Chapter 12 · The Crown's Real Target

The hearing room doors hadn't even closed behind them when Rowan slammed his fist into the stone wall.

Wantang grabbed his arm before he could do it again. "Stop. We don't have time for bleeding knuckles."

"Elias." Rowan's voice came out raw. "She got to Elias. He practically raised me, and now he's—"

"He's a victim." Wantang kept her grip tight. "Just like Cara. Sephra didn't flip him, she rewired him. And we've got maybe twelve hours before tomorrow's session to figure out how."

Rowan finally looked at her. His eyes were dark, angry, but something else lived under that. Fear. Real fear.

Good. She could work with fear. Fear meant he understood the stakes.

"Let's move." She pulled him toward the side corridor. The main halls would be full of tribunal staff and royal watchers. They needed somewhere private. Somewhere Sephra's people wouldn't walk in on them piecing together a counter.

Rowan led her down two flights of stairs into what looked like old record storage. Dust thick enough to track. Shelves sagging under the weight of ledgers nobody had touched in years. A single barred window let in moonlight and cold air.

He lit a lamp.