For the next month, M'yu worked his fingers to the bone and his eyes to constant headaches. The Trial was to be composed of four parts, and he had to be able to pass all of them. The Right to Speak was first, an oral examination on the law. Given a case, he had to act as a lawyer for both sides and in the end, pronounce what outcome the court AI that Peitros had built would choose. If his answer matched the AI's judgment, then he would move onto the next round—the Right to Serve. That was the one M'yu was least worried about. It was just a practical exam in some sort of skill, the field your House wanted to work in. Coding it was.

The third was the Right to Stand. "Mostly ceremonial now," Aevryn explained at dinner one night, in between bites. "It's just an ethics scenario. You have to make the choice between what's easy and what's right. The AI will generate a simulation on your console, but it's harmless and easy enough to determine what's right."

The fourth trial was the real problem. "It didn't used to be like this," Aevryn panted during one of their brief breaks in the training room. Sweat coated both their brows, the LMS suit cold against M'yu's skin. "The third trial was called The Right to Sheath because the idea was that you should be equipped to use your weapon, but it should spend more time put away than pulled out."

"And what's it like now?" M'yu asked, taking a drink of water.

"A gladiatorial extravaganza. More show than trial. People die every year even though it's not supposed to be a lethal contest; sometimes their House sends them to die intentionally."

M'yu's face screwed up. "Why in the world would they do that?"

"Because if you die, your house keeps the same place they earned last Trial." Aevryn wiped his brow. "It was supposed to be a protection and an honor. Now it's a tool."

M'yu pushed to his feet. "Not for us." And they were up and at it again.

Aside from these brief conversations with Aevryn, M'yu didn't really talk. School was something he did to sharpen him while Aevryn was busy prepping the court case against the Tsaright. He avoided both Ruslan and Sviya and sat alone at the Gold Table for lunch, usually with a book propped open. Law wasn't so unlike coding; they both had logical structures, rules he could combine to solve his problems.

He found out why the different parts of the Washfall Trial were called 'rights.' The Right to Speak let you serve as a lawyer in court, and the Right to Serve gave you the option to work for the government. The Right to Sheath, of course, gave Houses their rank in court. The Right to Stand was the strangest one. It gave someone the option to bear another person's court-assigned punishment. Heck of an ethics lesson, M'yu thought as he bit into a carrot and turned the page.

Worried Ruslan would ambush him, he limited going to the bathroom and always made sure to stay in crowds. During evenings, he worked long and hard with Aevryn on the dueling system, training to get the use of the LMS right. It was counter-intuitive: M'yu wanted to block and strike straight, but the electro-magnetic fields were stronger than he was. All Aevryn had to do was flick his blade to the side and M'yu's strike went wide, his blocks unanswered.

But it was coming. Little by little, it was coming. He ate, slept, and breathed for Washfall. When his aching body hit the pillow, he dreamed of sword tips piercing law documents. When he woke, it was all he cared about. Aevryn would beat the Tsaright in court, and M'yu would pass the Washfall Trial. He would set Karsya free, would invite his people to the glittering world of the Capital, would force the Caps to eat elbow to elbow with them, to see them as humans. He and Aevryn, they would win, no matter how much sleep he lost, no matter how hard his muscles ached, no matter how many dumb laws he had to memorize, they would win.

The final day of the court case against the Tsaright's lackey came, and Aevryn pulled M'yu out of school to watch the trial. It took place inside the Prav'sudja, in a wide, circular room that reminded M'yu of the Scrollschool gymnasium. He settled onto one of the large steel bleachers that jut out in hundreds of rows around the walls of the room. On the floor, not far below him, spread an enormous arena, its floor inset with rings and metal podiums. Aevryn stood tall inside one of the rings, and some snot-nosed nobleman stood in a ring across from him.

Watch this, Aevryn mouthed to M'yu, and flicked his eyes upward. Seated high on a protruding balcony, Tsaright Xten pushed a button on the arm of his platinum throne.

Light flared in the arena. From a podium in the middle of the floor, a giant holodisplay of Peitros coalesced into view. He didn't look wildly exuberant like he had in the videos. His hair was straight, crown in place, hands neatly folded. This was the king that M'yu had been expecting, and he found himself leaning in.

