CHAPTER 5 - MEDRA
The day of the Tribunal dawned cold and gray, as if the last pieces of summer had been sucked away overnight, skipping autumn, and going straight to the cusp of winter.
I’dd already decided on what I would wear the night before. I dressed quickly, running a brush through my hair and then leaving it in a cloud around my shoulders. My red curls marked me. There was no hiding who I was. So why bother taming it or toning it down?
There was a knock at the door. Headmaster Kim had told me he would be my escort to the Black Keep where the tribunal would be held.
It was time. I grabbed my cloak and pulled it on quickly.
Half an hour later, we stood on the isle of the Black Keep, inside the Tribunal Chamber. The chamber was further within the keep than I had been before. Circular, with high stone walls, the chamber seemed to stretch endlessly upwards.
A single, massive chandelier hung in the center of the ceiling, lined with hundreds of white candles. At the front of the room, elevated above the rest of us, sat the Tribunal Panel in a tiered wooden enclosure. Each panel member wore a long black robe, accented only with a subtle touch of their house colors.
There were eight tribunal members, but four may as well have not existed at all. Four were the regents of Sangratha–the four heads of the great houses. For all intents and purposes, they controlled everything. The other four were randomly selected from other noble but relatively minor highblood families. Only the four house leaders held permanent seats on each tribunal.
In the very center of the chamber sat a single chair made of iron. It did not particularly encourage me to see the chair was bolted to the floor. Heavy chains dangled ominously from the armrests, making me wonder what kinds of people were usually brought before the Tribunal.
I swallowed hard as Headmaster Kim led me down the main aisle towards the Tribunal Panel. Around us on either side, in rising tiers, were seated rows upon rows of highbloods. Onlookers to my trial.
There seemed to be an excellent turn out. The room was filled to the brim and loud with the buzz of their murmurs, reminding me of a swarm of hungry wasps.
Across from the iron chair and to the left of the wooden enclosure that held the panel-members stood a solitary podium. Headmaster Kim had explained on the way over that the highblood who had been appointed Arbiter would stand at this podium, overseeing the proceedings and acting as a neutral party. But the Tribunal Panel held the real power. Four held the most. And perhaps even two above all.
I scanned the room, my eyes going towards the Tribunal Panel and the people who would decide my fate today. Viktor Drakharrow sat in the front row, his crimson eyes glowing faintly as he watched me approach. He wore the customary black robes, only his had blood-red lapels embroidered with the Drakharrow motto to indicate his house. As if there would be any mistaking who he was.
To his right sat Lord Garrick Mortis, Catherine’s father. I’d seen him once before, that first day in the Black Keep. Now I inspected him more closely. Lord Mortis was a towering figure. His broad shoulders and thick chest tugged at the seams of the black tribunal robe. His pale face was scarred, the mark of a blade slashing diagonally across his cheekbone to his temple. He looked back at me grimly from behind a thick silver beard. Everything about him radiated a tough, brutal authority. I suspected I would find no ally here.
Lord Mortis’s robes had white lapels and the Mortis house motto was inscribed on them in red: Mortem Excito. I summon death.
Next to him was seated an elegant, petite woman. I knew this must be Kage’s grandmother and Natsumi’s mother-in-law, Lady Elaria Avari. Lady Avari’s long, silver-white hair was pinned up with jeweled combs, framing her heart-shaped face. Her dark brown eyes held a cleverness and warmth that Viktor and Lord Mortis’ both sorely lacked. This woman clearly missed nothing, calculated everything.
Elaria’s fingers were covered with rings set with diamonds and onyx. Around her throat hung a heavy half-moon pendant made of silver that reminded me of the necklace Kage had given to me. She touched a hand to the silver lapels of her black robe, stroking the embroidered motto inscribed there: Luna Sanguinea Surgit. Blood Moon Rises. For the first time I wondered what the significance of the moon was to House Avari exactly.
I didn’t recognize any of the four highbloods sitting in the second row so I skipped over them, moving to the last of the four front seats. A jolt of surprise passed through me. Lysander Orphos sat there. I’d no idea he was the leader of House Orphos beyond the walls of Bloodwing Academy. All of the other House Leaders were much older, formidable figures steeped in authority. Lysander, with his softer expression and delicate features, seemed distinctly out of place. Not because he lacked presence, but simply because he was so much younger.
The House Orphos leader’s long, silver-white hair was down in loose waves around his shoulders, falling over the purple silk of the lapels of his robe. I couldn’t make out the motto written there, but I didn’t need to. I’d seen it before, on the tapestries at Bloodwing. The Orphos motto was Sanguis Somniatorum . Blood of Dreamers.
