They did not accuse her of anything. That is what makes it lawful.
Ardenhale recognises the writ — full faith and credit, unconditional, a gift. The north cheers for an hour. Maren Ashcombe reads it twice and knows exactly what it is, because recognition means the kingdom now has a form for her instrument, and a clerk to keep the form, and opinions about who may sign it.
Then the Lord Surveyor lodges an instrument of attainder against his own daughter. No fault alleged. No penalty sought. No answer sought either — the first operative clause is that she has no standing to answer it.
If a person can be made by a hand, she can be unmade by one. And where two hands conflict, the elder charter governs.
Strike Maren Ashcombe and every finding, certificate and signature in her name is of no effect from the day it was made. The writ falls. The half of Vare’s name at her throat stops being legible. Seven thousand people go unwrit in the same hour.
She has forty days — because to strike a name, Ardenhale must first write it down. For the first time in twenty-six years Maren Ashcombe is a person in the eyes of the kingdom that is erasing her, and there is one small old clause, drawn for foundlings and shipwrecks, that she can reach with the standing they handed her.
It will not save her. It will save four thousand one hundred and eighty-eight other people, and it will hand their country to the crown for ever, and she knows both things before she picks up the pen.
The Attainder of Hands is Book Three of The Long Truce, a four-book epic werewolf romantasy. Dual POV. War, occupation, and a bond that has to learn to speak out loud.