"Not my concern?" Lexa's laugh was bitter, jagged. "How is it not my concern? How is the fate of other humans not something I get to have an opinion about?"
"Because you are not a member of this Council," Mektar said flatly. "You have no place here. No voice. You will be silent or you will be removed."
My claws were digging into my palms hard enough to draw blood. The scent of it mixed with Lexa's fury, her fear, her desperate helplessness. Every muscle in my body screamed at me to move, to step between her and Mektar, to defend her right to speak.
But I couldn't. Not without making everything worse.
She was alone up there. Facing down warriors who could kill her with a thought, who had the power to silence her, to dismiss her, to make her irrelevant.
And I was standing here doing nothing.
Coward.
The word burned through my thoughts, acidic and true.
"Lexa." Terra's voice, quiet but firm. A warning.Step back. Don't make this worse.
Lexa ignored her. She was past reason now, past strategy. All the frustration and uselessness she'd been feeling for weeks had found a target, and she was going to hit it even if it destroyed her.
"You don't get to decide this," she said, her voice rising. "You don't get to just write them off because it's inconvenient or dangerous or politically complicated. They're people. They deserve?—"
"Silence!" Pyroth's roar shook the chamber. He rose from his seat, wings spreading, a display of dominance meant to cow her into submission. "You will be silent, or I will make you silent."
Lexa flinched. Just a fraction, just enough that I saw it. Fear flickered across her face, there and gone, replaced by stubborn defiance.
But I'd seen it. Seen her afraid.
My vision went red at the edges.
I took half a step toward Pyroth before I caught myself. Stopped. Forced my body to stillness even as every instinct howled.
"Enough." Darrokar's voice cut through the tension. He stood, his presence commanding immediate attention. "Pyroth, stand down."
Pyroth hesitated, then slowly folded his wings and resumed his seat. But his eyes stayed locked on Lexa, promising consequences.
Darrokar turned his gaze to Lexa. Not unkind, but unyielding. "Your concerns are noted, but this matter is closed."
"It's not closed," Lexa said, quieter now but no less fierce. "It can't be closed. Not when there are still people out there who need help."
"The decision has been made."
"Then it's the wrong decision."
The words hung in the air. An accusation. A challenge. Dangerous in ways she probably didn't fully understand.
Before anyone could respond, Terra stepped forward. She moved to stand beside Lexa, her posture shifting into something more official.
"Warrior Lord," she said, her voice carrying the weight of her position. "I request permission to speak."
Darrokar's expression didn't change, but something shifted in his eyes. He knew what she was doing. Using her status as his mate to grant legitimacy to concerns Lexa couldn't voice on her own.
"You may speak, luvae."
Terra inclined her head, acknowledging the courtesy. "I formally object to the Council's decision to suspend active search operations for the missing humans."
Murmurs rippled through the Council. This was different from Lexa's outburst. Terra had the right to lodge objections, to petition the Warrior Lord, to use her position to advocate.
"On what grounds?" Zarvash asked.