Lysander glanced at me briefly but then his eyes flitted away. I watched as he frowned, following his gaze to a young girl seated in one of the upper tiers of the gallery.
Lunaya Orphos’s skin seemed to radiate its own soft glow. Like her brother, her silver-blonde-hair fell in a sleek curtain, straight down her back. Her features were delicate, sweet, and almost otherworldly. An upturned small nose, soft lips curved in a dreamy, half-smile, and wide innocent eyes.
Lunaya’s hands were clasped together in her lap, her head tilted slightly as she looked up at the man speaking to her.
I felt a prickle cross my skin as I recognized him. Marcus Drakharrow.
Blake’s elder brother leaned over Lysander’s sister, his muscular, hulking frame dwarfing her small one. To me, Marcus seemed to exude menace. But it was clear that Lunaya didn’t see it. Instead, she smiled and blushed as Marcus said something and grinned down at her.
I glanced back at Lysander. His hands gripped the armrests of his chair tightly. It was obvious he didn’t appreciate Marcus speaking to his younger sister, especially when he couldn’t be there beside her.
Headmaster Kim touched my arm as if to tell me to pick up my pace and I realized I’d been dawdling.
As we reached the iron chair in the center of the chamber, my heart sped up. I couldn’t take my eyes off those iron chains. I glanced at Kim. He looked bored if anything. Not as if he were about to chain me to the chair.
Taking a deep breath, I pulled off my cloak and hung it over the back of the chair, then sat down swiftly.
A ripple of excitement spread through the gallery as my arrival was noticed. Highbloods leaned forward in their seats, whispering to one another, their expressions ranging from curious to outrightly hostile as they peered down at me.
I kept my head high and my hands in my lap, careful not to touch the chains.
Headmaster Kim stood awkwardly beside me for a moment. Then he cleared his throat and moved away. Apparently his part in this little drama was over.
The Tribunal Panel rose above me, a wall of black robed authority. Viktor’s glowing crimson eyes burned into mine, angry as always, yet constantly assessing. I forced a small smile, determined not to reveal my unease.
I shouldn’t goad him. I knew that. But it was impossible to resist. I moved my hands to smooth out the wrinkles in my skirt. Gray wool. I touched a hand to the collar of the shirt I wore tucked into it. Blue linen. The colors of a First Year student. Not the colors of a girl belonging to House Drakharrow–or to Lord Drakharrow’s nephew.
Was it my imagination or were Lady Avari’s lips twitching in amusement as she looked me over?
I risked a glance behind me. In the first row of seats, I caught sight of Theo sitting next to Blake. His dark, honey-blond hair fell around his pale face. When our eyes met, he smiled a small, encouraging smile. It was meant to reassure me, I knew, but the nervous set of his jaw betrayed him. Was Theo nervous for me? Or for himself?
Blake seemed determined to ignore me, which was fine by me. He stared past me as if he were bored, slouched low in his seat, his long legs spread wide, his fingers tapping the armrests of his chair.
Movement drew my eye and I stiffened as a tall, slender figure rose from the crowd a few rows back. Regan Pansera.
She sauntered across the floor towards the Tribunal Panel audaciously, hips swaying back and forth, looking as if she thought she owned the place.
My gaze followed her as she ascended the short steps to the Tribunal Panel box. She wore a tight dress of pale lilac that hugged her body, showing off every curve. I watched as she bent over, purposely sticking her ass out so everyone in the audience had a great view. Then she leaned in close to Viktor Drakharrow, her lips moving in a whisper.
I couldn’t hear what she said, but I didn’t need to. The indulgent smile Viktor gave her said enough. Seeing Viktor smile like that —a real, genuine smile directed at Regan of all people—made my stomach turn.
Regan giggled softly, then brushed Viktor’s arm with her hand before stepping back down. I couldn’t believe she’d voluntarily touched the creepy old man.
She took her time crossing the floor, as if trying to ensure every single person in the room noticed her. As she passed by me, she slowed deliberately, her lips curling into a self-satisfied smile.
I ignored her, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.
The low hum of voices in the chamber fell silent abruptly. I looked up to see a highblood man striding towards the podium. This must be the Arbiter.
My heart sank. Shit. I recognized him at once. Regan’s father. Lord Pansera.
Dressed in the same black robes as the Tribunal Panel but devoid of any house markings, Lord Pansera stepped up behind the podium and fixed me with a cold stare, then struck the podium with the flat of his knuckles. The sound echoed through the chamber.
