“If Serast orders Maelor to force the orthodox channel?”
“Then I act.”
“Not before.”
“Sabine.”
“We need the chamber to reveal itself in front of witnesses. If you move too soon, Serast controls the story. If you wait, the truth becomes visible.”
“And if I wait too long, you die.”
“Then trust me to tell you when.”
His hand found hers.
The bond pulsed.
A knock sounded.
Elara’s voice came through the door.
“King Aeron has confirmed attendance. Ilyra countersigned the witness list. Serast tried to exclude me, but Corvek cited precedent for royal family observation.”
Lucien opened the door.
Elara entered carrying a leather folder.
“I copied the witness protocols. Serast will control entry, but once inside the chamber, only the king can halt the rite.”
“Will Aeron stop it if the chamber turns violent?” Sabine asked.
Elara’s expression was complicated.
“He looked troubled during the public trial. Especially when you spoke about disappearance. But troubled is not the same as decisive.”
“Then we make the chamber’s violence impossible to ignore.”
Elara set the folder on the desk.
“Maeven sent this. The exact breath marks from Isolde’s score. She says timing is everything. One beat too early, the chamber rejects you. One beat too late, your blood enters the wrong channel.”
Sabine looked at the timing marks.
Rests. Pauses. The space between notes where music became silence.
“One breath,” she said.
Lucien’s hand tightened on hers.
The palace bells began to ring.
Midnight preparation would begin in two hours.
At midnight, the chamber would ask her to disappear.
Sabine looked at Lucien, at Elara, at the copied score, at her own marked hand.
The court thought she had won by reaching the Tenth Vow.
