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“A bookstore in the mall I work at.”

“You expect us to believe you bought a royal tome like it was a cookbook?” Cyn’s father stepped forward, hand raised.

I shrank back until I bumped the guard’s leg. He shoved me forward, and I fell to my hands, scraping them against the rough ground.

“Ardvaen, please,” Cyn’s mother said, grasping his arm again. “Let the girl speak.”

He bared his teeth at me and stepped back beside her. At least someone didn’t want to kill me outright.

Cornaith studied me, stroking his black goatee. “Who is your accomplice? Even with the suppression wards on you, I feel no trace of a magical signature. Someone else must be behind this.”

“I don’t have an accomplice. I already told the ones who brought me here that I went to the bookstore and the woman there gave me the book. I didn’t even pay for it.”

I almost looked at the triplets near the guys, but stopped myself. My scraped hands burned, and I didn’t want the guard hurting me again for looking their way.

“Are you saying you stole the tome?”

The gasps from the “audience” reminded me this farce of a trial was being broadcast to an entire world.

This wasn’t a trial. It was a performance—a display of power and humiliation. I’d known it the moment Ranthus told me my fate was sealed.

Still, I played my part, hoping something I said might shift their perception.

I looked at Zeke’s mother. “No. I just said the woman who works there gave it to me. As in, for free.”

Her nose wrinkled in disdain. “You have quite an attitude considering your position.”

No, you have a listening problem.

I gritted my teeth and stayed silent. I didn’t need more of their condemnation.

Being around the guys made it easier to relax and feel confident enough to express myself. They didn’t punish me for speaking up.

I’d gotten too comfortable.

At work, I walked a fine line between restraint and advocating for myself and my coworkers. With my extended family, I couldn’t stand up for myself at all. The people in front of me reminded me of that.

Zeke’s father’s voice pulled me out of that dark spiral. “What did this woman say to you when she gave you the book?”

“Something about spinning a wheel—my heart and soul’s needs and desires. A lot of stuff I didn’t understand. Some of it was in the ritual. I didn’t know it meant anything real.” My voice broke. “I didn’t mean to do anything wrong.”

“Lymsrana, wait,” Ardvaen said as Cyn’s mother—Lymsrana—pulled away and approached me, blocking my view of the council.

She reached down and cupped my cheek, tilting my head to look up at her.

Her amber eyes softened as she took in my face.

She was beautiful—skin pale and smooth, with the faintest blush on her cheekbones. Her thick black hair poured over her shoulders and down her back in gentle waves.

When she noticed the cameraman shift to capture her face, her expression hardened, and my brows drew together.

She seemed different from Zeke’s parents, Cornaith, and her husband. But right now, she resembled them with her stern expression.

I wondered what had changed.

“Stand down,” she said, her soft voice now commanding.

The cameraman retreated, panning his camera to the rest of the council.