Chapter 9 - THE KING WHO BROKE THE MATE BOND
The royal tribunal began at noon beneath a ceiling painted with seven silver moons.
I stood in the center of the chamber wearing a navy suit I'd purchased with money from my final paycheck.
No gown.
No crown.
No borrowed jewels.
If the council wanted to question a woman who used to prepare financial forecasts for a living, they were getting exactly that woman.
Dondre stood beside his throne.
His expression was unreadable.
Lady Celestine sat among the council members.
At the center of the semicircle stood Chancellor Varrick.
He was a thin man with silver hair and eyes the color of winter ice.
He looked at me as though I were a problem he intended to eliminate.
“Honey Evans,” he began.
“Yes?”
“You stand accused of concealing your bloodline.”
I frowned.
“I found out about it last week.”
A few spectators murmured.
Varrick ignored them.
“You have manifested power without royal registration.”
“Apparently.”
“Do you understand the seriousness of that offense?”
I looked at him.
“Do you understand how strange it is to accuse someone of failing to register a power she didn't know existed?”
Dondre lowered his head.
I suspected he was trying not to smile.
Varrick wasn't.
“Your insolence will not protect you.”
I folded my hands.
“I'm not asking insolence to protect me. I'm asking for a reasonable explanation.”
The hearing grew uglier.
Varrick introduced old decrees.
He claimed my bloodline threatened political stability.
He demanded that I surrender to royal supervision until the Council determined whether my abilities could be controlled.
I looked toward Dondre.
He rose.
“No.”
The chamber fell silent.
Varrick stiffened.
“Your Majesty, the ancient decree is explicit.”
“The decree violates the First Oath.”
“The First Oath was suspended.”
“Then it should never have remained suspended.”
A murmur moved through the room.
Varrick's eyes narrowed.
“Your judgment is compromised by the mate bond.”
Dondre's jaw tightened.
“My judgment is compromised by seeing injustice defended as tradition.”
Varrick raised one hand.
A guard approached carrying a silver chain.
I felt something cold moving inside it.
An enchantment.
A device designed to suppress my power.
I stepped backward.
Dondre moved between us.
“Put that away.”
Varrick smiled.
“Then reject the bond, Your Majesty.”
The room went absolutely still.
I stared at him.
“What?”
Varrick looked toward me.
“If the king's judgment is not influenced by this woman, he should be capable of severing the bond.”
My stomach dropped.
Dondre turned toward me.
His eyes were filled with pain.
“Honey.”
I swallowed.
“Don't.”
He stepped closer.
“I won't allow them to use you against the throne.”
“You don't have to protect the throne from me.”
“I know.”
“Then don't do what he wants.”
Dondre looked toward the council.
Then back at me.
“I'm sorry.”
My chest tightened.
“Dondre?”
He closed his eyes.
And spoke the ancient words.
“I release my claim upon this bond.”
Pain tore through my chest.
Not physical injury.
Something deeper.
A warmth I'd carried since the rainy evening suddenly vanished.
I gasped.
Dondre staggered.
The chamber erupted.
Varrick smiled.
And I understood, with devastating clarity, that the king had just made the worst decision of his life.
I didn't cry in front of them.
I refused.
I stood straight.
Looked at Dondre.
And said, “You should have asked me.”
His face crumpled.
“Honey—”
“No.”
I swallowed.
“You spent days telling me that my future belonged to me.”
“It does.”
“Then why did you make the decision that affected both of us without my consent?”
He had no answer.
I turned toward the council.
“You wanted to know whether I'm a threat?”
Varrick studied me.
I held his gaze.
“I'm a threat to anyone who thinks power gives them the right to decide another person's life.”
Then I walked out.
No one stopped me.
Outside, rain fell across the palace courtyard.
I stood beneath the gray sky.
The familiar scent of cedar and woodsmoke had disappeared.
The warmth in my chest was gone.
For the first time since meeting Dondre, I felt alone.
Then Nia approached.
She held out my cardboard box.
My notebooks.
My stapler.
My photograph of Evelyn and Thomas.
Everything I'd been carrying on the night I met the king.
“Ready?” she asked.
I looked back at the palace.
Then took the box.
May you like
“Yes.”
And we left.
