She curtsies properly. “Your Majesty.”
Lucian leans forward slightly, his expression regal. “Lord Radrick has made certain claims before this Council. Claims regarding a fated mate bond between the two of you.” He pauses. “Do you have a fated mate bond with Lord Zane Radrick?”
Silence.
Selene stands perfectly still, her face betraying nothing. The chamber holds its breath. I watch her throat work as she swallows, but she doesn’t speak.
I stare at her. Say something, little wolf.
“Additionally,” Lucian continues, and I hear the faint edge of exasperation creeping into his tone, like a man tired of dealing with petty drama, “Lord Radrick claims you’ve been avoiding his invitations. Refusing to see him. Can you explain why?”
Selene’s posture shifts—it’s subtle, but I know her body language now. That’s anger coiling in her muscles.
“With respect, Your Majesty,” she says, her voice cutting clear and cold through the entire room, “why is my personal life being discussed before the entire Council?”
Several nobles gasp. You don’t speak to the King like that—not in open court, not with that edge in your voice.
But Lucian’s expression doesn’t change. If anything, there’s approval flickering in his eyes.
“Answer the question, Healer,” Draven cuts in smoothly, rising from his seat. His rings reflect the light as he gestures broadly. “The Council has a right to understand what’s happening here.”
Selene’s head snaps toward him, pure contempt in her eyes. “Why should I answer to the High Inquisitor about a personal matter?” Venom drips from every word. “Since when does my private life concern the Council?”
The sneer on her face makes my wolf rumble with satisfaction.
“Since Lord Zane made it public by bringing his grievance before us,” Draven replies, his smile widening. “Now, answer—”
“Selene.” Zane’s voice cuts through the tension, sounding soft and wounded. He rises from his seat, moving toward her with slow, careful steps. “Please, I just need to understand—”
“Stay where you are.” Selene’s hand shoots up, palm out, stopping him mid-stride.
He freezes, genuine surprise on his face. This isn’t going the way Zane planned; I can see it in the way his pulse quickens. Around the chamber, nobles lean forward with renewed interest.
“Has Commander Rowan been forcing you to his bed chambers?” Zane drops the question like a bomb, his words echoing off the vaulted ceiling. “Is he coercing you? Threatening you?”
Rage explodes through me, burning hot and violent. I’m about to shout at him, but Selene beats me to it.
“How dare you!” Her voice cuts like steel, fury blazing in her eyes. She takes a step toward him, and he actually flinches. “How dare you stand before the Council and spread lies about me. About my character. No, Commander Rowan has not been forcing me anywhere. How dare you even suggest such a thing!”
Zane takes a step back, shock written across his face. “I’m not—I’m only trying to—”
“You’ve been seen exiting his quarters!” Draven interrupts, triumph in his voice as he addresses Lucian next. “Multiple times. At all hours of the day and night. There are witnesses, Your Majesty. Despite her denials, the evidence is clear that something inappropriate—”
“So what?” Selene spins toward him, and I watch Draven’s expression falter. “So what if I’ve been seen leaving the Commander’s quarters? Since when is that a crime?”
“It’s improper for a woman with a fated mate to—”
“Since when has the High Inquisitor started focusing on impropriety in personal mating bonds?” Selene cuts him off, and the scorn in her tone makes several Council members shift uncomfortably. “You must have a lot of time on your hands, High Inquisitor, to concern yourself with where I spend my time.” She takes a step toward him, and Draven sits backdown. “I am a free woman. I can do what I want, with whom I want. That is my right.”
The chamber goes silent. Several nobles exchange shocked glances. A woman—a healer, no less—is standing before the High Inquisitor and dressing him down like he’s a disobedient child.
Pride surges through me so fiercely, it nearly chokes me. That’s my mate.
Draven’s face flushes red, his composure cracking. “There is clearly something wrong with this healer.” He turns to Lucian with scarcely concealed fury, and his voice rises, slicing through the stunned silence. “Your Majesty, I formally request that my warlocks examine her for magical influences. No woman would willingly reject her fated mate unless she was being manipulated. This is unnatural.”
Ice shoots through my veins.
This is it. That’s Zane’s play. He couldn’t get Selene alone, couldn’t drug her again, so now he’s using the Council to force her into a situation where his allied warlocks can do whatever it is he originally planned.
