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My father sighed. It was a very put-upon sound.
Also, very fake. Not that it would be obvious to anyone who hadn’t grown up with the bastard and seen him play this hand dozens of times.
“I am not the ogre many here would have you believe.”
By “many,” he meant me.
“Clayton and I had a gentlemen’s agreement,” he continued, all false sorrow and regret. “He was not to consummate the marriage until Elizabeth was both at a legal age and a willing participant.”
I thrust to my feet so violently, my chair crashed backward onto the floor. “That’s a fucking lie. You’re a fucking liar!”
The speaker’s gavel banged. “Ms. Grace, please sit down immediately. You are not to respond to the witness or the court unless invited to do so.”
Anthony gave me a warning look. I sucked in my anger, righted my chair, and sat down. All the while glaring at my parent.
Said parent ignored me.
“Such an agreement does not alter the fact you forced an unwilling minor into a legally binding contract,” Anthony said. “Tell me, was this agreement ever in writing?”
“As I said, it was a gentlemen’s agreement. I did not consider it necessary.”
“Rather conveniently, then, we only have your word that this agreement existed.”
“My word,” my father said, leaning forward to emphasize the point, “is not in question here. And I would tread very carefully, Counselor, if you intend to continue that line of questioning.”
Anthony smiled pleasantly. “If you have spoken nothing but the truth, why then did you refuse to be truth read? It would have confirmed your version of events, just as it has your daughter’s.”
My father smiled, his expression cool, calm, and collected—everything the flash of red in his aura wasn’t. It made me wish I wasn’t the only one in the room who could see it, because it certainly painted a more accurate picture of the truth than anything coming out of his mouth.
“I allowed myself to be telepathically read once before on another matter before the court. The result was a leaking of personal information to the press and several bribery attempts—all of which are a matter of record.”
“What the truth seekers and auditors do is not telepathy. They merely assess the legitimacy of your story through the telling of it. They cannot go beyond those restrictions and access other information.”
“There is still a mental connection, and I will not risk it.”
“Because you are afraid of what might be revealed?”
“Because my word is my bond, and everyone in this room is well aware of that.”
“Everyone in this room no doubt believed the same of Clayton Marlowe, and yet he apparently broke your gentlemen’s agreement the minute the contract was signed. I would suggest that there never was, in fact, a contract, and you are merely pushing the blame onto a man who is no longer capable of defending himself.”
I pushed to my feet again. “Actually, that might not be true.”
“Ms. Grace, you were warned,” the speaker growled, her frustration evident. “Please sit down before I find you in contempt.”
“Is this court about uncovering the truth? The whole truth?” I countered. “Or are we merely going through the motions so my father can receive his slap on the wrist and everyone else can move on?”
Anthony, I noticed, was making no move to silence me this time, though his raised eyebrows did suggest he was wondering where I was going with this.
“Ms. Grace, the court will weigh the evidence and apply the appropriate sentence—”
“Which cannot be done without knowing the full story. If he refuses to have his story checked via a seeker and auditor, then we have no choice but to call on Clayton and ask him directly.”
“Via your familiar, no doubt,” my father said in a dry tone. “How very convenient that would be for you both.”
I flashed him a smile as cold as anything he’d ever given me. “I would not stain the integrity of the court in such a manner.”
Red spun through his aura again. He really didn’t like being spoken to in that tone—a tone that was simply an echo of his. “Then how do you propose—”
