Chapter 26 · A Crack in the Vow

The silver chains hit the floor with a sound that made Vivian's teeth ache. Lucas didn't fight them. He knelt there in the center of the council chamber, wrists bound, head down, and she wanted to scream at him for being so damn noble about it.

"This is wrong," she said. Her voice came out steady. She didn't know how. "You can't hold him for crimes committed under coercion. The law—"

"The law is clear." Ayla's smile didn't reach her eyes. "A seat holder who confesses to conspiracy is subject to trial. But as his blood-bound bride, you share his fate. Accept the seat, and he walks free. Refuse it, and you both face judgment."

Vivian looked at the high seat. The one her mother should have held. The one Cyrus had stolen with blood and lies. It sat there like a throne made of bones, and every instinct she had told her it was a trap.

Lucas lifted his head. His eyes met hers, and for the first time since she'd known him, she saw fear. Not for himself. For her.

"Don't," he said quietly.

She turned away from him. Looked at Ayla. "What happens after I take it?"