Page 223 of Maksym

“I am owed due process,” he snapped. “I am a member of the Elder Council. This chamber has no authority to hand me to a private court for execution on the basis of edited footage and the accusations of a woman compromised by sire bond, mate bond, and obvious vengeance.”

His eyes cut to me.

“Tell them, Gracelyn. Tell them how eagerly you cling to your new master’s hand.”

The old words looked for old wounds. They found scars instead. Scars had feeling. They did not bleed on command. Before I could answer, Kazimir spoke from the dais.

“Enough.”

One word. The entire chamber obeyed before thought entered the matter.

Lucian’s mouth closed, though hatred still twisted it. I had seen compulsion before. This was not that, or not merely that. It was hierarchy older than argument. The King of Kings did not need to shout because history had already done the work of making his quiet intolerable.

The Magistrate looked toward the guards.

“Are the accused secured?”

One guard near Lucian answered. “They are. Supernatural restraints are active. No compulsion. No telekinetic reach. No shadow passage. No ward breach.”

Another guard near Alastair Crowe nodded. “Same for Alastair Crowe.”

Alastair flinched when his name was spoken, as if the syllables themselves had become evidence

“Honored Magistrate,” Lucian said through his teeth, “you cannot mean to entertain this.”

The Magistrate turned his gaze on him.

“I told you to be silent.”

Lucian’s face darkened. He said nothing.

The Magistrate looked to me. “Counsel, your petition has been heard.”

I inclined my head once. “Thank you, Honored Magistrate.”

He turned to the Council.

“The matter before us is not guilt adjudication under Kozlov law. That court will determine its own proceedings. The matter before us is remand. Whether, upon the evidence presented and the jurisdictional claim established, Lucian Devereaux and Alastair Crowe shall be delivered to the Kozlov Court for adjudication of blood slavery and related offenses.”

He lifted the staff.

“A simple majority will suffice.”

Lucian’s eyes widened again. There it was. Not rage. Calculation failing.

He had expected procedure to save him. Procedure, properly used, was a sacred thing. Procedure abused, was only a hallway where the guilty hoped victims would collapse before reaching the door.

Not today.

The Magistrate did not call each name with the ceremony he had given Nikolay’s verdict. Perhaps he did not need to. Perhaps the earlier vote had exhausted the room’s appetite for theatrical suspense. Perhaps some matters did not deserve suspense.

“All in favor of remanding Lucian Devereaux and Alastair Crowe to the Kozlov Court, signify.”

For one heartbeat, no one moved.

Then Kazimir’s voice came first.

“Aye.”