"The time for final arguments has come," the holodisplay called. "Rhostislav Andriy, are you ready to be tried?"

The Tsaright's lackey nodded deeply, but not deeply enough to hide his smug smile. We'll see how long you hold onto that, M'yu thought, fist clenching.

"Aevryn z'Daras, are you ready to Speak?"

"Yes, milord," Aevryn called.

"Then listen as we hear the final testimony of the accused."

The Tsaright's lackey straightened. "I admit, as I have already, that I am guilty of the theft. I stole the money out of my own selfish desires and have come to see the error of my ways. I take full responsibility for my actions—and my own actions they were, not of anyone else's doing."

"Speaker z'Daras, the accused has admitted his guilt. Would you like to waive your final argument?"

"I'm afraid not, milord." He pulled papers out of his suit jacket. "Permission to approach?"

"Permission granted."

Aevryn strode across the floor. "You see," he called, addressing both the AI and the crowd, "while the accused continues to argue that he worked alone, these sales records argue otherwise." M'yu scooted forward again, almost falling off his seat. Aevryn never broke up the Nightsale's operations, as M'yu had feared, but had done something much smarter. As his teacher fed the documents into the AI's podium, his voice rose. "The Ministry of Linkcards tracked the embezzled funds to an illicit market where the money was laundered. The proceeds were then deposited into a single person's linkcard account—but not Andriy's."

Delighted gasps and whispers went around the room as the AI considered, crunching numbers behind the scenes.

"This is theater," Xten laughingly protested from his throne.

Peitros held out his hands. "I have come to a conclusion."

The room hushed. M'yu's hands turned clammy in the silence, and he wiped them on his pants.

"The documents provided suggest that the recipient of the money was a Xten Scaran. This merits a second trial. Xten Scaran, I have scheduled your first hearing three weeks from today. This should give both sides adequate time to prepare."

The holodisplay turned its gaze on the lackey. The man's hands were clasped tight, his knuckles white.

"As for the defendant," Peitros said, "he is found guilty by his own admission. His punishment is as follows: he shall be removed from his government position, stripped of his title, and called to pay restitution two-fold."

The lackey looked up to Xten with watery eyes, quaking and waiting, M'yu supposed, for Xten to speak and reverse the decision. Other than the grinding of his jaw, though, the Tsaright didn't move a muscle.

A ten count displayed inside of the holo-Peitros. When it made its count to zero, he said, "There has been no move for mercy from the ruling Tsaright. If any Knight of the court should like to exercise his Right to Stand and take Rhostislav Andriy's place, you may now."

Another ten count displayed, but it counted down to silence.

"So be it," said the AI. "Then my word shall hold, now and forever."

The holo-display winked out, and Andriy, standing proud and tall just minutes before, collapsed to the ground. Aevryn walked past him and collected M'yu.

"You'd think he'd been executed," M'yu muttered.

Aevryn hummed. "Take away his title and his wealth, and he's a Gloamer. He probably feels like he has been."

They walked through the muttering crowd of Capitalfolk and had almost made it to their hover when a deep voice called out behind them. "Aevryn!"

They turned to see Dymtrus following out the mouth of the Prav'sudja, coat flapping. He stopped in front of them and handed Aevryn a paper.

"What is this?" he asked as he took it.

"A call to court."

"I heard the trial date in there just like everyone else," he said, unfolding it.

"It's for a different trial. Your apprentice's."

M'yu drew back. "What?"

Aevryn held up a hand, still scanning the paper. "Based on what evidence?"

"It's in the papers." With a twisted smile, Dymtrus turned on his heel and left.

"Get in the hover," Aevryn muttered to M'yu.

He scrambled inside. A quick button tap closed the doors behind them, and M'yu typed their address into the console while Aevryn read. M'yu's teeth bounced on the edge of his lip. "What does it say?"

"Hush." Aevryn's eyes flicked over the page as the hover whirred down the mountain. Finally, he crumpled the paper back into the letter. "It's borderline slander, is what it is."

