Page 61 of Innocent Until Proven Witch

"That's the best you have?"

His jaw tightens. The room grows increasingly uncomfortable. Good. It should.

Row tugs my sleeve again. "Finn."

I pull free. Not yet. Not this time. For too long everyone has been taking the easiest answer available. The convenient answer. The answer that requires the least amount of thought.

Aldric finally speaks. His voice arrives calmly, measured, and the room immediately settles.

Aldric folds his hands. "I don't believe anyone here is acting maliciously."

The statement sounds reasonable, designed to calm tempers. Several council members visibly relax. Aldric continues. "Fear influences people." He glances toward me, then toward the others. "However, Mr. Blackwater raises an interesting point."

My eyes narrow. Aldric rarely agrees with anyone. Especially not publicly.

The harbor elder sighs. "What if Reina truly doesn't understand what she's doing?"

The chamber grows quiet. I already hate where this is going.

Aldric leans forward slightly. "What if the damage is unintentional?"

Several council members exchange thoughtful looks. The shift happens immediately. Not guilty. Dangerous. The accusation changes shape. Not the destination, only the route.

"No." I react.

He looks toward me. "Why not?"

"Because she's innocent." The answer leaves my mouth without hesitation.

Aldric studies me, patiently, almost kindly. The act irritates me. "What evidence do you have?" he asks.

I nearly laugh. The irony is unbelievable.

"What evidence do you have?" I retort swiftly.

Several council members shift uncomfortably. Aldric's expression never changes. "We have concerns."

"There it is." I point toward him. "Every conversation ends there."

The room goes silent again. I carry on. "Concerns. Suspicions. Rumors. Fear." I shake my head. "None of that is proof."

The older councilman slams his palm against the table. "We are trying to protect Moonhaven."

"So am I!" The answer arrives immediately, my voice echoing through the chamber.

The councilman glares. "So why are you defending her?"

The question hangs heavily in the room, because everyone wants the same answer. I look around the chamber—at the people calling themselves leaders, at the people choosing convenience over truth. Then I answer honestly.

"Because she's right."

The sudden silence feels absolute. Aldric finally leans back, his expression unreadable. Then he says quietly, "I think emotions have begun clouding your judgment."

The statement lands exactly as intended. Several council members nod immediately. Others avoid looking at me altogether. Cowards.

The older councilman points toward the door. "Then perhaps Mr. Blackwater should leave."

A few voices agree. Then more. The momentum builds quickly, not because they're convinced, but because I'm inconvenient. Because questioning the narrative complicates things.