“Our strategy should be figuring out what’s fair,” Jacey says. She’s pacing back and forth in front of the table, her dark curls bouncing with each step. “If he did it, he’s guilty. It’s as simple as that.”

“I don’t agree,” Bram says. His gaze finds mine as I approach the group. He’s the only one who knows I’m guilty of using unbound magic too. Although he isn’t aware that I can use all three Sights, he does know that my mother trained me, that I used charming magic before my binding ceremony. A wave of gratitude goes through me. “I think there’s a lot of gray area.”

“What kind of gray area?” Talon asks. He taps his fingers on the tabletop. I notice his knuckles are sprinkled with freckles as I slide into one of the chairs beside him. The parchment in my pocket feels as if it’s on fire.

Bram rakes a hand through his hair. “Maybe Jensen wasn’t aware the magic was illegal? Or maybe he thought he was justified in using it?”

Jacey blows a puff of air through pursed lips. “That’s what were supposed to decide. Was he justified or not?”

Tessa gets quiet. “Even if he was, it still doesn’t explain how he was able to use the magic so many years later.”

“Maybe he’s an anomaly,” I say. “Maybe his ability never faded, and he was able to access Mending Magic in an emergency.”

“Even if that’s true,” Jacey says, “he still used unbound magic.”

“But it goes to intent,” Bram counters.

We go back and forth until nightfall. Finally Niklas groans. “We’re getting nowhere. I think we’re just going to have to wait until we’ve questioned the witnesses at trial to form an opinion.” He’s hardly said a word all evening, which somehow makes his opinion more forceful.

“You’re right,” Tessa says. “I’m willing to listen to what the witnesses say before I make up my mind.”

And so, we all agree. We’ll wait until the trial to decide.

Tessa is particularly chatty that night as we prepare for bed. She gives a long commentary on everything from the bone games to her Healing training—Master Dina has been particularly demanding lately—to wondering if Niklas is so quiet because he’s homesick or if he simply has a more reserved personality.

“Or maybe he’s just slow to warm up,” she says, pulling the tie from her hair and using her fingers to untangle her curls. “Do you think he might talk more once he knows us better?”

“Probably?”

“You seem faraway tonight. Is something on your mind?”

The question catches me off guard. My mind keeps jumping back and forth between worrying about Jensen and obsessing over the folded parchment in my pocket. All I can think about is Tessa falling asleep so I can read it.