Page 76 of Bonded To The Arena Master

"The slate contains it. Add nothing."

No plea for her to follow. No request that she forgive the cost. Beatrix will understand the distinction between challenging my punishment and challenging the law that makes our devotion criminal.

She will choose what she does with that knowledge.

Grolm secures the slate beneath his armor.

"House Obsidius stands with you," he says.

"House Obsidius has been seized."

"Its holdings have."

The correction belongs to the lessons he learned while warning me about Beatrix's influence. A house is more than command. Loyalty can survive the authority that once organized it.

"Go," I say.

Grolm bows again and leaves.

The Council guards enter when the storm bell begins. One carries restraint chains. I look at them until he returns the chains to his belt.

"The lower gate," the ranking guard says.

"The Grand Arena."

"Your sentence names the gate."

"My challenge will be entered before we reach the lower bridge. Once recorded, your duty changes."

He studies me, uncertain whether I speak truth and unwilling to risk violating an ancient right in front of five witnesses.

"We walk to the bridge," he decides.

"We walk."

I leave the stripped study with the chipped cup at my side.

No title precedes me. No executioner's axe rests across my back. Council guards form around me as if I am already defeated.

They misunderstand the direction of my steps.

I am not walking toward exile.

I am walking toward the arena as a combatant, and the law itself will face me there.

23

BEATRIX

Grolm arrives carrying a piece of captured lightning.

Silver script moves beneath the surface of the obsidian slate in his hands. A broken version of the House Obsidius sigil glows at one corner, crossed by the red mark of the Council archive.

He enters the apothecary alone.

Two Crown guards remain outside the solarium doors. They permitted me one morning to collect medicines and personal tools before the room is sealed. Every jar I touch has been entered on an inventory scroll. Every packet I place in my satchel requires a guard's approval.

The apothecary still looks alive.