Cador stood apart from them.
He was facing away from the door when I entered, his back to me, his shoulders rigid beneath the black wool of his coat.
He didn’t turn when Morveth announced my presence. Didn’t move at all.
But I saw his hands. Clenched at his sides, the knuckles white.
“Lady Olwen.” The eldest of the elders stepped forward.
His voice was thin, reedy, the voice of someone who had spent too many years giving orders to remember how to ask. “Thank you for joining us.”
I stopped at the edge of the torchlight. I stood tall, feigning a confidence I didn’t possess.
A lie, of course. But a useful one.
“The council has been discussing your... situation,” the elder continued. “Your presence in our territory. Your relationship with our King.”
A pause. A glance toward Cador’s rigid back. “The claims he has made on your behalf.”
“The Priestess of the Realm,” I said. “Yes. I’m aware.”
“A creative interpretation of ancient law.” One of the female elders, younger than the others, her black hair streaked with silver rather than consumed by it. “Some might call it a fabrication.”
“Some might call it precedent.” Cador’s voice, low and flat. He still hadn’t turned. “The law exists. I invoked it. The matter is settled.”
“The matter is far from settled.” The old man again, his reedy voice sharpening. “You have brought a death-touched into our midst. A leech. A thing that feeds on the living, that drains heatfrom everything it touches. And you expect us to accept it as a priestess? As your bride?”
“Sheismy bride. The ceremony was performed. The documents were signed.”
“Documents can be voided. Ceremonies can be undone.” The elder took another step forward, and I saw the calculation in his ice-colored eyes.
“Cast her out, my King. Send her back across the Veil, back to her own kind. Let the humans deal with their own aberrations. We have no place for?—”
“No.”
The word was quiet. Cador still hadn’t moved, hadn’t turned. But something in the quality of his stillness had changed. The air in the room grew colder. The torches flickered.
“No,” he said again. “I willnotcast her out.”
“The blood tether won’t hold forever,” Morveth said. She stood apart from the elders, her filmed eyes seeing more than sight allowed.
“You know this. A temporary anchor isn’t the same as a permanent bond. If you want to keep her, truly keep her, you’ll need something more.”
The set of Cador’s shoulders didn’t change. But I saw his hands relax at his sides. The rigid set of his shoulders loosened by a fraction.
The eldest male stepped forward. “You have three days, my king. Three days to perform the mate bond ritual and anchor her permanently to the Raven Spirit. If she remains death-touched, if she remains a danger, we invoke challenge rights.”
His voice was cold. Final. “Prove she belongs here, or we take the throne.”
“Enough.”
Cador turned. His expression was set, his gaze unyielding.
His face was a mask of stone. His gaze swept across the assembled elders, and whatever they saw in his face made them fall silent.
“You speak of challenges and replacements,” he said. “You speak of laws and precedents and the good of the clan. But you don’t speak of the truth.”
He moved forward, and the elders parted before him. “The truth is that you’re afraid. Not of her, but of what she represents. A death-touched creature in a clan of death-speakers.”
