Thora’s POV
The courtroom reeked of high-quality lumber and nerves.
I had been in it once before, several years ago, when a traffic ticket was required. I laughed with Quentin that day after the fact at how the entire place was a bad TV set. But today wasn’t a ticket. Today wasn’t a joke. Today was my life.
And my daughter’s.
My lawyer and I passed through the metal detectors and my heart was racing so fast that I wanted to tell the guards they could hear it. My hands were damp and my throat parched. I had selected my best black suit, smoothed out my heels, twisted up my hair. Armor. I needed armor.
Arguing though only served so far when your innards were made of glass.
The smaller size of the courtroom surprised me. Rows of benches. A raised desk for the judge. Too glaring lig
