Page 17

He left me without a word and accepted the arena-master’s axe.

Now the Council means to give me back as breeding stock.

Anger steadies what disbelief threatens to scatter.

“No,” I say.

The word crosses the chamber cleanly.

Several Matrons lean forward. The one with the capped horn bares the points of her teeth.

Zira descends another step. “This is a decree, not an offer.”

“Then you did not require my answer.”

“We required your presence.”

“To hear who owns me next?”

“To understand the terms governing your future.”

“My future already had terms. I worked. I traded. I kept people alive.”

“You did so because the western district permitted it. Permission is not independence.”

The cruelty lies in the accuracy.

Every jar in my apothecary can be confiscated by a demon house. Every jeton can be declared payment owed upward. My registration grants me the privilege of working until someone with greater rank assigns me another purpose.

I always knew the shape of my freedom.

Knowing does not make the cage less real when its door closes.

“Did Draxon request this?” I ask.

Zira returns to the central throne. “Lord Obsidius will receive the same decree.”

That is not an answer.

He may have asked for me. He may have offered my name after rejecting the Council’s other choices. A decade is enough time for a demon to decide an abandoned human would make convenient breeding stock.

It is also possible he knows nothing.

I hate that possibility more because it leaves room for hope, and hope has already made a fool of me once.

“When does this bond occur?”

“The formal acknowledgment begins today. Additional terms will be delivered within House Obsidius.”

“And if no child results?”

“That matter will be addressed if it arises.”

The Council sees a healthy human body, an old bloodline, and an office it wants secured. Affection has no place in the calculation. Demons possess no marriage tradition requiring it. This bond is law, property, and breeding dressed in ceremony.

I look across the seven thrones and find no path through them.

The great doors open behind me.