With a dismissive blink, he turned his gaze to one of the wigged men, pale-skinned and decidedly average, and invited him to put forward the case against her. One of the other wigged men readied his pen, he had to be a clerk of some sort, and the blond naval officer stationed himself just behind his chair.

… Piracy … Theft and murder upon the high seas … Capture of several vessels, including Albionic ones … Trickery of good men, seducing them to do her bidding … A monstrous threat to civilisation itself … blah, blah, blah.

The story was predictable. She could have laughed at the seduction part—when had she forced anyone to do her bidding?

Smile fixed in place, she narrowed her eyes at the pale man. She could do her own bidding well enough, thank you.

Still, she would remain silent until asked. If she couldn’t fall back on her fae charm, she’d play by their rules and beat them at their own game with the truth. That’d teach them.

When the pale man had finished, the judge asked whether she had anything to say in her defence.

“I do, in fact, thank you, Your Honour.” She rose and bowed to him, the picture of lady-like elegance. Let that confuse them, show how terrible a threat to civilisation she was with her perfect etiquette.

She cleared her throat and began her side of the story.

They’d been offered pardons and a letter of marque by Captain Knighton Blackwood, formerly Villiers. It was an offer she’d gladly accepted as they were good and loyal subjects of Her late Majesty. The Naval officer kept ducking and whispering into the clerk’s ear as she spoke, making her burn with irritation and frustrated curiosity. Still, she did her best to ignore him.

“We’ve been working for the Crown for three, nearly four months as privateers. Why else would we sail a Hesperian treasure ship and half its silver into Plymouth? Why would we, ourselves, put in at Portsmouth and its world-famous Royal Dockyard, with the other half of the silver? If we were still pirates, that would be suicide.”

The judge stared back at her, and his eyebrows lifted in such a subtle expression Knigh would have been proud.

“But,” she went on, “if we were privateers, as I’ve said we are, doesn’t that explain our actions? As privateers, it was merely part of our work taking and delivering prizes for Her Majesty.”

“Your Honour,” the pale attorney said, rising with a sheaf of papers in his hand, “I’d humbly ask you to consider—”

“I know.” The judge raised his fingers to silence the attorney. “I’ve seen the testimony.” He pointed at Vice. “Show her.”

She frowned as the attorney approached and placed the papers before her. Hands still bound, she grabbed them and scanned the pages.

… acting as privateers … 

… forced to accept her leadership … 

… threatened the—