Page 89 of Property of Scar

I turn to leave, then she speaks, and every word arrives smooth as silk with something sharp hidden underneath. “My son was proud… inflexible.” Her gaze shifts, but not toward any of us, settling somewhere beyond the room, somewhere only she can see. “He would not have stopped.”

The words sit there, unchallenged. A pause follows, longer this time, deliberate in a way that feels chosen rather than necessary. “I did not send him after you.” Nothing in her tone changes when she says it—there is no emphasis or defense—just… truth.

Or something close enough to it that no one in the room moves to question it.

The words settle over the Court and stay there.

Nobody rushes to challenge them. Nobody scrambles to explain them away. They simply hang in the air, carrying the kind of weight that makes people think twice before stepping into their path.

Around me, the reactions are subtle.

Ruckus’ grin has disappeared.

Raze watches Titania with that steady, unreadable focus of his.

And somehow Rhett, who can usually find something smart-assed to say about anything, keeps his mouth firmly shut. Because there’s nothing to say that doesn’t shift the ground we’re standing on, and none of us are interested in doing that while we’re still inside it.

I incline my head once, the acknowledgment measured, offering just enough respect to close the exchange without reopening anything else.

“Your Majesty.”

She doesn’t respond.

She doesn’t need to.

The audience is over because she’s decided it is.

I turn first. Ruckus falls in beside me without hesitation, his posture as relaxed as it was on the way in, like none of this has touched him at all. Rhett moves a step behind him, quiet but alert, his gaze already sweeping the room as if expecting something to change now that we’ve turned our backs. Bennett follows on the other side, his presence steady and contained, the kind of calm that doesn’t draw attention but holds it once you notice it.

Raze lingers a fraction longer, his attention fixed on the throne, on Titania, on something unresolved that doesn’t belong here, but he moves when I do, falling back into step with a tension in him that hasn’t settled.

Cali helps Roxy to her feet, steadying her without making it obvious, and together they fall in behind us, Roxy leaning just enough to show the cost of what she’s done.

The Court watches us leave.

I feel it, the weight of their attention tracking us as we retrace our steps through the living corridors, the architecture shifting subtly around us, branches creaking softly overhead, pale stone catching the low light as if the space is aware of our exit.

No one stops us.

No one speaks.

But the pressure doesn’t ease.

Not yet.

We move back through the corridors at the same measured pace we entered with, the distance stretching just slightly longer than it should, like the Court is in no hurry to let us go, even if it isn’t stopping us either.

Rhett stays close, his awareness sharp, shoulders tight in a way that says he doesn’t trust the silence any more than I do. Bennett’s presence is quieter, but no less deliberate, his attention moving differently, less reactive, more… observant, like he’s reading something beneath the surface the rest of us can’t quite access.

The guards we passed on the way in are still there, their attention quieter now, but no less present.

Watching.

Waiting.

Remembering.

The archway eventually comes into view, though it takes longer than I expect. The forest beyond it is dim and still, its edges just slightly out of alignment with everything behind us.