"Kneel," he said.
Heat flooded her face. "What?"
"Beside the throne. Kneel." His voice carried that particular tone that meant any argument would end badly. "Unless you'd prefer to stand for the next four hours?"
A ripple went through the watching crowd, amusement mixed with anticipation in the charged air.
She knelt.
The position was immediately uncomfortable, the wooden floor hard against her knees despite the dress's fabric. But worse was the symbolism. Everyone could see exactly what she was: property displayed at his feet.
Eliam settled into his throne with casual grace, one hand dropping to rest near her head. Not touching. Just there. A reminder.
"Bring forth the petitioners," he commanded.
The first petitioner approached with the scrape of bark against wood. A grove guardian, ancient enough that moss grew thick on what might have been shoulders. When it spoke, its voice creaked and groaned.
"My lord, the Eastwood Sentinel has allowed her roots to breach our agreed border. Three of my saplings have withered from her theft of nutrients."
Another guardian stepped forward, a female, if trees had gender, with silver bark and leaves that chimed softly. "The border shifted when the storms came. I follow the old markers, not his arbitrary lines."
"Show me," Eliam commanded.
Both guardians extended gnarled hands. Light bloomed between them, forming a miniature forest that hovered in the air. Briar could see the disputed boundary, roots tangling in territorial war beneath the soil.
"You," Eliam pointed to the first guardian, "moved the markers after the storm to claim more territory. And you," his attention shifted to the female, "knew this but pressed your advantage anyway."
Dismay rippled through both creatures.
"The original border will be restored. You will each sacrifice your three oldest trees to mark it. The wood will be used for my throne room's expansion." His smile was cold. "Consider it payment for wasting my time with disputes you could have resolved through honor rather than greed."
They bowed and retreated. Next came a water sprite, translucent and trembling.
"My lord, the sprite Silvian has been poisoning my stream with iron shavings. My fish die, my plants blacken—"
"Lies!" Another sprite materialized from the crowd. "She diverted the water flow to flood my territory. I merely acted in defense—"
"Silence." Eliam's voice cut through their babbling. "Bring forth the water."
A globe of liquid appeared between them, and even from her position, Briar could see the discoloration and smell the metallic taint.
"Iron in fae waters. Diverted streams. Both crimes against nature's order." He leaned forward slightly. "You will both surrender your territories. New sprites will be appointed. You may serve them or find new waters beyond my borders."
Horror dawned on both faces. Territory was life to water sprites, without it, they were nothing but wandering moisture.
More petitioners lined up, but Briar's attention began to fracture. Her knees had progressed from aching to burning. She shifted slightly, trying to ease the pressure, and Eliam's hand dropped to rest on her head.
A warning, unspoken, to be still.
She forced herself to stop moving, but now all she could focus on was the pain radiating up her thighs, the way the hard wood pressed against bone, the growing numbness in her feet. The voices of petitioners became distant buzzing as she struggled to maintain her position without showing weakness.
Through it all, Briar knelt in silence. Her knees ached, then burned, then went numb. The mark pulsed with each judgment, as if feeding on the display of power. And that warmth in her chest responded every time Eliam spoke, reaching toward his voice.
She was so focused on staying still that she almost missed when the atmosphere changed.
"Your grace," a new voice said. "Such an... interesting addition to your court."
Wariness flooded through her as she glanced up without thinking. The speaker was beautiful in a way that screamed danger. She was tall and lean with skin the gray-white of birch bark. Her hair fell in thick waves the color of old snow, streaked through with darker strands like shadows between trees.
