"Your political standing?—"
"Is secondary." I turn to face him. "To the child. To Edria. In that order and without negotiation."
He snorts and shakes his head. "You're in love with her."
I don't confirm it. I don't need to — it's not a question, and the answer is written clearly enough across whatever my face is doing that adding words would be redundant.
"This will cost you everything," he says.
"Then it costs me everything." I sit down. "We're done, Thalen."
He leaves, this time without the slow deliberate pace. I've actually moved him, which is notable.
Two more nobles arrive before the afternoon is out — Fenrath by messenger, a formal written request that I voluntarily surrender administrative oversight of the Oxwood region pending a council review of my fitness to govern. Lord Caevar in person, more carefully worded but carrying the same request.
I decline both.
"You have no authority to strip a regional lord of his governance absent a formal council vote," I tell Caevar, who at least has the decency to look uncomfortable about the errand. "If the council wants to schedule that vote, I'll present my case at the session. Until then, the territory remains under my authority."
"Nyrius." He sets his cup down. "The oversight council is not your ally in this."
"The oversight council authorized an arrest based on fabricated witness testimony and a chain of custody that doesn't survive basic scrutiny." I lean forward. "When that becomes public record — and it will, within the week — the question won't be whether my judgment is compromised. It'll be whether the council's is."
He leaves without finishing his tea.
Cyran comesat the seventh hour, and I know from the way he walks through the door that the news isn't good.
"Malrec moved the sentencing date," he says. "Three days from now instead of seven."
I set down my pen.
"He filed the acceleration this afternoon with the oversight council." Cyran crosses to the table. "Cited risk of civil unrest if the proceedings are prolonged. There are two council members who signed off already."
Three days.
I had seven to complete the documentation, file the formal challenge, and get in front of a council majority with Velis's testimony and the financial records. Seven was tight but workable. Three is a different problem entirely.
"He knows," I say.
"Yes." Cyran's voice says it all. "Velis's testimony has moved through at least one intermediary. Malrec has enough intelligence to know you're close to having a complete case." He sits down across from me. "He's trying to close the window before you step through it."
I sift through the papers on my desk. The financial ledgers, the proxy account records, Velis's signed testimony, three pages of witness inconsistencies from the arrest documentation. Everything I need — needing two more days I don't have.
"What can we file tonight?" I ask.
Cyran is already pulling papers toward him. "The chain of custody challenge. The witness employment records — those are clean and damning on their own. And Velis's testimony with my corroboration."
"Get it drafted." I stand. "I want it in front of the oversight council's receiving clerk before the sixth hour tomorrow morning."
"That's not a long time."
"Then we start in the next five minutes." I reach for my pen. "And Cyran — find out which two council members signed off on the acceleration. I want to know who Malrec owns before I walk into that room."
He nods and gets to work.
I write.
Outside, the night is cold and the wind is picking up from the north, and somewhere in the Oxwood courthouse prison, Edria is sleeping in a stone cell with four fewer days than she had this morning.
