“I charge Zeporah Zrynon with invoking Vykenraven.”
The hall froze.
King Yethule startled. “What did she say?”
Xavien rose, voice carrying.
“The princess charges Casqadia’s queen with invoking Vykenraven.”
Uneasy murmurs circled like vultures.
“You accuse her of a great offense, Princess,” Xavien began. “When?”
“Three nights past.”
“And who bears witness?”
“I.”
“You claim she performed iton you?”
“She sealed the Grand Hall and trespassed every mind within. If not for the Ruakite who revealed his Endowment—who risked death to shield us—we would all have perished.”
A hush rippled.
Xavien’s stance cracked, only slightly, yet enough.
He raised his voice.
“This usurper queen denies her people’s voice, enslaves their rightful heir, and calls down Vykenraven on the only one who could replace her.” He turned to Amerei. “And you seek relief here?”
“Yes.”
She met his gaze as equal.
Xavien spread his arms, calling to the senators.
“Will you stand idle while our ally crumbles? Will you ignore Tyra’s threat while Casqadia burns? Or will you act?”
He swept his hand across the chamber.
“Stand now, men of honor. Restore to Casqadia the progeny of Queen Cassandra.”
Amerei kept her eyes forward.
The voices erupted—praise, outrage, condemnation, all at once.
Xavien seized a gilded envelope from the altar.
“I cast my vote now!”
The chamber exploded in golden light.
Amerei stood unmoved, thunder crashing around her. The intent of the hall was unmistakable—violence waited,hungry.
Xavien brushed her fingers.
His gaze caught the gleam of her amethyst necklace.