“This tribunal will now come to order,” he announced loudly.
I could feel all of the highbloods behind me turn their eyes towards the podium.
What was Blake thinking right now? Did he have any real idea of what the outcome would be today?
“We are gathered here today to determine the rightful claim over the dragon known as Nyxaris and, by extension, the fate of the girl responsible for the creature’s awakening.” Lord Pansera sneered slightly as he said the word girl , as if I were nothing but a sour taste on his tongue.
He gestured towards the Tribunal Panel. “The esteemed members of our panel have been entrusted with determining the best course of action.”
The most powerful people in the land and the ones least likely to have any sort of ability to be neutral would make decisions about a dragon who had shown he had absolutely no intention of listening to another highblood.
But sure, it made perfect sense. After all, no one had ever claimed Sangratha was a fair or rational kind of place.
“We will begin by hearing the claims of the houses directly involved.” Lord Pansera turned slightly, addressing Elaria Avari. “Lady Avari, you may state your house’s claim.”
Elaria Avari rose gracefully to her feet and stepped to the front of the box, placing her ringed hands on the wooden edge. Turning towards the crowded tiers of seats, she gave a small smile.
“Honored citizens of Sangratha and members of the Tribunal,” she began. “House Avari’s claim is both simple and undeniable. Nyxaris is a Duskdrake. A dragon bred and flown exclusively by House Avari in ages past. For generations, our house was steward to these magnificent creatures. Their legacy is tied to our own.”
She paused, her gaze sweeping across the assembled crowd. “The dragon’s awakening is no accident. House Avari has been selected to lead Sangratha into a new age. An age of dragons.”
A shiver passed over me.
Lady Avari raised her arms theatrically. “Join us. Join Nyxaris. This dragon is ours by right of history, blood, and tradition.” Then she inclined her head graciously and returned to her seat.
I thought Elaria’s speech was a little presumptuous. But at least she hadn’t suggested executing me.
A quiet murmur of approval from the gallery rose up from behind me.
Lady Avari was certainly no Viktor Drakharrow. But it didn’t matter if I liked her or not. She was staking claim to a dragon she had no control over. Like almost every highblood I’d met here, her arrogance was boundless.
Lord Pansera turned to Viktor next, lowering his head respectfully—something, I noticed, he had not bothered to do for Lady Avari. So much for neutrality. “Lord Drakharrow, state House Drakharrow’s position, if you will.”
I thought back to that first day in the Black Keep when Viktor had essentially sat upon a throne with the other three regents standing around him. Now he sat in the tribunal box, as if he were only their equal—not their superior. But it was all an act, wasn’t it? He resided in the Black Keep, after all. He ruled this land in all but name.
And yet if House Avari was completely lacking in power, surely there would have been no need for the Tribunal. Viktor would have been able to do whatever he wanted. So there was some hope left–if you could call it that. Some sort of a power struggle was obviously happening, even if it was behind the scenes. I had to admit, part of me was hoping to see House Avari show some real pull here today. But for now, I bit my lip as Viktor rose to his feet.
“My lords and ladies,” he began. He smiled smoothly at the crowd and I just about choked. I’d never seen him try to be charming before. “House Drakharrow’s claim is equally clear, if not more so. Medra Pendragon, the lone dragon rider of Sangratha, is betrothed to my nephew, Blake Drakharrow, the Black Prince. This betrothal cements her allegiance to our house.”
For the first time I wondered about the whole “prince” thing. If Blake was a prince, did that mean Theo was, too? Was Catherine Mortis considered a “princess” of her house? I remembered what Professor Hassan had said last year about the Era of Pretenders, where each of the four houses had tried to set up their own royal courts. Perhaps that was where the tradition of giving royal titles stemmed from.
I forced myself to focus on what Vikor was saying.
“By extension, whatever action Miss Pendragon should happen to take, whether intentional or not, reflects upon House Drakharrow.”
He let the words hang for a moment and I heard murmurs of agreement.
He turned his crimson gaze towards me, his expression inscrutable. “Miss Pendragon’s bloodline is clearly that of a rider. The last known rider to exist in our realm. What an incredible thing, is it not?”
Again, the murmurs of agreement. Was he actually trying to get these people on my side?
“This rare and precious lineage binds her to the traditions of dragonkind. And as she is bound to my nephew, Blake, her actions are inseparable from House Drakharrow’s interests.”
I clenched my jaw. Where exactly was Viktor going with this?