"Can't you prosecute him for slander?"

"Can I or can't I? You're the one who's supposed to have been studying."

M'yu swallowed, flicking in his mind through the hundreds of pages he'd read over the last month. "It depends on the type of evidence and how much substantiation they have."

"Correct. And this"—he smacked the envelope—"barely gives us any information at all. It's that girl, I'm telling you."

"She wouldn't turn on me."

"You said that last time."

M'yu rubbed his arm, looking out the window. His stomach roiled. "If that's all it is, it's hearsay."

"And is that all it is?"

"You know it's not," M'yu bit.

"Which is why you are going to be perfect from now on."

"I have been!" he protested.

"More than perfect," Aevryn said. "Everyone in that school I call to testify better be able to tell me what a wonderful student you are, how you help everyone in need, how you make charities look like villains."

"I don't talk to anyone at school."

"Start. And impress them."

"What happened to focusing on Washfall?"

"We won't get to Washfall if they convict you before then!" Aevryn shook the envelope.

"Alright," M'yu said. "I'll work harder. I'll make an impression on the teachers."

"Make an impression on the students," Aevryn said. "At least one. You said it yourself, at the Tsaright's dinner—the one with the best testimony is the one with something to lose by giving it. The other students want you to fail; if you fail, and you're one less person for them to beat at Washfall. Do you understand?"

M'yu's jaw tightened, and he stared out over the city.

"Do you understand?"

He blew a breath out through his lips. "I understand. But Ruslan's not going to like it."

"Ruslan doesn't like anything," Aevryn muttered.

"I thought you said muttering was a bad habit."

"And correcting people isn't going to win you any friends at school."

M'yu rolled his eyes and went back to staring out the window. Figuring out how to deal with Ruslan wasn't Aevryn's problem. He had a Tsaright to take down.

M'yu could handle one bully.

Aevryn rubbed his hands together. "I have one more thing you're not going to like."

M'yu narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"You said that hearsay wasn't all it was. I need to know every little thing that girl knows about you, anything she could use to incriminate you."

M'yu drew back. "No way."

"If there's any truth to it, then I need to track it down and protect you from it, M'yu."

"What about protecting you from it? You don't know, they can't ask you."

"That's a weak argument, and you know it—or at least you'd better. They will put you on the stand, and they will ask you."

"I don't have to answer."

"You have to make a plea."

"Then I'll plead not guilty, because I didn't do anything it didn't take to survive."

Aevryn rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"You knew who I was when you picked me up," M'yu protested.

"Thefts." Aevryn looked at him past his fingers. "You promise me that's all there was to it?"

"Yes." Blood flashed in M'yu's mind, that dark night, that dead man. His mother on the street, whispering, Do they know? Ice crept in and curled around M'yu's stomach. "That's all there was."

Aevryn nodded slowly. "And who else knew about it?"

M'yu rubbed his hands together, looking away. "The other kids in my gang, I guess, but they're not going to testify against me. They're too smart to get themselves arrested."

"And they'll stay underground when people come looking?"

"No, they'll welcome the Caps with open arms," he scoffed.

"And if that girl comes calling?"

Air puffed from his lips like he'd been punched in the gut. He knew Karsya; he knew the glitter in her eye that spelled mischief, the saunter in her step when she was about to pull off the impossible, the gentle tilt of her head as she listened to people's deepest fears and kissed away children's scrapes. He knew she would never endanger anyone in their group—or he had known.

He swallowed a lump in his throat. "If I put word out that there's a rat on the streets, they'll steer clear of her."

"You're not going anywhere near the Gloam. Tell me how to do it. I'll send one of the servants to get word out."

M'yu's eyes flicked over the man, wondering what else he might use that information for. On the street, accusations of a rat weren't to be taken lightly; they made people look over their shoulders, made them doubt the ones they trusted the most. They broke up families.

"But our family's already broke," he muttered.

"What was that?"

M'yu looked up. "Tell them M'yu wasn't the only one who ran to the Caps. They'll keep their mouth shut after that."

"You're sure?"

M'yu shoved his hands in his pockets. He wasn't sure about any of this.