I take a breath. Square my shoulders. “Ready.”
We ride through the gates together—not as captor and captive, not as Guardian and tribute, but as… something else. Something we’re still figuring out. The guards bow as we pass, and I see the confusion in their ancient eyes. They expected me to come back broken, or not at all.
Instead, I’m sitting straight in my saddle, my hand intertwined with Karax’s, wearing fighting leathers that havebeen cleaned and mended, a look on my face that dares anyone to comment.
“They’re staring,” I murmur.
“Let them stare.” He squeezes my fingers. “They’ll have to get used to a lot of things.”
The great hall is packed when we enter.
Two hundred Fae, maybe more—warriors and nobles and servants, all of them turning to watch as the Guardian walks through the doors with his human omega at his side. Word has spread, of course. The Guardian’s omega leaving in the middle of the night. The Guardian following days later. Both of them returning together, looking like something has fundamentally shifted between them.
The whispers start immediately.
I can’t hear individual words, but I can feel the weight of speculation pressing against me from all sides.What happened? Why did she leave? Why did she come back?
Is she really still his, after everything?
Lord Greymun is in the front row, his bronze face a mask of barely concealed contempt. He’s standing straighter than usual, more confident. The bruises from when Karax nearly killed him have faded, but I can see the memory of that humiliation burning in his eyes. He thought I was gone for good. Thought my departure meant his position was restored, his schemes could continue unchecked.
He was wrong.
“Guardian.” He steps forward, his bow just shallow enough to be insulting. “We’re relieved to see you’ve returned. And your…”He pauses, letting his gaze slide over me with obvious disdain. “…omega. We feared something had happened.”
“Something did happen.” Karax’s voice echoes through the hall, and I feel the stone floor tremble beneath our feet. Crystal formations along the walls pulse brighter, responding to his power. “Lady Hannah required time to process certain… revelations about the nature of our bond.”
Whispers ripple through the crowd. I see curiosity, speculation, a few faces that look almost sympathetic. Most look skeptical. A human omega who left and came back—what does that make me? Weak? Broken? Too pathetic to survive on my own?
I lift my chin and let them wonder.
“She has processed them,” Karax continues, his voice carrying to every corner of the cavernous space. “And she has chosen to remain at my side. Freely. Without compulsion.”
More whispers. I can almost hear the questions—how? why? after everything?
“Furthermore.” Karax releases my hand and steps forward, his massive frame commanding attention. He’s eight feet of bronze muscle and ancient power, and when he speaks, the mountain itself seems to listen. “Lady Hannah will no longer be merely my omega. She will have a voice in this council. Her word carries my authority. When she speaks on matters of tribute, of village relations, of the human territories under our protection—she speaks for Stone Court.”
Silence.
Not the awed silence of acceptance. The tense silence of a court that doesn’t know how to react. I watch it ripplethrough the crowd—shock, disbelief, and on many faces, barely concealed outrage. A human woman, given voice in Stone Court? A voice that carries the Guardian’s authority?
Unprecedented. Unacceptable. A violation of everything they believe about the natural order.
“That’s unprecedented,” Greymun says, his careful composure cracking. “A human cannot—”
“A human just did.” I step forward to stand beside Karax, my head barely reaching his chest but my presence filling the space regardless. I’ve spent eight years protecting a village full of people who underestimated me. I know how to hold my ground.
“I walked into this arena and drew blood from your Guardian when no one else had managed it in seven centuries.” My voice rings clear through the hall, and I feel the warriors’ attention sharpen. “I survived claiming, survived revelation, survived betrayal. And I chose to come back.”
I let my gaze sweep across the assembled lords and warriors, meeting as many eyes as I can. Making them see me. Making them acknowledge that I’m here, that I’m staying, that I won’t be dismissed.
My gaze lands on Greymun last. I hold his stare until he looks away.
The silence stretches. No one salutes. No one pounds their chest or offers respect. But no one challenges me either. They’re waiting, I realize. Watching to see if I’m worth taking seriously, or if I’ll crumble under the weight of their disapproval.
I won’t give them the satisfaction.
“I look forward to working with this council,” I say, and my voice doesn’t waver. “I have eight years of experience with thesharp end of Stone Court’s policies. I know what villages need to survive. And I know what happens when those needs aren’t met.”
