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Vaerith steps closer as the guards guide me into the hall. “You are very composed for a woman being contained.”

“I find panic administratively inefficient.”

His mouth curves, but anger sits behind it. “Still amusing yourself.”

“Someone should.”

The ward pressure tightens around my arms hard enough to ache.

He walks beside me through the corridor while the guards flank us. Sigils flare overhead as we pass, one after another, illuminating the polished floor in pulses of red and white. Servants flatten themselves into alcoves. Scribes turn their faces away. No one wants to witness the exact moment a useful ward becomes property.

“You called Syrenya,” Vaerith says.

“I followed protocol.”

“You sought an audience.”

“I sought a witness.”

“You sought leverage.”

“That too.”

He laughs softly. “Honesty arrives late.”

“It prefers dramatic entrances.”

His gaze cuts toward me, cold and sharp. “You mistake insolence for courage.”

“No, my lord. I know the difference. Insolence is easier.”

The guard on my left makes the mistake of almost smiling.

Vaerith sees it.

The guard stops breathing comfortably.

We reach the east tower confinement room at the end of a narrow hall lined with warded iron bands. I have seen the room in floor plans, but never from the threshold. Its door is dark oak reinforced with black metal, and the chamber beyond glows faintly with containment script. The air that spills from it tastes like iron filings and old rain trapped in a sealed cup.

My stomach tightens.

I step inside before the guard can shove me.

The room is small and round, with no windows, no furniture except a narrow bench, and a ward circle etched into the floor in dull silver. The walls hum softly. The iron taste coats my tongue at once, drying my mouth and making every breath feel measured by someone else.

Vaerith stops at the threshold.

“Your satchel will be examined,” he says.

“Enjoy the ration adjustments.”

“Your chamber will be searched.”

“Please tell Senreth the wardrobe hinge sticks. It has offended me for years.”

“You are not leaving this room tonight.”

“I gathered that from the décor.”