Dominic’s smile widened. “She’s being prepared for the test, per protocol.”
Lucia cut in, voice cold as ice. “She’s being kept from her mate, you mean.”
Kazimir spoke next, his accent slicing the air. “Council is in violation. You allow King Dominic access, but not her true mate. This is not tradition. This is torture.”
The room rippled with unease. Witches exchanged glances, the vamps bared their teeth in amusement, and Declan’s lips tightened, a small tick betraying his anger.
Lucia stepped forward, her presence filling the chamber. “Savannah has been beaten. Starved. Forced into silver. There are witnesses. There are photographs.” She flicked a stack of printed images onto the table. They scattered across the marble, each one a still life of pain: Savannah’s wrists flayed by silver cuffs, her face swollen, bite marks ringed in purple.
For a moment, there was silence.
Then Rafe spoke, his voice slow and certain. “We demand emergency arbitration. If the Council cannot guarantee her safety, we’ll take it to the Assembly of Kings.”
The Chairwoman hesitated, then nodded. “Very well. Bring her in.”
I felt her coming before the doors even opened—a wave of panic, then hope, then a pain so sharp it nearly split me in half. My bones stretched, fur itched at my scalp, and my jaw ached to crack open and howl. Bronc set a hand on my shoulder, grounding me, but I barely felt it.
The doors swung wide. Savannah stood there, flanked by two guards. She wore a plain white shift, her hair loose, her face pale but defiant. When she saw me, she broke. Just for a second. Then she squared her shoulders and walked down the aisle, never looking away.
She stopped ten feet away. The Chairwoman gestured for her to take a seat. Savannah took it, eyes locked onmine.
“State your name for the record,” the witch said.
“Savannah Calloway,” she replied, voice so steady it made me want to cry.
“Is it true you are mated to Bridger Hardin?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Is it true you were promised to King Dominic?”
Savannah’s voice trembled, just a fraction. “Not by choice.”
The Chairwoman nodded. “Have you been coerced?”
Savannah’s eyes slid to her father, then to Dominic. She hesitated. “Yes,” she said, barely audible. “I was forced. They threatened my family. They threatened to kill him.”
Dominic laughed, low and ugly. “She’s a liar. She ran away from her birthright. This is all an act.”
“Enough,” Rafe said, and the chamber went still.
The Chairwoman looked at Declan. “Do you dispute the mate bond?”
Declan’s voice was ice. “It’s impossible. She did not seek my approval. There was no contract. No Council witness.”
Lucia laughed, a sound like glass breaking. “You care for contracts, but not your daughter’s life?”
Kazimir said, “The bond is proven. Let them be together. End this farce.”
The Chairwoman shuffled papers. “It will take a vote.”
But the room had already decided. The other royals murmured, not in English, but the intent was clear: this had gone too far. Even the witches looked ashamed.
Bronc leaned in and whispered, “Go to her, Menace. Now.”
I didn’t walk. I ran.
The guards moved to block me, but the Chairwoman snapped, “Let him pass.”
