Page 60 of Innocent Until Proven Witch

Another member speaks up. "We've delayed long enough."

Several voices immediately agree. The discussion begins spreading through the room, faster, louder—the same accusations, the same assumptions, the same certainty.

Gideon finally sets down his papers. "I think patience would be wise."

The room quiets. Not because they agree. Because Gideon rarely interrupts.

One of the older council members scoffs. "Patience?" The word drips with disbelief. "People are disappearing.”

Gideon remains calm. "I am aware."

"Then why are we still discussing this?" The older man gestures toward the harbor. "How many more boats need to vanish?"

Several council members murmur agreement. Gideon waits for them to finish, then says quietly, "Because accusations are not evidence."

The silence lasts only a moment. Then the room erupts again. Arguments overlap, voices rise, someone slams a hand against the table. The frustration hanging over Moonhaven finally has an outlet. Unfortunately, it's aimed at the wrong person.

I feel Row shifting beside me. He already knows what's coming. Poor bastard.

Another councilman points toward Gideon. "You're asking us to ignore what is standing right in front of us."

Gideon's expression hardens. "I'm asking you to think."

The response earns several angry looks. One merchant rises halfway from his chair. "What is there to think about?" His voice echoes through the chamber. "She's a storm witch."

I heave deeply. There it is, their entire argument. Not evidence, not facts. A label.

The merchant continues. "Every disaster points back to her."

My patience finally snaps. I rise from my chair. Row immediately grabs my sleeve.

"Finn."

I ignore him. The hall falls silent, not because they're interested, but because they're surprised. I look around the chamber—at the worried faces, the frightened faces, the people so desperate for certainty that they've stopped asking questions.

"Do any of you hear yourselves?"

The words cut through the room. Nobody answers. I continue. "You're calling for punishment because you're scared."

Several council members bristle immediately. One opens his mouth. I don't let him.

"You've already decided she's guilty." I point around the room. "Before proving anything."

The merchant folds his arms. "We found her cloak."

I laugh. The sound surprises even me, because there isn't a trace of humor in it. "That's your evidence?"

The room grows colder. Several council members exchange looks. I press forward. "If Reina is responsible, answer something for me." Nobody speaks. I continue anyway. "Why is she rescuing survivors?"

The silence stretches. Good. Let them sit with it.

. "Why repair wards?" No answer. "Why risk her life every time a storm appears?"

The questions land one after another. The room remains silent, because nobody has an explanation. Their conclusion only works if they ignore half the facts.

I look around the table. "They don't fit."

Several council members avoid my gaze. Others don't. The older councilman scoffs. "Perhaps she's covering her tracks."