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"The breeding assignment between Lord Draxon Obsidius and the human Beatrix Ferryman is void from this judgment. No legal bond remains between them. The human returns immediately to Council disposition pending reassignment."

My hand finds empty air beside me.

There was never a chain I could touch. No marriage vow. No law that called me partner rather than breeder. I fought the assignment from the first moment, crushed its flower, and refused to let it define what existed between us.

Now the Council tears it away, and the loss leaves nowhere inside me untouched.

Zira continues.

"Draxon Obsidius is stripped of appointment as arena-master of Storm-Crest. He no longer carries the authority to enforce Council sentences, command the Grand Arena, or bear its executioner's axe."

A murmur rises from the galleries before her staff silences it.

Arena-master has been the name demons use more often than Draxon's own. The title made his violence lawful and his presence unavoidable in every dispute the Council wanted ended. It gave him the power he accepted to keep me from House Grolnok.

They remove it in less than a breath.

Two arena guards descend from the side platform. One carries Draxon's black axe across both arms.

Draxon reaches to the crystal vial at his belt. For an instant, I think they mean to take the grounded lightning as well. He unfastens the axe clasp beside it and places the weapon into the guard's hands.

The guard bows to the Council, not to him.

Zira reads the next penalty.

"All lands, holdings, revenues, contracts, and household authority belonging to House Obsidius return to the Crown. Its guards and servants are released from Draxon Obsidius's command. Its archives, stores, weapons, and living quarters will be sealed until the Crown appoints a successor house."

The iron-grey guard beside me lowers his spear.

The House Obsidius mark remains on his armor, but it no longer carries Draxon's authority. My solarium belongs to the Crown now. The shelves, the metallic beds, the drying fylvek, and every trade agreement bearing the house seal can be closed with one order.

Miana, Jory, Grolm, Telen, Zog, and Vulmar all lose the structure that held them together. Their lives become holdings to be reassigned with the rooms they occupied.

My apothecary was never truly mine.

The law has found another way to prove it.

Zira's red eyes return to Draxon.

"The final penalty is permanent exile from Galmoleth. It begins immediately."

The chamber erupts.

Some nobles shout approval. Others demand to know who will control the arena. A Trolvor strikes one wing against the gallery rail. Humans remain silent beneath the noise because none of the questions concern what becomes of us.

Zira raises her staff.

"The sentence takes legal effect now. Draxon Obsidius will remain under Council guard in his former study until dawn, when he will be escorted to the lower gate. Any return to Galmoleth will constitute defiance of royal authority and will be punished by death."

Immediate in law, with only hours before removal. Time enough for guards to strip his study, not enough to secure the servants or the archive. No chance to stand together and decide what this loss means.

Four Council guards surround the black circle.

Draxon looks past them to me.

I cannot read surrender in his posture. I cannot claim defiance either. He gives the guards no struggle as they form around him, and he offers the Council no words to use against anyone else.

Korgath watches from beneath the gallery, his red eye bright with victory.