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"The law remains clear," the lord says.

"Clarity has never troubled House Obsidius before," Korgath answers. "Its master simply forgot he was subject to it."

Their eyes travel toward me again.

The bone-white guard beside me shifts his spear. The movement is small, but Korgath notices. Satisfaction briefly replaces contempt.

Even now, my influence becomes evidence against Draxon. A guard I treated reacts to an insult against me. A house servant speaks of our private conduct. Every connection I built inside the spire can be twisted into proof that I exceeded my assigned place.

The chamber doors stay shut.

Time becomes a sequence of lightning flashes through the upper galleries.

At the first, Draxon faces the empty thrones.

At the fifth, he turns his head enough to find me.

Silver eyes meet mine across the court.

Distance and discipline conceal his response. The arena-master's control remains intact, the same merciless composure he wore above the red sand before carrying out a sentence. Yet his attention never leaves me until the deliberation doors open.

Seven Matrons return.

The court rises in waves. Wings fold. Horned heads bow. Humans kneel along the wall, forced downward by owners' hands or the habit of survival.

I remain standing.

The guard at my right murmurs, "Beatrix."

Warning, not command.

I keep my eyes on Zira.

Her ivory carapace reflects the crimson sigils beneath the thrones. Silver-white hair falls over her shoulders, untouched by the dust that coats the rest of us. The intricate carvings along her horns cast thin shadows across her temples. She mounts the central platform with her dark metal staff in one hand.

The other Matrons take their seats.

Zira remains standing.

Her staff strikes the floor once.

Every voice ends.

"The Council of Seven examined Royal Edict Seventeen, the testimony presented, and Lord Obsidius's own declaration," she says. "The edict is authentic, binding, and applicable to the breeding assignment created by this Council."

My fingers close around the sides of my skirt.

Zira looks down at Draxon.

"The conduct described devotion beyond contractual protection. Lord Obsidius has publicly affirmed that Beatrix Ferryman stands as his equal rather than his property. Such affirmation establishes an affectionate human mate-bond under the meaning of the edict."

The nobles lean forward.

Draxon lifts his chin. His horns frame him against the black platform, one broken, the others still carrying the rank the Council is about to take.

"The union is proven," Zira says. "It is also unlawful."

The staff strikes again.