“Here. To your left. Close enough to guide your hand if you offer it.”
“I will not offer it.”
“Good. Serast will stand at the head, near the basin. Lucien opposite you. Aeron on the witness ring, elevated slightly so he can see the full floor.”
Elara traced the blood channels with one finger.
“The orthodox cut runs lengthwise along this channel. The bride’s blood enters first, flows downward into the submission reservoir. The prince’s blood follows and seals the binding.”
“And if Lucien cuts across the line?”
“The blood paths cross instead of descending. If you speak together at the break point, the chamber may be forced to recognize shared flow rather than consumption.”
Sabine memorized the positions.
Maelor left.
Serast at the head.
Lucien opposite.
Aeron elevated.
“What if Aeron does not see the truth?”
“He will see it,” Elara said. “Ilyra made certain he understands what he is witnessing. She told him Isolde’s death happened in that chamber under his watch, and if he allows another bride to vanish without intervention, history will name him complicit.”
“That is not kindness.”
“No. It is strategy.” Elara folded the diagram. “But it may keep you alive.”
Sabine touched the hem where the score fragment rested.
“If the chamber turns violent and Aeron fails to stop it, what then?”
Elara’s expression hardened.
“Then Lucien acts, I make enough noise to embarrass three generations of Vhalors, and Corvek records whatever happens clearly enough that Serast cannot bury it.”
“Awful plan.”
“The only kind available.”
Lucien entered after Elara left.
Lysa blocked the door and refused to let temple attendants follow him inside.
He crossed to Sabine and stopped.
She stood in the white gown with her hair pinned back and the mark visible along her arm and shoulder.
He looked at her as if he were memorizing her face.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
“No. But I am prepared.”
He gestured to the small antechamber off the suite.
