Page 177 of Maksym

I thought of all the women I had put on stands who had been asked to choose between loyalty and fact. Between the person they loved and the thing that person did. It was a cruel business, testimony. Sometimes necessary. Often merciless.

But mercy that hid truth was not mercy. It was collusion dressed kindly.

“No further questions,” I said.

I returned to the defense table.

My legs felt steady. That surprised me less than it would have a week ago. Many things about my body had changed. Many things about me had not. I knew how to walk back to a table after extracting what a case required from a grieving woman.

The prosecution did not redirect Loralee.

Smart man.

He had already lost more than he understood.

Loralee left the stand with her arms wrapped around herself.

The Magistrate turned to the prosecution.

“Do you have further witnesses?”

For the first time since the proceeding began, his polish looked thin.

“No, Honored Magistrate. The prosecution rests.”

The chamber fell silent.

The Magistrate’s voice filled the chamber.

“We will observe a brief recess.”

Recess did not release the chamber so much as fracture it.

The Magistrate’s staff struck the floor. The formal words were spoken, and suddenly all that contained stillness broke into movement. Robes shifted. Benches creaked. Low voices rose and were quickly swallowed by stone.

I closed my portfolio before standing.

The side hallway beyond the chamber was narrow compared with the vastness we had left behind. Its marble floor carried every footstep forward and backward until it sounded as though twice as many people moved through it as actually did.

Maddie stepped into the hallway ahead of Nikolay, her face still arranged in the court-composed shape she had worn through testimony. Then she looked toward the gallery spillover near the far archway.

Everything in her changed.

Her mouth parted. Her eyes lit up in a way that had nothing to do with fear. For one suspended second, she looked younger—not in age, but in relation. A sister before she was a witness. A woman who had held herself upright until the sight of someone safe made holding unnecessary.

Then she ran. Not walked quickly. Ran.

Her heels struck marble hard enough to echo. Nikolay moved after her at once, not to stop her, only to follow the line of her need.

The man she launched herself at was enormous. Silver threaded his dark hair heavily enough that, from a distance, it appeared almost silver altogether beneath the hallway light. Broad shoulders. Straight-backed posture. The unmistakable gravity of command. Beside him stood a smaller blonde woman, beautiful and tense, one hand lifting toward her mouth as Maddie crossed the distance.

Maddie hit the man’s chest with enough force that any normal human would have staggered. He did not.

He caught her as if he had been braced for the impact his whole life, arms closing around her with such immediate force that my throat tightened.

“Bronc,” Taras said quietly beside me.

I looked at him. Of course.