Page 167 of Maksym

Then she looked from throne to throne. Not pleading. Never pleading.

“You will have no choice when we are done but to find that my client, Prince Nikolay Kozlov, is not only innocent of murder, but he did the thing any one of you would have done had your own mate been taken from you.”

There it was. Not simply law. Mirror.

She forced every mated creature in that chamber, every creature who understood bond or chosen beloved or sacred attachment, to stand inside Nikolay’s place for one breath. To see what he had seen. A mate drugged, manipulated, bound, and threatened beneath ritual law twisted into a knife.

She had not excused my brother’s failures. She had made them irrelevant to the only question that mattered.

Grace held the Council’s collective gaze for one beat.

Then she returned to her seat.

Chapter 21

Grace

The prosecution called its first witness, and the truth spell settled over the chamber like weather no one had the courage to name.

It did not flash. It did not announce itself with theatrical light or divine thunder. It simply came down through the old stone and polished wood, through the black surface of the counsel tables, through the soles of my shoes, until the floor beneath me held a low vibration that made every bone in my body aware of consequence.

I had been in courtrooms where witnesses swore on Bibles they had no intention of honoring. I had watched men place one hand on Scripture and lie with such practiced sincerity that juries leaned forward to believe them. Human law depended, to a great extent, on shame, fear, and the faint possibility of perjury prosecution.

Supernatural law preferred efficiency.

The spell tasted faintly metallic at the back of my throat. Old parchment scented the air from the Magistrate’s scrolls and from the record clerks seated below the dais, their quills moving without hands. Every spoken word entered the chamber and remained there, weighed by magic older than most nations.

The prosecution began calling witnesses.

The first, a server from Obsidian. His plan was obviously to paint Nikolay in the worst light possible.

He had the pretty little witch recount the night of the first demonstration when Nikolay gave Maddie the public dressing down. There was no defense for this. I did not bother to try to redeem Nikolay with this witness.

The prosecution then attempted to call yet another member of staff from Obsidian. That is when I rose.

“Your Honor, if the prosecution intends to call an endless stream of Obsidian staff to recount instances of my client treating his mate poorly, the defense is prepared to stipulate to that fact and spare the court the repetition. Nikolay Kozlov was not a model mate during that period. He did, in fact, treat Madelyn Baucaum with considerably less kindness and respect than she deserved. At times, his behavior bordered on cruel as he struggled to come to terms with their bond. We will not contest that. Any further testimony establishing the same fact would be cumulative.”

The Magistrate looked toward the prosecution. “Does the defense’s stipulation accurately encompass the testimony you intended to elicit from these witnesses?”

“It does, Your Honor, but—”

“Then the court accepts the stipulation. Further testimony on the matter would be cumulative. Call your next witness.”

Next came Tristen Lynch—broad-shouldered, neatly dressed, and deeply unhappy to find himself under the Council’s attention. On direct examination, he said Maddie had come willingly. He had seen her speaking with Sloan Lynch. He had seen her laugh near the main room of the pack house. He had seen her accept a drink. He had seen no distress.

The prosecution led him carefully along that path, laying each stone as if building a bridge away from the altar.

When he finished, he looked almost pleased with himself.

Then I stood.

The witness’s eyes came to me, and the truth spell hummed a little harder beneath my feet. Or perhaps that was merely my imagination sharpening itself.

“You were present when Madelyn Baucaum arrived at Ironwood territory?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“You saw her greeted?”