Page 192 of Maksym

A silence followed that no staff needed to enforce.

Grace did not gloat. I loved her for that, too.

She let Sloan’s admission stand not as performance, but as evidence. Terrible evidence. People did great harm most easily when they believed themselves benevolent. Cruelty announced itself less often than righteousness did.

“Did Madelyn know the wine was altered?”

“No.”

“Did she agree to drink something that would affect her judgment?”

“No.”

“Did she seem capable of making fully informed decisions after drinking it?”

“No.”

Grace stepped back from the lectern by half a pace.

Not retreat.

Repositioning.

“Now let us discuss the night of the festival.”

Sloan’s breathing changed.

The chamber changed with it.

Even Lucian, in the gallery, had gone still. His repaired smile remained in place, but it no longer looked effortless. Pain and interest had stripped some of the polish from him. He understood forced rituals. He understood altered consent. He understood humans and others made pliable for stronger creatures’ convenience. Perhaps he heard echoes he did not like entering the record.

Good.

“Were you with the elders when Madelyn was taken from the party?” Grace asked.

“No.”

“Where were you?”

“Near the main fire. Speaking with others.”

“Did you know the elders intended to take her to the clearing?”

“No.”

“Did you know there was an altar prepared?”

“No.”

“Did you know she would be restrained?”

“No.”

“Did you know Sage intended to perform a forced-bond ritual?”

Sloan’s face twisted. “No.”

The truth spell held steady.