"A locked drawer," Oliver adds. "Bottom left of your desk. Unless you've already moved it to cover your tracks."
Merra's eyes narrow. "Councilman Thrain, these are serious accusations. Do you consent to a search of your estate?"
"I...this is highly irregular?—"
"That's not an answer." Another councilman, Drex, leans forward. "If you're innocent, a search will exonerate you. If you refuse, it looks like an admission of guilt."
Thrain is trapped, and he knows it. "Fine. Search my estate. You'll find nothing."
"We'll see." Merra gestures to the guards at the door. "Escort Councilman Thrain to his estate. The rest of you, accompany them. I want a thorough search conducted immediately."
"What about them?" Thrain points at us. "They admitted to breaking into my home! That's a crime!"
"One we'll address after determining the validity of their other claims," Merra says. "If the evidence exists as they claim, their illegal entry becomes far less relevant. Guards, take him."
Thrain is escorted out, still protesting. The other council members file out after him, leaving only Merra, Oliver, and me in the chamber.
"That was either very brave or very foolish," Merra observes. "Possibly both."
"Probably both," I admit.
"And you." She looks at Oliver. "You're either the most audacious human I've ever encountered, or the most suicidal."
"Maybe both of those too," Oliver says with a slight smile.
Merra's lips twitch. "Sit. Both of you. We're going to have a conversation while we wait."
We sit, though my ankle throbs, and Oliver's shoulder must be screaming. Merra studies us for a long moment.
"How long has this been going on?" she asks.
"Three days. I purchased him at auction three days ago."
"Three days." Merra shakes her head. "And you're already willing to risk everything for him?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
It's such a simple question, but the answer is complicated. I look at Oliver, at this human who's turned my entire world upside down in less than a week.
"Because he's the first person in forty years who's made me feel alive," I say quietly. "Because he challenges me, argues with me, refuses to let me hide behind titles and walls. Because when I'm with him, I'm not a widow or a property owner or a member of elite society. I'm just...me."
"And that's worth losing everything?"
"Yes."
Merra turns to Oliver. "And you? You could have tried to escape. Could have refused her advances. Why didn't you?"
Oliver is quiet for a moment. "At first, I hated her. Hated everything she represented. But then I saw past the owner, past the Mistress. I saw a woman who'd been as much a prisoner as I was. Different kind of cage, but a cage all the same." He looks at me. "She freed me in ways that have nothing to do with locked doors. How could I not fall in love with that?"
My breath catches. It's the first time either of us has said the word directly, not dancing around it.
"Love." Merra says it like she's testing the word. "Between Lactari and human. Owner and owned. Such a thing is...unprecedented."
"Maybe it shouldn't be," I say. "Maybe that's the problem. We've built a system that dehumanizes an entire species, that treats sentient beings as property. And we wonder why it breeds resentment and violence."
"You're suggesting we change the entire structure of our society based on your personal experience?"
