Abe's smile grew broader as shocked exclamations filled the audience, and Damon protested in outrage. Daniella might have had to persuade him to take me on in the beginning, but now this case had become a matter of pride for him. His reputation had just been sullied by me passing him up.
But I'd made my choice, and the exasperated judge would hear no more arguments about it. She shooed Damon away, and Abe slid into his seat. The judge began with the standard opening speech, explaining why we were here, etc., etc. As she spoke, I leaned toward Abe.
"What have you gotten me into?" I hissed to him.
"Me? What have you gotten yourself into? Couldn't I have just picked you up at the police station for underage drinking, like most fathers?"
I was beginning to understand why people got irritated when I made jokes in dangerous situations.
"My f**king future's on the line! They're going to send me to trial and convict me!"
Every trace of humor or cheer vanished from his face. His expression grew hard, deadly serious. A chill ran down my spine.
"That," he said in a low, flat voice, "is something I swear to you is never, ever going to happen."
The judge turned her attention back to us and the prosecuting lawyer, a woman called Iris Kane. Not a royal name, but she still looked pretty hard-core. Maybe that was just a lawyer thing.
Before the evidence against me was laid out, the queen's murder was also described in all its grisly detail. How'd she'd been found this morning in bed, a silver stake through her heart and a profound look of horror and shock on her face. Blood had been everywhere: on her nightgown, the sheets, her skin... The pictures were shown to everyone in the room, triggering a variety of reactions. Gasps of surprise. More fear and panic. And some... some people wept. Some of those tears were undoubtedly because of the whole terrible situation, but I think many cried because they'd loved or liked Tatiana. She'd been cold and stiff at times, but for the most part, her reign had been a peaceful and just one.
After the pictures, they called me up. The hearing didn't run the way a normal trial did. There was no formal switching back of lawyers as they questioned witnesses. They each just sort of stood there and took turns asking questions while the judge kept order.
"Miss Hathaway," began Iris, dropping my title. "What time did you return to your room last night?"
"I don't know the exact time...." I focused on her and Abe, not the sea of faces out there. "Somewhere around 5 a.m., I think. Maybe 6."
"Was anyone with you?"
"No, well--yes. Later." Oh, God. Here it comes. "Um, Adrian Ivashkov visited me."
"What time did he arrive?" asked Abe.
"I'm not sure of that either. A few hours after I got back, I guess."
Abe turned his charming smile on Iris, who was rustling through some papers. "The queen's murder has been pretty accurately narrowed down to between seven and eight. Rose wasn't alone--of course, we would need Mr. Ivashkov to testify to that effect."
My eyes flicked briefly to the audience. Daniella looked pale. This was her nightmare: Adrian getting involved. Glancing farther over, I saw that Adrian himself seemed eerily calm. I really hoped he wasn't drunk.
Iris held up a sheet of paper triumphantly. "We have a signed statement from a janitor who says Mr. Ivashkov arrived at the defendant's building at approximately nine twenty."
"That's pretty specific," said Abe. He sounded amused, like she'd said something cute. "Do you have any desk staff to confirm that?"
"No," Iris said icily. "But this is enough. The janitor remembers because he was about to take his break. Miss Hathaway was alone when the murder took place. She has no alibi."
"Well," said Abe, "at least according to some questionable 'facts.'"
But no more was said about the time. The evidence was admitted into the official records, and I took a deep breath. I hadn't liked that line of questioning, but it had been expected, based on the earlier conversations I'd heard via Lissa. The no-alibi thing wasn't good, but I kind of shared Abe's vibe. What they had so far still didn't seem strong enough to send me to trial. Plus, they hadn't asked anything else about Adrian, which left him out of this.
"Next exhibit," said Iris. There was smug triumph all over her face. She knew the time thing was sketchy, but whatever was coming up, she thought it was gold.
But actually, it was silver. A silver stake.
So help me, she had a silver stake in a clear plastic container. It gleamed in the incandescent lighting--except for its tip. That was dark. With blood.
"This is the stake used to kill the queen," declared Iris. "Miss Hathaway's stake."
Abe actually laughed. "Oh, come on. Guardians are issued stakes all the time. They have an enormous, identical supply."
Iris ignored him and looked at me. "Where is your stake right now?"
I frowned. "In my room."
She turned and glanced out over the crowd. "Guardian Stone?"
A tall dhampir with a bushy black mustache rose from the crowd. "Yes?"
"You conducted the search of Miss Hathaway's room and belongings, correct?"
I gaped in outrage. "You searched my--"
A sharp look from Abe silenced me.
"Correct," said the guardian.
"And did you find any silver stakes?" asked Iris.
"No."
She turned back to us, still smug, but Abe seemed to find this new information even more ridiculous than the last batch. "That proves nothing. She could have lost the stake without realizing it."
"Lost it in the queen's heart?"
"Miss Kane," warned the judge.
"My apologies, Your Honor," said Iris smoothly. She turned to me. "Miss Hathaway, is there anything special about your stake? Anything that would distinguish it from others?"
"Y-yes."
"Can you describe that?"
I swallowed. I had a bad feeling about this. "It has a pattern etched near the top. A kind of geometric design." Guardians had engraving done sometimes. I'd found this stake in Siberia and kept it. Well, actually, Dimitri had sent it to me after it had come loose from his chest.
Iris walked over to the Council and held out the container so that each of them could examine it. Returning to me, she gave me my turn. "Is this your pattern? Your stake?"
I stared. It was indeed. My mouth opened, ready to say yes, but then I caught Abe's eye. Clearly, he couldn't talk directly to me, but he sent a lot of messages in that gaze. The biggest one was to be careful, be sly. What would a slippery person like Abe do?