Viktor paused, letting his words sink in. “Therefore, it is House Drakharrow’s claim that Nyxaris awakened only because of Miss Pendragon’s bond to Blake. A bond forged by blood and by tradition. Without the existence of that bond, there would have been no awakening.”
I couldn’t help it. I gasped aloud. Of course he’d take this route. I should have expected it.
Viktor smiled down at me. To anyone else, that smile might even have seemed paternal.
“House Drakharrow’s influence clearly extends to this remarkable event. And therefore, the dragon is ours by all rights, for so is its rider,” Viktor concluded.
My body was trembling with fury. How dare he? How dare they ? For surely Blake was a part of this. The dragon hadn’t awakened because of Blake. If anything, it had awoken in spite of him.
My mind raced as I fought to keep myself in check.
Lord Pansera turned to the assembly of highbloods as Viktor resumed his seat. “We have heard the claims of House Avari and House Drakharrow. We will now hear propositions for a resolution to this matter. Lord Mortis, the floor is yours.”
The room fell silent as Catherine’s father rose. He towered over the Tribunal Panel, his scarred face and heavy frame wafting pure highblood power.
“Lords and ladies,” he began, his voice deep and gruff. “Honored members of the Tribunal. House Mortis has always valued pragmatism above all else. For centuries, we have relied on reason to guide our decisions, ensuring our survival and prosperity. It is only after great deliberation that I present the position of my house.”
He had been away when Nyxaris had awakened, making a tour of his estates. It sounded as if House Mortis had a great many properties. Had Catherine been with him? I wondered if Lord Mortis had consulted with his daughter before speaking today.
Garrick Mortis looked over at me and I sat a little straighter. “When this woman first appeared, I suggested she be executed or mated with a highblood to secure her allegiance and ensure her bloodline remained within our control. I believed it was the simplest solution and so I did not disagree with Lord Drakharrow when he proposed betrothing her to his nephew.”
My stomach twisted. They spoke of me as if I weren’t even a person. Simply a bloodline to be used and preserved. I wondered when exactly the talk of breeding would start. I had to admit I was somewhat surprised it hadn’t already. Now there was a lovely thought. Bearing Blake’s children. Children who Viktor would no doubt try to use and manipulate for his own purposes.
Over my dead body. They were in for a rude awakening if they thought I’d ever allow it.
Lord Mortis paused. His scarred face tightened as if the next words were difficult to admit. “But I was wrong.”
I froze.
“The truth is,” he continued. “The dragons should never have been brought back. The power they represent is far too great for any one house to yield. For over a century, we have maintained a delicate truce.”
I remembered what I had learned about the Dragon Wars and shivered. House Mortis had once allied with House Avari. Was Lord Mortis turning his back on his ally now?
“Add to that the risk of rebellion...” Lord Mortis cut himself off sharply, as if he had said too much.
Rebellion? I shifted in my seat, trying not to look eager at having heard the word.
But Lord Mortis was moving on. He gestured to me with a blunt motion of one hand. “The solution is clear. This girl must be destroyed. The dragon should be hunted down and destroyed with her. That is the only way to ensure such a vast power does not fall into the wrong hands.”
The tribunal chamber erupted.
Death? My chest tightened, my breath catching in my throat. Was that really going to be today’s outcome?
I glanced at Viktor Drakharrow. The highblood was practically shaking with rage. Evidently Lord Mortis’s words had come as a shock to him, too.
I thought of my mother, trapped in the dagger I had left back in the tower room. I wouldn’t even have a chance to set her free if they executed me after the Tribunal today. Or would they give me a few days to prepare for my fate?
I risked glancing behind me. Blake was on his feet, his face a storm of fury.
“You’re insane!” he shouted, his voice echoing off the stone walls of the chamber. I flinched.
Theo slowly stood up beside him, his face pale but his jaw set. He put a hand on his cousin’s shoulder, his knuckles white.
My gaze swept further down the row. For the first time I noticed Kage. He sat beside his mother. Both were calm. Poised. If either one was surprised or angered by Lord Mortis’s declaration they weren’t showing it.
As if he’d felt my eyes on him, Kage turned his head. His eyes met mine. He stared back at me, unshakable as marble and just as unreadable. His crescent-moon tattoo curled up the side of his neck, peeking out from just above the collar of the black tailored suit he wore.
Lord Pansera’s voice cut through the din and for once I was grateful to hear it. “That’s enough,” he shouted, bringing the chamber back to a semblance of quiet. “Thank you, Lord Mortis, for establishing your house’s position. Lysander Orphos will now speak for House Orphos.”
