herself. You will not speak against our alyko who have already endured more than anyone else in this pack by being falsely accused and sacrificed. You will answer the questions that are given. If you have witnesses to your character, you may call them. And if you fail to comply with these rules, it is treason," he spoke low and clear, the last word resounding within the chambers for all to hear.
Treason. There was only one sentence sufficient for it, and everyone knew it.
Violet did not answer, but her eyes turned a dimmer shade of gold. In that moment, he hated that she had those color eyes in common with his mate. It felt like the universe was mocking him by forcing him to look into the eyes of the one whom he had hurt and be reminded of the blessing he was still allowed afterward. He had been blessed with a mate and with an heir and with the Luna of his pack, but he was not done paying for the past. This seemed to be one last test, one last challenge to overcome. And he wasn’t sure what the answer was to overcoming it.
"Do you understand, Violet?" He asked.
A spark lit in both of her eyes like twin matches that had been struck. "Yes," she said, glaring at him.
Once her glare then darted away from him, unable to withstand holding his gaze for too long, he sat back down and nodded for Charlotte to continue.
"When you left pack land, Violet, where did you go?" The elder asked, her gentle eyes observing the female who was still so young.
Charlotte could see that the rebellious fire in Violet had found something to stoke it and that she was determined to hold on as tightly as she could to all of the blame and anger and hurt and fury because she thought it would make her strong... when what Violet truly needed was to heal.
As she waited for Violet to answer, the delicate skin of Charlotte’s fingers ran along the paper in her hands with its list of questions that sketched a mere skeleton of events. And somehow it felt like that was all that was left of this girl. One small errant line after another where Violet had gone astray that felt just like a pile of bones in the desert.
Regardless of what the outcome was of this trial, Violet was already like one of La Loba’s expired creatures. She had died inside. There was just too much that had happened to her—too much hurt and trauma—that she couldn’t find a way back to that abundance of youthful joy that she once had. She could not longer see the error in her judgment. And all of these pack members who were gathered around now were witnesses to a death that was already complete. This was no trial. This was a funeral for the sweet pup who was no more.
The paper trembled in Charlotte’s hand, and she laid it down before her. The silence in the large room now as everyone waited for Violet’s heartbreaking story to unfold felt wrong. It turned her stomach, and Charlotte squeezed her paper thin eyelids shut, hoping for more to come of this day than what she felt was already structured and laid out before them all. She hoped for the unexpected, for a surprise. She hoped for a miracle that would swoop down and give Violet the sudden clarity to overcome the darkness that had made its way so deep into her soul that it had rooted there. She hoped for La Loba.
On the skylight above, a crow alighted to peer inside the chambers. All of the Hallowell pack members were gathered inside save for the smallest of pups who were kept away with older siblings or caretakers. And one lone female stood in the center of them all—a speck in the center of the circular black floor below. Should that one broken, damaged, torn apart female really be forced to face this pack alone?
