Chapter 11 · Put the Failed Summon on Trial

They dragged Mark into the throne room at dawn.

No trial prep. No lawyer. Just iron cuffs that bit into his wrists and two guards who shoved him forward every time he slowed down. His knee screamed. He ignored it. The throne room was smaller than he'd expected—high vaulted ceiling, but the floor space was maybe the size of a university lecture hall.

Rows of chairs on both sides, filled with nobles in fur collars and priests in white. At the far end, three thrones. Only the middle one was occupied.

The crown prince. Maybe twenty-five, blond, bored expression. He looked like he'd rather be anywhere else.

"Present the summoning failure," someone announced.

Mark's escort yanked him to a stop in the center of the room. A circle of inlaid silver gleamed on the floor under his feet. He didn't like the way it hummed.

To his left, Ella stood behind a wooden lectern, hands gripping the edges. She looked pale. Nervous. She met his eyes for half a second, then looked down at her notes.

To his right, Corvin Drake leaned against a marble pillar, arms crossed. The royal mage.