Lucien inclined his head fractionally.
“Did you enter sacred union with Lady Isolde Corven under the prior Trials.”
“Yes.”
“Was she marked first.”
“Yes.”
“Did you love her.”
Lucien’s jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
A murmur moved through the galleries.
Serast let it die before continuing.
“Was she injured during the final vow.”
“Yes.”
“Were you present when she died.”
“I was present.”
“Was her blood found on your hands.”
“Yes.”
“Was your blood found with hers.”
“Yes.”
Sabine’s mark burned so sharply she had to curl her fingers into her palm.
“Did the union fail under your protection.”
For three seconds, Lucien said nothing.
The silence opened around him.
Sabine moved before she meant to.
Half a step.
No more than that.
Enough for Maelor’s eyes to flick from Lucien to her hand. Enough for one clerk’s pen to pause over the page.
She locked her knees.
The mark burned as if it had teeth.
Lucien’s gaze did not leave Serast.
“I failed to save her,” he said.
