Trustworthy.
I cannot stand before the sector leaders and lie. Excuses are not in me. I own my decisions, and what I did was neither accidental nor a side effect of the spell. If I am called to the witness stand, I shall tell the truth. I must.
I close my eyes. Beneath the hush of the wards, the building feels oddly still. I walk through everything I want to say, everything I need to do.
I know what is coming will be hard.
But I have made my decision. I will do whatever it takes to protect Lander and his people.
Even if it means I make a scapegoat of myself.
And I have a feeling Lander is planning to do the same.
Silly, wonderful, complicated, confusing man.
I am not letting him do that.
A young woman enters—human, with blonde curls, bright blue eyes, and a sunny smile. “Miss House, they’re ready for you now.”
She ushers me out of the waiting room, along a corridor, and into Unity Hall.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
It is impressive—likeeverything in Unity Gate, no expense has been spared.
The hall is oval, its tiered seating arranged around the circumference, almost reminiscent of an old-fashioned circus ring. The seats are plush and wide, with wooden tables, more akin to those in a high-end theatre than a government facility.
The first three or four rows are full. Some spectators are clearly derivative—shifter, vampire, magic users in their robes—while others appear wholly human. The remainder of the hall disappears into shadow. In contrast, the circular stage is bathed in blinding white light. A drift of cool air brushes the audience, yet the central platform feels still and stifling, heat trapped under the glare.
The cheerful usher informs me that I am the finalwitness; everyone else has already spoken. I am relieved to appear only as a witness, yet if that is so, why am I not seated with Lander’s team, reviewing statements? Why was I separated?
It does not feel right.
While waiting in the elegant anteroom, I reached for my magic and discovered something curious: the anti-magic dampeners affect me far less than they do others. Designed to neutralise power drawn from standard biological sources, they cannot block mine; forged by a ley line, it operates on a different ‘frequency.’ My power remains intact.
Where others feel muted, I pass through the protective field as lightly as crossing a wild-flower meadow—careful only not to crush the blooms.
I hold my head high and glide up the shallow steps. I may be floundering inside, but outwardly I move like a swan—smooth, controlled, hiding the frantic paddling under the surface.
Now standing in the spotlight, in a hall surrounded by the powerful. Individually, many of them are decent people. Together—leaders, heads of their factions—they must be harder than that. They have to be willing to choose the ‘greater good’ with bloodless hands.
Most chairs encircling the stage are deep red, but front and centre stand a handful of gilded seats for the faction heads. The human representatives look distinctly uncomfortable: the thin man in the middle is pale, and the woman beside him is sweating despite the cool air.
The shifters appear relaxed. The Alpha Prime sits tall and still—and beside him, I spot a familiar face.
Riker smirks, gives a cocky wave, and I acknowledge him with a small, careful smile.
Then my eyes drift over the vampires and the magic users—the full council. Their expressions range from guilt to boredom to mild contempt.
At the end of the row sit Lander and Dayna. Lander’s pale celadon-green gaze never leaves me. He is probably regretting letting me attend.
I step behind the lectern at centre stage. A microphone waits, red light glowing. Everything here is being recorded; even my breathing feels like evidence.
“Good evening,” a disembodied voice intones. “For the record, please state your name.”
I nod. “Good evening. My name is Harper House.”
“Thank you, Miss House. Please give your statement regarding the events that led to the twenty-ninth of June.”
