The silence in the Council Chamber was heavy, pressing against my eardrums like deep water.
Sibal sat in his high-backed chair, his face a mask of pale, frozen shock. The ledger, my black book of damnation sat on the obsidian table in front of Councilman Herman.
It was a small book. Unassuming. Leather-bound, smelling of Sibal’s private study. But inside, it held enough ink to drown them all.
"This is ridiculous," Sibal said, his voice finding a semblance of its usual oily cadence, though it cracked on the last syllable. "The girl is a thief. She stole a personal diary and is trying to pass it off as a financial record."
"It has dates," Herman noted, flipping a page with a long, manicured finger. "It has routing numbers. It has signatures."
He looked up, his eyes hard.
"And it has wi
