“Hmm,” Abi replied, wondering why on earth such a man would have enrolled his son in the Artificer building classes. “Well, that doesn’t give him any power here on the Hill. At least, not against someone like me.”

“Don’t count on that, and don’t count on him not making trouble for you,” Trey warned again. “He can try to get you expelled.”

But while Trey had been talking, Abi had already come up with a plan.

The only question in her mind was, would she have to use it?

•   •   •

Abidela was not startled by the tap on her shoulder from behind as she left her last class. She’d been perfectly aware of the Guard’s approach through the hall, even though he’d done his best to remain unobtrusive. “Abidela?” he said, sounding apologetic. “I’m afraid you will have to come with me. Someone has lodged a serious charge against you that requires answering.”

It was a young man she vaguely knew from the rotations of Guards on the Royal Suite. Which made sense, whoever wanted her would have sent someone who knew her on sight.

She shrugged. “All right,” she said agreeably, but she said nothing more. When the Guard didn’t get any further response from her, he motioned to her to follow and took her from Heralds’ Collegium, where the classes had been, into the administrative area of the Palace, to a hall full of offices. As she had expected, waiting for her were a red-faced, hand-bandaged Dudley Remp, an older, hard-visaged man who was probably his father, and behind a big desk, someone she didn’t recognize, probably whoever was in charge of the Artificers. It was a larger office, which suggested this man was important enough to be the equivalent of the Dean of Heralds or Healers. There was more than enough room for the three people currently in it and a chair waiting for one more—her, she supposed.

“That’s her!” Dudley blurted, jumping to his feet and pointing, as soon as she came in. “That’s the bitch that broke my finger! I want her beaten! I want her beaten and thrown out, Master Ketnar! Right now!”

Anger brought with it energy, but she schooled herself not to show it. It looked as if she was going to have to implement her plan after all.

“I demand Truth Spell,” she snapped, instantly, before anyone could say anything else. “As the accused, I am entitled to demand Truth Spell. On both of us. We’re here at the Collegium, there are literally dozens of Heralds and Trainees that can do it at a moment’s notice. I demand it now.”

And with that, to demonstrate that she had no intention of saying anything until a Herald turned up, she picked up the empty chair, moved it as far from Dudley and his father as possible, and sat down in it with her arms crossed over her chest.