The chamber erupted in shocked murmurs.
Lysandra made a small, helpless sound behind Poppy—equal parts love, pride, and an oh-no-she-did-not attitude.
The Councilor sputtered, “You cannot make threats in these halls—”
“That was not a threat,” Poppy said, perfectly composed. “It was a promise.”
The First Sentinel stepped forward then, the scrape of his boots silencing half the room.
“Councilor Worthington,” he said calmly, “the next time you suggest imprisoning a woman who survived a celestial battle you’ve only read about in dusty scrolls, I will personally escort you outside and remind you of the difference between theory and combat.”
Worthington paled.
A second Councilor rose, flustered. “First Sentinel, you cannot take their side so openly—”
“I can,” the Sentinel replied, “because they are right.”
Mingxi stepped beside Poppy, foxfire steady but lethal at the edges.
“She speaks for our clan,” he said. “Anyone who touches Lysandra Sinclair touches my wife. And my family.”
“This is highly irregular—” another Councilor tried.
Poppy turned, slow and precise. “What is irregular,” she said, “is attempting to cage my sister because her gifts frighten you.”
Lysandra’s voice wavered behind her. “Poppy… you’re going to make me cry.”
“Not now,” Poppy murmured.
“You’re still making me cry,” Lysandra whispered.
The Sentinel crossed his arms and addressed the entire court, “Let it be recorded that the Ashen Court will not detain Lysandra Sinclair. Not today. Not in the future. Not ever.”
He leveled a look at the chamber that dared anyone to argue. No one did.
Poppy placed a steadying hand on Lysandra’s arm and guided her forward.
“We will give testimony,” she said. “Willingly. Freely. But no one in this room will threaten or coerce my sister again.”
Mingxi leaned down and murmured against her temple, voice strained with awe, “Beloved, you are devastating.”
Poppy flushed. Her heart was still racing, fear buzzing sharp and insistent beneath her ribs, but she kept her spine straight and her hand steady. She would not let them see her waver.
Lysandra groaned. “Please, not in front of the government.”
Councilors stared in scandalized silence.
The Sentinel gestured toward the inner chamber. “Shall we?” he said.
This time, the Court did not lead; they followed Poppy.
Chapter 113
The inner chamber was smaller, circular, lit by floating star-lanterns. The Sentinel guided them to a low table, gesturing for Poppy to sit at the head.
Poppy blinked. “Isn’t that where one of you should—”
“No,” the Sentinel said. “You led the battle. You lead the account.”
