Her place remained empty.
The absence was a judgment all its own.
Then Serast turned.
“Lady Sabine Corvyr.”
The chamber seemed to lean toward her.
Sabine stepped forward.
The kneeling stone waited.
Low. Centered. Worn by generations of women who had been praised for lowering themselves beautifully.
Her mark warmed.
Lucien did not move.
Sabine reached the stone.
Serast watched her.
Maelor watched her.
Ilyra watched her.
Elara’s gaze sharpened, as if she had already guessed what Sabine was about to do and wanted very badly not to smile.
Sabine lowered herself.
Not onto both knees.
One knee touched the stone.
The other remained raised, foot planted.
Not standing.
Not kneeling.
A shape between.
A refusal disguised as balance.
The chamber noticed.
The floor inscription flickered.
Serast’s eyes narrowed.
“The posture is improper,” he said.
“Is it forbidden?” Sabine asked.
A silence.
Corvek looked toward the record clerk.