Lysander rose from his seat. He adjusted the purple lapels of his robe, his expression serene and composed. I somehow doubted he planned to throw his weight behind Lord Mortis. But I realized I knew very little about Lysander or what he believed or didn’t believe about blightborn or dragons.
When he finally began to speak, his voice was soft, yet carried easily across the room and was surprisingly firm. “Members of the Tribunal and gathered highbloods. The awakening of the dragon Nyxaris has shaken the foundations of all our houses. But perhaps we are too quick to act, too desperate to control that which cannot be tamed.”
I couldn’t help but notice the way Lord Mortis was looking at Lysander. Practically sneering. I remembered what Coregon had called House Orphos: “Weak.” Blake had called them “weird.”
But looking at Lysander now, I couldn’t help but wonder if “reasonable” and “kind” should be added to that list.
Lysander’s pale blue eyes swept across the chamber. “The dragon is awake, yes. But only one. This awakening does not signal the return of the dragons as we knew them.” A little ironic coming from such a young highblood, but I took his point.
“There can be no breeding,” he went on. “No resurgence of the species. Nyxaris is alone. An echo of the past. Not a herald of a new era.”
I felt a twinge of sadness, hearing the black dragon spoken of that way. But Lysander was right.
“To stake a claim to one dragon, to tie Nyxaris to one house, would be folly,” Lysander said, his voice calm but unyielding. “No house should wield such power over the others.” He looked down at Lord Mortis. “Lord Mortis and I agree in that respect.”
Lord Mortis nodded stiffly.
“We have kept the peace for over a century,” Lysander continued. “House Orphos stood behind the Peacebringer and all that he represented. We stand behind his teachings even now. If we allow one house to rise above the others, it will lead to war.”
Soft-spoken he might be, but Lysander’s logic was cutting.
“As for our lone rider, Miss Pendragon,” Lysander continued, his gaze moving to me. “I propose she be allowed to choose her own path. Whether that means remaining at Bloodwing Academy, remaining Blake Drakharrow’s consort, or carving out a very different life for herself, she is not a tool to be wielded. She has awakened a dragon, yes. But that does not mean she belongs to any one of us. Let her lead her life as she sees fit.”
There was a very long pause after Lysander returned to his seat.
His calm presence, his rational words seemed to linger in the air, and it seemed for a few moments as if no one wished to break the tension. Either that or he had shocked them too greatly to be able to speak at all.
But then Lord Mortis exploded.
He shot to his feet, his hands slamming down on the edge of the tribunal box. “Has the boy lost his mind?” he bellowed, his face flushing red with anger. “Let the dragon fly free? Let the rider do as she pleases? That is not how this works. Do you have any understanding of what is at stake here, boy?”
Lord Mortis glared at Lysander who steadfastly ignored him.
Meanwhile, I sat frozen in my iron chair, trying to absorb what was happening.
Lysander had done the unthinkable. He had suggested I be allowed to choose my own path. The idea had become so foreign to me, so inconceivable, that I almost couldn’t process it.
Viktor Drakharrow stood up and placed a hand on Lord Mortis’s shoulder. “I’m afraid I must agree with Lord Mortis. This is not some game, young Lysander. This is about highblood power. About our survival. Your softheartedness will doom your house, but we will not allow it to doom the rest of Sangratha.”
The crowd in the gallery had lost all sense of order. I heard jeers and shouting from behind me but did not turn.
Lady Avari, I noticed, said nothing.
Lysander, to his credit, did not flinch under Viktor or Lord Mortis’s attacks. He simply folded his hands in his lap. He must have known his suggestions would be laughed at. But he had spoken anyway. He’d stood up for what he believed. Of course, the real question was, did the rest of House Orphos feel the same way he did or was he an outlier among them?
Lord Pansera looked a little desperate as he stood on the podium, slamming his palm down on the wood over and over as he tried to regain control of the room. “Order! This Tribunal will come to order.”
Finally, the ruckus subsided.
Part of me longed to turn and look at Blake. He had reacted so strongly to Lord Mortis’s suggestion. But how had he reacted to Lysander’s? The idea that I might belong only to myself and not to him or to his house must have seemed unthinkable to him.
Finally, I couldn’t stand it any longer. I turned and glanced back at where Blake sat beside Theo. He looked dazed. Not angry. Simply... confused, if it could be called that.
Lady Avari rose to her feet, smoothing the skirt of her robe. “If I may, Arbiter...”
