Santiago told me for his part, for not having come forward sooner with his knowledge of Holton and my brother’s involvement and the names of the others, he paid a fine. The way he said it makes me wonder in what currency. I have a feeling it was flesh. But he has been reinstated to his post as advisor to The Tribunal.

Mercedes is sitting beside Judge in the row below ours.

My father is seated on the other side of me. He is older now. It’s expected after all that’s happened. The physical and emotional attacks have taken their toll. But I think it’s this last piece, sending his son to the gallows because that is what he’s done, which has turned his hair white.

I squeeze his hand, and he looks over at me, his eyes shiny. I want to tell him it will be okay, but it won’t, so I don’t. I’m saved by having to say anything when a door opens, and two men enter. Masked guards in formal dress. Between them stands my brother, and I have to put my hand over my mouth to stifle my gasp when I see him.

Santiago tenses beside me, his grip on my hand tightening just a little.

It’s been months since I’ve seen Abel. Almost half a year. He’s spent part of that time on the run, and part of it in a Tribunal cell. I wonder if Judge’s accommodation for me was a luxury compared to where my brother has stayed.

The guards walk him toward the dais where he has to take the steps up one at a time. His ankles are shackled together by heavy, ancient-looking chains. They clang as he sets his hands on the bannister, the links dangling from the cuffs on his wrists connected to those at his ankles.

He is wearing a sheath similar to the one I wore when I stood in his place accused of his crime. The thought should harden me, but it doesn’t. He’s still my brother. And even if he weren’t, he is a man facing his end. And a part of me cannot make sense of it, cannot accept it.

Santiago and I have spoken about Abel’s sentence at length. He will be put to death. There is no way around it. And for Santiago, he has made a concession in allowing The Tribunal to mete out the punishment and the execution. After all, he is the man responsible for the deaths of his father and brother. For the injury to him and the subsequent emotional injury to Mercedes. Abel is the one who literally lit the flame that caused the explosion. And even as that is enough, there is what he did to Hazel and Michael and to me.