“As daughter of House Silverthorne,” she begins, voice steady despite the tremor I can feel through her palm, “I invoke the Undue Influence Clause of the Inter-Realm Accord, Section 142.”
The five tribunal members shift uncomfortably. Three of them—Lady Morwyn, Lord Kaelith, Councilor Aldric—can’t meet her eyes. Their complicity glows in the evidence display still hovering above us, corruption signatures damning them with every pulse of sickly light.
“Lord Kaelith.” Lyanna’s voice cuts through the murmurs with surgical precision. “Five private consultations with Faelan’s associates over the past six months. After each meeting, yourdecisions on marriage tribunal cases shifted precisely thirteen degrees toward enforcement rigidity.”
She gestures, and the evidence expands—voting patterns, decision trees, the mathematical erosion of his previously moderate stance. The analysis hangs in the air like an accusation written in light.
Lord Kaelith’s face drains of color.
“Lady Morwyn.” Lyanna turns, and I watch her transform into something I’ve never fully seen before—not just the healer I love, but the diplomat she was trained to be. “Seven gifts received over three months, each bearing the same corruption signature as the contamination that nearly killed half our pack.”
A silver charm bracelet materializes in the air, rotating slowly as magical light illuminates each trinket. Lady Morwyn’s fingers twitch involuntarily toward her own wrist, where an identical bracelet sits hidden beneath her sleeve.
“Your traditionalist views were genuine,” Lyanna acknowledges, keeping her voice neutral. “But they were weaponized through calculated manipulation.”
Pride floods through me—and respect. Deep respect for who she is when she’s not hiding behind duty or tradition.
“Councilor Aldric.” She faces the third corrupted member directly. His jaw clenches tight enough that I can see the muscle jumping beneath his skin. “Your grudge against House Silverthorne was deliberately inflamed through thirteen separate encounters with Faelan’s associates.”
The evidence materializes, showing identical methodology across different targets. Same signature. Same techniques. Different vulnerabilities exploited.
“Three compromised members,” Lyanna declares, voice carrying absolute conviction. “Three out of five—a controlling majority. The unprecedented three-day processing of mymarriage contract violated all procedural standards requiring fourteen days minimum for validation.”
She’s magnificent. There’s no other word for it.
The exhaustion is still there—I can see it in the slight tremor of her hands, the careful way she plants her feet. The battle with Faelan drained her reserves almost completely. But she’s channeling every scrap of remaining energy into this presentation, her healer’s precision transformed into legal weaponry.
“The corruption methodology was identical across all three targets,” she continues, the evidence shifts to show a comparison chart. “Same magical signature. Same psychological manipulation techniques. Same timeline of escalating influence. This wasn’t coincidence or opportunism. This was a coordinated campaign to corrupt the Marriage Tribunal from within.”
Lord Kaelith makes a strangled sound. Lady Morwyn weeps silently, her hands covering her face. Councilor Aldric sits rigid, jaw clenched so tight I can see the muscles jumping.
“I present this evidence not to condemn these individuals,” Lyanna says, and her voice softens slightly. “They too were victims of Faelan’s manipulation. But that does not change the legal reality. Their votes were compromised. Their decisions were tainted. And any ruling they made under that influence cannot stand.”
The two uncorrupted tribunal members exchange glances. The older one—a silver-haired fae woman with eyes like chips of ice—nods slowly.
“The evidence is compelling,” she admits. “But the process must be observed. We will deliberate.”
The five tribunal members bend their heads together in a tight circle, tension visible in their rigid postures. The evidence still glows above them—undeniable proof illuminating their faces with cold, magical light. Their whispers are barely audible,but body language speaks volumes: three corrupted members shifting uncomfortably, the uncorrupted pair gesturing emphatically at the evidence.
The deliberation stretches longer than the dragons’ debate. Fae courts have always loved their procedures, their endless discussions, their careful considerations of precedent and politics. I watch the five tribunal members argue in hushed tones, their gestures becoming increasingly animated.
The corrupted three are trying to salvage something—I can see it in their desperate expressions, the way they keep pointing to sections of law that might offer them protection. But the two uncorrupted members aren’t having it. The silver-haired woman’s voice rises occasionally, sharp words like “incontrovertible” and “unconscionable” cutting through the whispered debate.
Lyanna stands perfectly still beside me, her hand finding mine. Her fingers are cold, trembling slightly. I squeeze gently, trying to transfer some of my steadiness to her.
“They’re going to rule in our favor,” I murmur. “Look at their faces.”
“Fae courts are unpredictable,” she whispers back. “I’ve seen them ignore evidence before. Tradition matters more than truth, sometimes.”
“Not this time.” I nod toward the progressive faction, clustered together and watching the deliberation with barely contained hope. “Too many witnesses. Too much evidence. Even fae politics can’t paper over what everyone just saw.”
The deliberation continues for another agonizing minute. Then two. Then three.
Finally, the silver-haired woman stands. The other four fall silent.
Lyanna sways slightly beside me. I pull her back against my side, letting my body heat warm her while we wait. Her handsqueezes mine, and I feel her fear through the pressure of her fingers. Everything rides on this moment.
The head of the tribunal’s expression is carved from stone as she faces the assembled courts, the weight of centuries of tradition battling visibly with the undeniable corruption floating before her.