Lord Pansera looked at her with something like relief. “Lady Avari, certainly. You may speak.”
I felt the crowd settle down a little more, calmed by this poised highblood woman. Her gaze swept the room, her dark eyes sharp and calculating.
“My lords and ladies,” Elaria began. “We have heard much today about claims and entitlements. Have we not? But what we have yet to discuss is the rare opportunity that lies before us.”
Her dark eyes fixed on me. “The awakening of Nyxaris is not a calamity, nor is it a mistake. It is a chance. A chance to correct certain imbalances that have persisted for far too long.”
I frowned, uncertain of what she meant.
Lady Avari paused, then gestured at Viktor. “Lord Viktor Drakharrow has, for years, consolidated power around himself and his house, to the detriment of the rest of Sangratha. The dragon’s return is a sign that such unchecked attempts at dominance must come to an end.”
Viktor was on his feet in an instant, his voice loud as a thunderclap. “This is outrageous! You overstep, Elaria—”
“Sit down, Viktor.” Lady Avari’s voice cut through his outburst like a knife. “You’ll have your turn. But first you will hear me speak.”
The room seemed to give a collective gasp as Viktor hesitated, his jaw tight, his eyes flashing crimson. Reluctantly, he sat back down, wearing the expression of a scolded schoolboy.
Lady Avari turned back to the crowd as though there had been no interruption.
“It is clear to me,” she said, her voice icy. “That Medra Pendragon’s fate was left in the wrong hands. She should never have been permitted to become betrothed to Blake Drakharrow. That bond was forged under duress and with no consideration for the girl’s well-being—or for the balance of power among our houses.”
It was pretty clear which one of those was more important to Elaria, but I appreciated her at least pretending to care about my well-being. It was certainly more than Viktor had ever done.
Lady Avari’s dark eyes softened slightly as she looked at me. “Consequently, I propose that Medra Pendragon be allowed to choose a new archon.”
My jaw may have actually dropped.
“Someone who will better represent her interests and those of our collective houses,” she went on.
“And you propose that archon be your grandson, Kage Tanaka, no doubt, do you, Elaria?” Lord Mortis’s voice was dry and he made no move to stand.
There were ripples of laughter through the crowd, but they seemed good-natured. Lady Avari was clearly well-liked by many of her peers.
Elaria smiled. “I do, of course, Lord Mortis. Kage would be a fine archon for the rider and he has no other consorts.”
My eyes widened. The room exploded into chaos.
I didn’t have to bother turning around to know Blake was back on his feet. But before he could raise his voice again, Viktor’s voice broke through the uproar.
“Impossible,” I heard him shout.
The clamor of the crowd continued.
“Impossible,” Viktor roared over the continuing chatter. “Absolutely impossible.”
The chamber fell silent.
“What you propose is impossible, Elaria, and I shall tell you why.”
My heart sank. I knew exactly what he was about to say.
“The bond has already been solidified. Their blood was joined. Blake feeds from the girl. She is his source. You demonstrate your ignorance and your complete willingness to disregard tradition in what you just proposed, Elaria, but I am not surprised.” Viktor curled his lips disdainfully. “House Avari has always been foolhardy.”
Elaria bristled. “So it is true then. The rider has been shackled to your nephew for his survival. How... unfortunate.” She looked at me with something like genuine regret.
I risked another glance backwards. Not at Blake, but at Kage. He sat stoically in his seat beside his mother, his hands clasped together. Perhaps the only indication he was feeling something, anything, was the fact that they seemed clasped a little too tightly. The muscles in his neck over the collar of his black jacket twitched as he met my gaze.
What did Kage really want, I suddenly wondered. Did he want me? Truly?
As I turned back to the tribunal, Viktor’s lips were turned up in a sneer. “Whatever fanciful ideas you might have, Elaria, they are irrelevant. The girl belongs to House Drakharrow.”
Maybe it was the fact that he’d called me “girl” for the hundredth time. Maybe it was the fact that he’d said “belong.”
But something ignited in me.
I shot to my feet. “No.”
I hadn’t shouted. Even so, my voice easily cut through the room like a knife through butter.
“I don’t belong to anyone.”
You could have heard a pin drop. Or a drop of blood fall. All eyes were on me.
Even Lord Pansera seemed shocked into speechlessness at my boldness.
“You’ve all been speaking about me as if I’m not even here. As if I don’t have a voice in any of this. But I do. If you’re going to decide my fate, then at least give me the chance to speak for myself. I deserve that much.” I took a deep breath. “And so does Nyxaris.”