The whispers became a roar.
He took his seat with his usual, predatory grace, and she remained standing at his right hand—where no human had ever stood before.
"Lord Malachar," he called, voice carrying easily through the space. "Step forward."
The Winter Lord emerged from the crowd, and Briar's breath caught. Where his left eye should have been, white bandages wrapped his head. Frost still clung to his silver hair, his remaining eye burning with barely controlled rage.
"Forest King," Malachar said, the title dripping with contempt. "I see you've made... changes to your court arrangements."
"I've made clarifications," Eliam corrected, fingers drumming once on his throne's arm. "Sometimes clarity requires demonstration. You provided an excellent opportunity for such."
"Over a human pet?" Someone called from the crowd, Lord Ashling, one of Malachar's delegation. "You maim a Great Lord over a toy?"
The temperature dropped. Frost crept across windows despite the magical warmth of the hall.
"I took an eye," Eliam said with terrible calm, "for violation of guest rights. For forced entry into private chambers. For touching property that wasn't his to touch." He stood slowly, each movement deliberate. "The fact that it was human property is irrelevant. The violation stands regardless."
Ashling stepped back, but Malachar laughed, the sound harsh and bitter.
"Property," he said. "You mutilated me over property."
"I took payment for theft. Or attempted theft." Eliam descended the steps with predatory grace. "You entered my domain as a guest. Ate at my table. Sheltered under my roof. Then violated the oldest laws of hospitality."
He stopped before Malachar, close enough that ice and forest scent mingled in the air between them.
"But if we're discussing the property itself," Eliam continued, beginning to circle the Winter Lord slowly, "last night my pet drew blood from a Great Lord of Winter. Your blood, Malachar. A mortal human bit you hard enough to scar." His smile was sharp. "Perhaps that's what truly offends you—not that I keep her, but that she marked you first."
The court stirred, several fae touching their own throats unconsciously.
"She's still human," Malachar spat. "Still mortal. Still beneath—"
Eliam moved faster than sight. His hand wrapped around Malachar's throat, lifting the Winter Lord off his feet with casual strength.
"Beneath you?" he said softly. "Yet you bled for her. Scarred by her. Failed to subdue her." He released Malachar, who stumbled but stayed upright. "If she's so beneath you, what does that make you?"
Around them, the court had gone statue-still.
"Your delegation leaves within the hour," Eliam said, returning to his throne. "Our business is concluded."
"The border negotiations—"
"Are forfeit. After your transgressions, you should be grateful I'm allowing you to leave at all."
Malachar's remaining eye blazed with fury, but he bowed and turned to leave. His delegation followed, though several cast long looks at Briar in her unprecedented position.
As the Winter contingent departed, the rest of the court remained frozen, uncertain. Humans didn't stand beside the throne. But then again, humans didn't usually draw blood from Great Lords either.
"The rest of you," Eliam said, settling back in his throne with casual authority, "may approach with your petitions."
The first petitioner approached on shaking legs. He introduced himself as a minor lord and had a dispute about hunting rights. He bowed to Eliam, eyes flickering nervously to Briar standing beside the throne, clearly unsure of protocol.
"Proceed," Eliam said, giving no guidance on how to address the human's presence.
Twenty minutes passed. Then thirty. Petitions continued, and Briar remained standing. The heeled boots that had seemed manageable in her chambers now felt like instruments of torture. Her legs trembled minutely, weight shifting from foot to foot in tiny adjustments she hoped no one noticed.
But of course, Eliam noticed.
Without looking away from the current petitioner, something about grain stores, his hand moved slightly. A gesture so small most wouldn't catch it.
