Page 25 of Bonded To The Arena Master

The law has placed me inside Draxon's house.

It has not placed me beneath his will.

I walk beside him through the opening doors while the storm-court watches the first act of our bond become a declaration of war.

8

DRAXON

Silver dust still clings to the hem of Beatrix’s gown when she enters my study.

The particles catch the wall sigil’s crimson light with every step. She left most of the crushed lolean blossom on the Council floor, but enough traveled with her to mark the path from the chamber, through Ti’lith, and into House Obsidius.

The storm-court will already be discussing what she did.

By nightfall, every noble house on Galmoleth will have chosen whether to call it human insolence or weakness in the arena-master who permitted it.

Beatrix stops before my desk. She has refused the chair placed for petitioners. During the journey from the Council spire, she also refused my cloak, the covered carriage reserved for house dependents, and every attempt by the escorting guards to position themselves between her and the edge of the elevated walkways.

Defiance has always given her remarkable endurance.

I close the household ledger in front of me.

“You will occupy the eastern rooms on the upper residential level,” I say. “Two guards will remain outside them. You may use the private garden and the bathing chamber. The lower levels, exterior bridges, market entrances, and lightning-works are forbidden without my permission.”

Her green eyes rest on me with cold attention.

“Have you finished?”

“No.”

I list the remaining restrictions. She may summon servants through the wall chime. Meals will be brought to her unless her presence is required in the hall. Any medicine or personal property brought from the western district must be inspected. Correspondence will pass through the house steward.

Beatrix waits until I finish.

“You have given better quarters to prisoners awaiting execution,” she says.

“Prisoners remain beneath the arena.”

“Then perhaps they have worse windows.”

“The restrictions are for your protection.”

“From what?”

“The court. The spire staff. Any house seeking advantage through you. Your conduct during the ceremony ensured that every rival I possess now knows you can be used to provoke me.”

“I crushed a flower.”

“You challenged the Council before half the storm-court.”

“The Council had already decided I was property. Courtesy would not have improved my position.”

“It might have concealed how readily you become a political target.”

She glances around the study. Her attention passes over the bare walls, record shelves, and locked decree cabinet. It pauses near the mantle, but I speak before she can examine what rests there.

“You will follow the restrictions.”