“So this is your Starfallen,” he says, his voice perfectly neutral, as if he’s greeting a neighbor. “And I understand that the Stone has blessed her with a gift. One she is using to interfere with my claim to my bride.”
The guards behind me go still.
Vorak gestures toward me, never breaking eye contact. “As you are aware, contact between Starfallen brides is forbidden on Xytheos. And yet your Starfallen reaches for mine.”
“You have evidence of this?” Rythar asks coldly.
“My own bride reported the intrusion. It upsets her,” Vorak says. He angles the words away from Rythar, toward the light above the table. He didn’t come here to argue. He came to perform for the audience he brought.
Rythar’s voice stays flat. “And where is your proof? Have you brought your witness? Where is your bride, who makes this accusation?”
Vorak's expression doesn't change. “My mate does not desire to be near another warlord. You know the risks of communication between the Starfallen. It spreads instability. Doubt. What if she infects the whole system with her—” he pauses, eyes flicking to me, “with her weak ways? The Concord Council will punish her for this.”
Rythar squares his shoulders, every line of his body radiating warning. “I will discipline my mate. No one else will.”
I fight to keep my face a mask. Rythar has never mentioned anything about “disciplining” me. I bite down on my tongue to keep from saying anything.
Vorak’s gaze sharpens. “Then do it now. In front of us. Or admit she is unfit to breed the Reach. Admit she interferes with my claim to my bride.”
I stare straight ahead and keep my teeth clenched. I’ve got a lot to say to Vorak, but I know it will do more harm than good right now. Especially when he still has Sophia.
Rythar stands between me and Vorak, a wall of flesh and armor. “You still have provided no evidence for your accusations, Vorak. What is it you want as punishment? My mate to be broken? To have her as your own?”
Vorak leans back. “How can you rule the Reach if you cannot rule your own mate? I want order.” He spits the last word.
Rythar’s voice drops, dangerous. “As do I. You came here to take my bride, and yet you cannot produce your own bride, even as a witness. Where is Sophia?”
Vorak smiles. “She is where she belongs. Claimed and quiet. And she will stay that way. Even if your bride does her best to interfere.”
The projection speaks for the first time. The voice is quiet and arrives from no direction at all. “Starfallen.” The High Lord doesn’t say my name. I’m just a category. “Did you communicate with Vorak’s bride?”
“She has no access to communication devices,” Rythar says. Rythar’s arm is around my shoulder.
The room is utterly silent. I wish Dana were here. I want a lawyer. But standing between me and Vorak and the projection of the High Lord is an apex predator who would die for me—and he’s my mate.
“I haven’t seen Sophia since she was hauled off by Vorak. And like Rythar said, I don’t have access to any communication technology,” I say.Let’s see what the High Lord admits he knows about the mental network the Stone made between us.
Rythar shifts, turns to Vorak. “This is a waste of time. If you want to challenge me for the Reach, do it. If not, get out,” he growls.
Vorak is clearly furious, but Rythar doesn’t have to tell him twice. Vorak backs through the door to the Command Center.
The light above the table thins and is gone. Just like that, the High Lord’s appearance is over. The doors seal after Rythar’s men escort Vorak out. Rythar looks at the door for a moment.
I don’t dare breathe a word.
Rythar’s expression remains unchanged. To anyone watching, he maintains the image of an unshakable warlord who just shut down a Reach challenge.
I swallow. He knows I was terrified. His hand finds the back of my neck, fingers closing there.
"The matter with Vorak is handled," Rythar says. “For now.”
“For now?” I whisper.
“Contact between rulers is logged and transmitted to the Concord Council. Today it was more than a log. The High Lord attended.”
For nowmeans not permanently. For now means there's a next time, and a time after that, and eventually Vorak or the Council or the High Lord will find the opening they need. Rythar is stronger than anyone I've ever known, but the Concord Council isn't something he can fight with his hands or his vines or his sword. If they decide I'm a threat to order, I don't know what he can do. I don't know if he knows either. There's a line here I have to walk, and I'd better find it fast.
Rythar’s attention shifts outward, focused on the warriors surrounding us. With a nod to Drenz and another to a warrior whose face I don't recognize, unspoken orders ripple through the room. The others exit.
